*Salvatore*
I scrubbed my sweaty palms down my pants and took a deep breath. Lorenz had called me and said we needed to meet. Nothing good ever came of meeting with the boss. I’d learned that the fucking hard way. Worse, he had a hardline no-weapons policy for these meets.
Now I sat in my crappy car, staring at a warehouse I could barely see because of the broken streetlight in front of the door.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I knew about Stefan’s little hit, and I knew about the Valentino retaliation. There was no getting around the fact that this cold war was starting to become quite a bit hotter than I preferred. If I had my druthers, I’d have pulled up stakes and hit the road by now. That was what anybody smart should have been doing.
