Chapter 18 Protection
- The safe house smelled like old paper and wood polish. Dust floated through the rays of sunlight cutting in from the blinds. Everything was too still.
- Santino locked the door behind him as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. His hand was still shaking when he set the glass down.
- He had seen the photo. His father. Alive. Standing outside a café in Buenos Aires.