THE LITTLE GIRL ASKED TO SIT WITH A STRANGER—BUT HER MOTHER NEVER EXPECTED THE MAFIA BOSS TO RECOGNIZE HER FACE

and a half behind her, on the opposite side of the street, Marcus Riley lowered a small pair of binoculars and lifted a phone with no contacts saved.

“It’s me,” he said. “Target is still in Boston. The kid too.”

He paused.

“Boss Callaway, how do you want me to handle this?”

That evening, three men sat around the long oak table in Damen’s library.

Marcus continue reading …