Top Dog

Tommaso

I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and the now-old injury on my ribs tugged. Not painfully. Just enough that I could never really forget how close I’d come to meeting the reaper and seeing what my old man thought of the other side. According to Paige, Cora sent a letter a few months ago. She’d quit the force, just like she’d promised, and taken up some private investigation and bodyguard work. When she’d told me that, I’d made a mental note to stay out of Upstate New York as much as I could. Eight months after being stabbed by the woman with a mirror shard, I still ached. I didn’t exactly need to see what the hell she could do when she made it her job.

“So we’ve got two shipments of weapons coming in tonight, and a third shipment of luxury cars going out,” Stan said.

I nodded. “And the cars are going?”

Stan tapped the tablet Lyle had finally convinced him to use at least while walking the warehouse floor instead of the reams of paperwork my right hand pref