CHAPTER 27Christy uttered her brother’s name involuntarily, issuing from her lips in a surprised sotto voce whisper in stark contrast to Morelli’s embellished rasping saw blade grate of, “f**k, O’Donnell. How the bloody hell did you get in?”
The dark coloured cravat Barry wore loosely about his throat failed to conceal the surgical collar he was still wearing. Christy wondered at the reason for it.
Morelli’s lethally dark eyes narrowed, predacious, hooded as if he were about to spring on the intruder. The sawn down twin barrels of the shotgun moved ominously into Barry’s field of vision affirming how stupid he had been to agree to Lascar’s crazy plan. Just because Lascar was tooled up didn’t mean he could move mountains for Christ’s sake. Nonetheless Barry inched a step forward hesitantl
