Fury and pride ripped through Soloman as he stalked out of the mess that had once been Merchant's beautifully furnished lobby entrance. Now, instead of dealing with this shit, as the boss should, he would have to go find his own personal Houdini woman and explain to her exactly what he meant by stay in the fucking bedroom. Goddamn was she ever a handful. And she'd stolen another fucking vehicle.

He threw his cigarillo into the gutter and flung open the door to Roman's '69 ...