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I cannot tell you just how excited I am for the next book, Prince of Sin, to be released. So excited, that I’m actually going to include the first chapter right here (before it’s even released!)
So, keep reading!
Prince of Sin
Chapter One
Teddy Maldonado
"God, this is so boring," I exclaim as I wait in the car next to Marco. I pump up the volume to R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion" and hum along.
"How much longer do you think, Marco?" I ask, stretching my hands over my head dramatically.
"I told you already, my name's not Marco," Marco replies.
I stare out at the desolate street. It's 2 a.m. in Southie (or South Boston if you're from out of town) and we are currently parked next to an Irish Catholic church.
"I'm choosing my confessions..." the song continues.
There aren't any lights on as far as my eye can see. The group that is currently ruining my evening cut power to the block to make sure the city security cameras don't make us easy targets.
Not that we don't already have enough people on our payroll in the police department. But, we try not to make being a rat an even shittier job than it already is.
"You have to be Marco," I say to Marco. "Marco is the person who comes with me on my clean-up jobs," I reply to him.
"Marco was busy. I'm filling in," Marco says.
"No, you don't understand," I reply, tapping the dashboard of the Lincoln Navigator we are currently sitting in. The rich leather thuds against my callused fingers, the sound reverberating through the car.
"Marco is my partner on jobs. I don't give a fuck what you think your name is. For tonight, you're Marco."
"Whatever you say, boss," Marco replies.
I bark out a laugh. "I'm just fucking with you. I know your name is Tony. Tony and Teddy waiting around for text messages."
"...losing my religion..."
I can tell that Tony is growing uncomfortable, which only makes me want to mess with him more. Messing with people is in my nature, and it is one hell of a way to pass the time.
"So, Marco, I mean Tony," I correct myself with a wink. "Tell me, how did you become a soldier for the Maldonado Family?"
"I grew up in Back Bay," he says, referring to the North Side of Boston. "I've been doing this since I was a kid."
"And you're only a Marco-lookalike after all these years?" I goad.
His jaw twitches, and I can tell that I hit a nerve. "Sorry, sorry," I laugh, holding up my hands. "That was a dick move of me to say."
