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New York's Lombardo's Steak House is famous for three reasons--the menu, the clientele, and now, the gruesome murder of an infamous mob lawyer. Effortlessly, the assassin slips through the police's fingers, and his absence sparks a blaze of accusations about who ordered the hit.
Seated at a nearby table, reporter Nick Daniels is conducting a once-in-a-lifetime interview with a legendary baseball bad-boy. In the chaos, he accidentally captures a key piece of evidence that lands him in the middle of an all-out war between Italian and Russian mafia forces. NYPD captains, district attorneys, mayoral candidates, media kingpins, and one shockingly beautiful magazine editor are all pushing their own agendas--on both sides of the law.
And the dead
Back off--or die--is the clear message Nick receives as he investigates for a story of his own. Heedless, and perhaps in love with his beautiful editor, Nick endures humiliation, threats, violence, and worse in a thriller that overturns every expectation and finishes with the kind of flourish only James Patterson knows.
was lying, telling the truth, whatever. “He obviously told you I went to see him today, though, right?” I asked. “Yes,” she answered. “David and I are a couple, Nick. Couples tell each other things.” “Don’t remind me,” I said. She knew exactly what I meant by that. It was ostensibly the reason we broke up. Long, painful story made short, I had done an important interview with Bill Gates in which he went on record for the first time about his planned retirement from Microsoft. That night I
maybe they were just too numb to be angry. I couldn’t tell when Courtney and I approached them to offer our condolences. Given the incessant media coverage, along with the usual gossip mill churning out whatever tidbits the press didn’t, my connection to Derrick Phalen was pretty well established. What wasn’t known was exactly why I was connected to him. That’s the question I thought I was about to be asked when Derrick’s sister, Monica, caught up to Courtney and me a few minutes later. She
to me, Zambratta shrugged. “It’s tough to say. But you can never be too sure with these things, no?” “Is that why?” I asked D’zorio. “Is that why what?” he asked back. There was no point in playing dumb anymore. Regardless of what was on that flash drive and who else might have seen it, I knew more than enough on my own. “Is that why you framed Eddie Pinero instead of killing him outright? Less chance of retaliation? Because you can never be too sure?” “No, that’s not it,” D’zorio said with a
him.” “Yeah, he’s somebody important,” I assured Marie. “In fact, you might be looking at the next mayor of this city.” David introduced himself and was as pleasant as a good politician could be with her. Still, I could tell he wanted to speak to me privately. Marie picked up on it, too. She left us alone. David removed his jacket, placing it on the chair in the corner. Then he turned to me with what he knew was some very good news. “Bruno Torenzi is dead,” he announced. “I wanted to tell you
about that, Nick. Just remember, I didn’t get to be editor in chief for nothing.” We were about to kiss again when we both realized that someone was suddenly standing next to us. Speak of the devil—it was none other than Brenda. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, coming very close to blushing. I didn’t know she had it in her. “I saw you both here. I wanted to give Nick something.” She handed me a slender rectangular box—gift wrapped, with a red bow on top. “What’s this?” I asked, genuinely