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“I live in Canarsie. I know they’re there, near the projects, across the water there.” Moss pointed to the opposite bank of Spring Creek. “They still picking the Italians’ scraps?” Vanya saw Nance was paying attention. He smiled at her. “These guys not interested in scraps anymore,” he said. “The people who did this are looking to take over.” |
"Stella has crafted a true page-turner … Agnes is a flawed heroine, a refreshing change from too many lesser novels, and Stella remains a master of creating complex and believable characters. Stella has quickly become one of crime fiction's leading lights, and this latest effort will burnish that well-deserved reputation. A great book." —*Library Journal*
Stella has been a “rising star” for some time now, and if his sixth thriller doesn’t place him in the firmament, it does confirm his rock-solid ability to deliver the goods...this revenge-driven tale will satisfy fans of strong women and contemporary crime—as you’ll guess from the title, the bad guys aren’t your father’s Mafia.—Booklist
A murder this dirty, revenge can’t be sweet ...an unnerving excursion into the Russian mafia’s urban turf.
Her name is Rachel. Married, divorced. Two kids, endless expenses, like those private school tuition bills. In New York City. It’s not been easy, but Rachel’s been making ends meet, barely, between her pimp and the escort service. And recently a Russki with big bucks and bad ideas.
Some crimes cry for vengeance, like the one that washes Rachel Wilson up on a beach, her head bald, her body mutilated. It’s a cry that Agnes Lynn, a hooker gone straight and Rachel’s long-time friend, can’t ignore. Steely and resourceful, with a determination impervious to fear, Agnes aims to settle scores with pimps and porn kings—and unwittingly, blindly, sets herself in the path of the formidable Russian mob boss Viktor Timkin.
Stalked by the Mafiya, pursued by the police—not least, a maverick Russian-born detective whose broken English hides an intelligence as cold as any among his countrymen on the other side of the law—Agnes can only run. Until she gets herself red leather boots, lipstick, a boning knife, and a plan.
What she doesn’t plan on, though, are crooked cops, a Saudi weapons dealer, gangland assassins, a turf war, and redfella deviants. What she doesn’t plan on could get her killed.