Time stopped as I stared at the woman I had mourned for twenty years.
My mother stood in the rain, her hair streaked with silver but her eyes unmistakably the same warm brown I remembered. The federal agents flanking her kept their weapons trained on Raphael's men, creating a deadly triangle of crossfire.
"Mama?" The word escaped my lips like a prayer.
"Yes, bambina," she said softly, never taking her gun off Raphael. "It is really me this time."
Raphael's confident smile had vanished. His men looked nervous, caught between two armed forces with nowhere to retreat.
"Maria Romano," he said, trying to regain his composure. "I should have known the federal rats would drag you out of hiding eventually."
"You should have known many things, nephew," my mother replied coldly. "Like the fact
