A mother and daughter discover some things can be more deadly than the Mafia…
Rosanna Sweeney defies her father’s deathbed order that she never go
to Italy. She and her teenage daughter journey across Italy to the
Calabrian town of her father’s birth. In their quest, they find
romance, learn about one another, and uncover a past that links them
to secret societies far worse than the Mafia. Can they survive their
"We've got problems, Vito," he said watching the girl mount her front
porch steps and bend to pick up the daily paper. In spite of the baggy
sweatshirt he could tell there were curves beneath. His eyes lingered
on the seat of her jeans.
The voice crackled over the line. "Problems? You don't know what the
word is, asshole."
"I'm watching 42 Hilldale like you said. A girl just walked up. Not a
woman. A fucking girl."
"They said the woman's in good shape for her age."
"Listen to me, dickhead. This is a high school kid. That ain't no
woman's ass I'm watching."
The girl retrieved the mail and placed it along with the paper on the
steps. She walked back down into the front yard where she paced off a
distance in front of a tall oak. She faced away from the tree, her
back to D'Atri, her head tucked down. Her body went rigid with
concentration. She whirled and threw something that glinted in the
waning sun. D'Atri ducked beneath the dash. He heard the thud and
picked his head up. There was a hatchet embedded in the oak. The girl
worked the head loose and took up the same stance as D'Atri studied
her with a combination of fascination and puzzlement.
He spoke into the phone. "She's throwing tomahawks. I don't fuckin'