Sal Raniero's Little Black
Kailee Reese SamuelsHe’s the eighteen-year-old kid of the Boston mafia. She’s the middle-aged, rhinestone-wearing spitfire from Texas. One weekend. A whole lot of sparks. new message from Hot Mama: Meet me at Clint Ray’s Bar & Grill on Friday at 7 PM. Don’t worry about clothes for the weekend. You won’t need them. See you then, Sugar. My hands trembled as I remembered the message for the thousandth time. I wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at my reflection. I wasn’t sure about any of this, but I needed to know who these people were and what made them tick. If that meant kicking back a few beers at a bar and knocking boots with an older woman, I was okay with that. I was young, and they were paying. I was going to have a helluva good time. In the little black book, I wrote her name down. Trudy Diaz. Deacon Cruz’s mother. Deacon was the godson of Anna Ford. And my best friend. Sh!t was about to get interesting.