Springing up onto his horse, he gathered the reins and spurred the great beast into the night, his band of bastards falling into formation upon his heels, prepared to go to the death for him.
As they thundered out of the village, he put the skull of his father in his leather battle shirt, right over his heart.
Vengeance would be his own. Even if it killed him.
One
PRESENT DAY AQUEDUCT RACETRACK, QUEENS, NEW YORK
«I want to blow you.»
Dr. Manny Manello swiveled his head to the right and looked at the woman who’d spoken to him. It was hardly the first time he’d heard that combination of words, and the mouth they’d come out of certainly had enough silicone in it to offer a good cushion. But it was still a surprise.
Candace Hanson smiled at him and adjusted her Jackie O. hat with a manicured hand. Apparently, she’d decided that the combination of ladylike and raunchy was enticing — and maybe it was to some guys.
Hell, at another time in his life, he probably would have taken her up on it, under the why-the-hell-not theory. Now? File that under not-so-much.
Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, she leaned forward, flashing him a set of breasts that didn’t so much defy gravity as flip it off, insult its mother, and piss on its shoes. «I know where we could go.»
He bet she did. «Race is about to start.»
She pouted. Or maybe that was just the way her post-injection lips poofed out. God, a decade ago she’d probably been fresh faced; now the years were adding a patina of desperation to her — along with the normal wrinkle-linked aging process that she clearly fought like a boxer.