Wild Cards V
“Harper ROSEMARY STARED OUT INTO the spring rain. Gray and dirty, outside it looked more like winter. Chris Mazzucchelli droned on in the background. Christ, how had she ever gotten involved with a jerk like him? Living underground with him had shown her the difference between dealing with Chris on an occasional basis and being together nearly twenty-four hours a day. He was no longer a romantic rebel in her eyes; he was a vicious punk. The problem was he was her vicious punk.
She returned her a...ttention to the crisis at hand, but her eyes were immediately caught by the sight of Chris’s rattail bouncing up and down on his back as he paced the dingy little Alphabet City hotel room they were using as a safe house.
“We lost eight capos to this double cross. Fiore, Baldacci, Schiaparelli, Hancock, and my brother. Dead. Vince Schiaparelli looked like he had been turned inside out. Fiore’s skin turned into stone and he choked to death. Hancock and Baldacci weren’t there anymore—just puddles with bones sticking out.MoreLess
She returned her a...ttention to the crisis at hand, but her eyes were immediately caught by the sight of Chris’s rattail bouncing up and down on his back as he paced the dingy little Alphabet City hotel room they were using as a safe house.
“We lost eight capos to this double cross. Fiore, Baldacci, Schiaparelli, Hancock, and my brother. Dead. Vince Schiaparelli looked like he had been turned inside out. Fiore’s skin turned into stone and he choked to death. Hancock and Baldacci weren’t there anymore—just puddles with bones sticking out.MoreLess
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