Proserpina; Decisions

The monk sat, crushing the can of beer, one of his weaknesses, in his thin hand. His hands were like claws but powerful in strength.

Now he threw the destroyed can into the distance, not being aware of the loud sound it created.

He was livid. But unlike Dusak, sex and then the killing, did not take the edge off his fury. He would use it, instead, to come up with another plan. But this time, he was a worried man.

Lucien Delano had already smashed some of his hideouts within minutes of discovering how he had been playing the man’s daughter; had effectively shut down, using either force or coercion, some of the lucrative deals he had begun to cut with the drug lords around California and the other states. Of course, the Mafia Don had had the able support of the Cosa Nostra in this regard, particularly because he had been championed by the cunning barrister, Tristan Lord.

The Monk scowled darkly and began to mumble, fiddling with his beads. To add to his miseries, the mad woman, the Assas