Drago
Arturo DeVille’s house is situated in an upscale neighborhood. Close enough to everything important, but well away from all the craziness of a Saturday night. Or at least as much as living in New York allows. I stop my bike in front of the iron gate and push up my shield visor. Staring directly into the camera, I press the call button. A few moments later, the gate slides to the side.
I park my bike and head toward the front door where Sienna’s brother is standing, glaring at me.
“What the f**k are you doing here?” he asks through his teeth.
“Are we going to discuss business on your porch?”
Arturo sizes me up, then turns and heads inside. I follow him across the spacious living room. Despite its size, the room feels unexpectedly cozy, like home. There’s a big bookshelf, a co
