Making Amends

The Monk was standing at his desk, silent and watchful. He observed the warm landscape spread out before him in silence; a habit he had inculcated when he had been a monk and meditating in the mountains. But his eyes were not taking in the beauty of the world outside; on the contrary, he was seething. His nephew, the fool that the boy was turning out to be, had been fixated with Ria Delano to such a degree, he had sent one of their men to the Delano lair, the newest club, and the equally stupid fellow had gotten his man killed. An illegal migrant, whose family was now on the streets. Dusak had had the women and the children brought to the brothels he ran. Now they would soon be sold, thought the monk distastefully.

He had no interest in what his nephew did in his spare time, but he DID have an opinion when the young man let his lust overrun business. And that was what was happening. He was obsessed with that girl of Delano's.

The Monk shook his head and turned to look at Kasparov, his