Don Carianno swiped a cloth around the sharp edge of his dagger, admiring the finely sculptured metal. The blood on it was an evident indication of what he just did. Slitting a throat. A measly life that shouldn't have stayed breathing as long as it did. The geezer owed him a fortune, he'd been lenient enough. Not anymore.

The door opened and Sergio walked in, agitated and furious. He had a gun in his hand and his eyes were hooded with the crazy urge to kill.

"Speak." Don Carianno said, returning the dagger to its small sheath. He was disturbed but had a knack for concealing his emotions, no matter...