The air in the kitchen was thick with the smell of scorched tomato sauce and the sharp, electric scent of my own failing patience. It was a Tuesday in late November, the kind of New England evening…
CHAPTER I The sound wasn't what you'd expect. It wasn't a scream or a loud crash. It was the dry, hollow thud of a man who had survived a war hitting the Arizona dirt because a bo…
CHAPTER I The air in the Sterling Plaza ballroom tasted like expensive gin and indifference. I had spent thirty dollars on a tie that still felt like a noose, standing by the buffet line not …
