Horribly abused by his mother, Van eventually goes in search of his father. When he finds him, his life is radically changed. His father works for the FBI, and has contacts to a covert group, run by the Old Man, that goes after the worst of the worst criminals. Van is recruited to join both -- and does. Van handles every job he's sent on with cold efficiency, letting nothing stand in his way of gaining the information he seeks and stopping his foes. Eventually, he's offered a team of his own within the Old Man's organization. He accepts, with one caveat -- none of them can be female. Because of his mother, the only woman he has ever trusted is his handler, Makie. His attitude takes a hit when he meets Ginna, a cop, while on a job for the Old Man. When it's over, much to the shock of everyone involved, he requests that she be added to his team if she's willing -- which she is, as long as the organization can promise to keep her young son safe while she's on assignments. Ginna fits in well with the team, and though she is appalled at some of the tactics Van uses to gain information, she finds herself attracted to him. Can she break through the walls he's erected around his emotions? If so, then what? Only time will tell.

A Shattered Life

“Let’s sit down and figure it out.”


“That would mean you,” Frankie said with a grin. “The rest of us already are sitting.”


Vance raised his middle finger and pulled the last remaining chair up to the table.


“New York, obviously,” Stuart said for openers.


“But via Sicily for Frankie and me, I think.” Vance thumbed through his folder. “We’ll use our man there. That way, if he’s the mole he’ll know what’s going on and inform Gambini.”


Stuart read the information on the man and nodded. “He’s high enough placed it wouldn’t be strange for him to be sending two of his soldati to take the place of Gambini’s. The ones the Feds recently got their hands on.”


“Van, get in touch with Makie and have her set us up with the IDs we’ll need, because we have to be Italian by birth to be soldati.”


“You aren’t?” Troy looked at Frankie in surprise.


“Yeah I am, but American Italian, third generation, Francesco Portelli by birth, Frank Porter by choice.”


Chapter 85