COLD METAL NIGHT CHAPTER 1Sunday, December 4 2:37 a.m. Downtown Omaha, Nebraska
NICK MORRELLI STUFFED HIS HANDS deep inside his pockets.
Damn! It had gotten cold.
And he’d forgotten his gloves. He could see his breath. Air so cold it stung his eyes and hurt to breathe.
Snow crunched beneath his shoes. Italian leather. Salvatore Ferragamo slip-ons. Five hundred and ten dollars. The stupidest purchase he’d ever let his sister, Christine talk him into. They made him look like a mob boss, or worse – a politician – instead of a security expert.
He was at a private party when he got Pete’s call. Figured he could easily walk the two blocks from the Flat Iron to the Rockwood Building. But it had been snowing steadily for the last ten hours. Now he treaded carefully over the pile of i
