Chapter 36A second before Chris Cotton would find the strength to squeeze the trigger and graft his rage into Destinova, three rapid shots echoed and the former conquistador briefly flinched, hit from the left side. Mike Angelo was standing fifteen yards from him, holding his Colt in his hand and preparing to keep on delivering justice. What the detective couldn’t anticipate was the reaction of the man in white, or the near complete absence of it. Destinova turned his head toward his attacker and looked at him with the rebuke of a parent scolding their child, after which Mike noticed with disbelief that there were no bloodstains on Destinova’s shirt, nor did the man behave as people usually do when they receive three .45 caliber bullets in the torso. Before he managed to fire again, Mike s
