Chapter NineForester was in the back room of the club when D'Angelo showed up and he wasn't happy. He sat behind his desk leaning forward on his elbows, his fingers entwined in front of him, his chin resting on his outstretched thumbs pointing toward him. D'Angelo stood uncomfortably in front of him. Despite his displeasure, Forester's voice was calm and measured. “So what happened, Angie?”
“He stepped in front of her just as I squeezed off the round,” he explained, looking first down and then off to the side to avoid Forester's steely gaze. “I couldn't get another shot.”
“Look at me,” the old man said with more than a hint of derision.
D'Angelo redirected his eyes to meet Forester's. “It coulda happened to anybody. I won't miss the next time.”
“I don't know if there's gonna be a next
