“Frustration was an animal that moved just under his skin, with painful scales and vicious claws. Ann Lesage wasn’t giving up. She was in Hong Kong, wheeling, dealing, trying. The stubborn, kiss-my-ass bitch refused to understand that she was up against a brick wall and could go no farther. She had been on the hunt for Chow. Vincent knew that she hadn’t found him. He’d gotten a call from the whimpering, whining fool whom Chow had put in the office there. Perhaps she had found Ling. Vincent was w...aiting for further word to ascertain if that had happened. A call to the New York district attorney’s office—he had posed as a reporter—had informed him that Patrick Morhardt was temporarily off his legal hook. He would be tucked away, drying out, for another five and a half weeks or so, thanks to Felicia. Vincent intended to wrap this up before Patrick got out of the clinic and could cause problems. From all reports, Felicia would not survive much longer. But no matter. If she didn’t go quietly, he would find a way to help her along.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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