Vendetta - (EPUB全文下载)

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书籍内容：

CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
PART I
CHAPTER ONE: The Honeypot
CHAPTER TWO: The Boy with Haunting Eyes
CHAPTER THREE: The Gossip Merchant
CHAPTER FOUR: The Letter
CHAPTER FIVE: The Priestly Brothers
CHAPTER SIX: The Drowned Man
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Crimson Falcons
CHAPTER EIGHT: The Switchblade
CHAPTER NINE: The Break-In
CHAPTER TEN: The Artist
CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Name
PART II
CHAPTER TWELVE: The Bee
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Party
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Dark Knight
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Warning
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: The Misunderstanding
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Memory
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The Angel-maker
CHAPTER NINETEEN: The Ugly Truth
CHAPTER TWENTY: The Movie
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Gun
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Falcone Calling
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: The Underboss
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: The Intruders
PART III
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: The Valentine Vendetta
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: The Boss
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: The Video
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: The Escape
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: The Warehouse
CHAPTER THIRTY: The Choice
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: The Hospital
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
FOR MY DAD
“Of all forms of caution, caution in love is perhaps the most fatal to true happiness.”
BERTRAND RUSSELL, The Conquest of Happiness
I didn’t see it at first, sitting between the cash register and a stack of order pads. It might have been there for hours — or longer — just waiting, while I spent another day of my summer dying of boredom inside Gracewell’s Diner.
There were just two of us left to lock up tonight. I was hovering beside the register, drumming my fingernails on the countertop, while Millie, my best friend and partner-in-waitressing, glided around the diner and sang into the push broom like it was a microphone. Everyone else had left, and my uncle Jack — manager not-so-extraordinaire — had stayed home with a hangover.
The tables stood resolutely in rows, flanked by straight-backed, burgundy chairs and the occasional rubber plant. The door was locked, the lights were dimmed, and the window booths were clean.
I was trying not to listen to Millie destroy Adele when I noticed it: the jar of honey. I picked it up and studied it.
“I think I’m getting better,” Millie called mid-song-murder from across the diner. The only thing she got right was the faint British accent, but that’s only because she was British. “I can hit that high note now!”
“Big improvement, Mil,” I lied without looking up.
The jar was small and rounded. Inside, honey dotted with crystals of gold swayed lazily as I ............

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