Chapter 12

But what these poor innocent bystanders didn’t know was that with Piff Montana in town it was anythingbut a beautiful day in the neighborhood, because he was determined to find someone—and kill him.

* * * *

What the hell was he thinking?

This thought whirled crazily through Ric’s mind as he walked along the cracked sidewalk that showed wear and tear from the millions of feet that pounded it daily. He reached up, raked his fingers through his blond hair, grimaced as he tried to figure out what he was thinking when he invited Reny Stark, the man who had tried to kill him, into his life to stay.

He wasn’t only a killer—hell, he was an assassin.

He was misplaced. He could be described as big, obnoxious, and well, different. Every time Ric looked at Reny he was reminded of just how different he was. He had the dirt of the ghetto on him, he bumbled, he swept through his apartment like a bull in a china shop. He simply didn’t seem to be able to function in the normal world.