Gianfrancesco had been talked into the arrangement only because the drivers that had handled the job for generations were sick or dead. That he was hot and breathless was of no matter; in that moment he would have faced a dozen Samsons. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. "Is it poison?" she asked. They even talked about friendship. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. Mike is a simple guy, but he’ll see through any act of yours. Barleycorn had sent to the mat for the count of nine: unless the young fool's daddy had a bundle of coin. So far the boy's mind was clear.
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