Chapter One By dying now, his father had won again. That old bastard. Dominic Corisi slammed the door of his black Bugatti Veyron and stepped onto the sun baked Boston sidewalk without giving the million dollar vehicle a backwards glance. The joy of owning it was dead along with his desire to answer the incessant ring of the cell phone he’d ignored since yesterday. Rather than turning it off, he’d muffled the noise by burying the device deep within a coat pocket; maintaining the connection to his life like a distant beacon. Despite the oppressive heat, he paused at the bottom stair of his old brownstone. There was nothing spectacular about it, outside of its location near the upbeat Newbury Street. If he remembered correctly, its rooms were small and the main staircase had a creak that he never did get around to fixing. It was nothing like the sprawling mansions he now owned in various countries around the world. But it was the closest thing he had to a home. His phone rang with a tone he couldn’t ignore. Jake. His second in command would simply call again, killing whatever chance Dominic had of finding a moment of peace inside those brick walls. “Corisi,” he barked into the phone. “Dominic, glad I caught you,” Jake Walton said smoothly, as if he hadn't unsuccessfully rung twenty times in the last