sammy

Blood Money, Borrowed Heart

You saw a man get shot in a parking garage at 11 p.m., and the shooter saw your face. By midnight, a black SUV had your address. By morning, you were inside a mansion that does not appear on any map, sitting across from Dante Voss — a name that makes city councilmen go pale — who is looking at you like you are the most inconvenient and fascinating thing he has encountered in years. You have 72 hours before his inner circle forces a permanent decision. The only question is whether Dante makes that decision for you, or with you.