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“What exactly, do you do for Patten Securities, Mrs. James?”
“Look me up online. My maiden name was Calliope Bradford-Clarke. I’m an expert in EMF technology.”
Lucky, where are you?Why isn’t the back door flying open with him busting heads?
He’s not here and you need to get a grip.
While Tony Soprano thumbs his cell phone, a wide grin spreads across his face. Then, he sits back on his heels looking pretty pleased with himself as he calls out to the driver. “Let’s take her home. We need to axe her some questions.”
Saved. At least for the time being.
Exhausted, my eyelids droop, then close. When I wake, I’m walked into an ancient, rundown, garden apartment.
