Lucky could barely summon the strength to speak. The room was spinning. She felt as if she were trapped in the middle of a deadly nightmare. A feeling of helplessness overcame her. Wake up! her inner voice screamed in her head. Wake the fuck up and get it together.

"Is it Max?" Lennie continued, thinking that if anyone had harmed his daughter, he would kill them. "Has something happened to Max?"

Slowly Lucky shook her head. "It's ... Gino," she managed.

"What, exactly?" Lennie asked, expecting her to tell him that Gino had experienced a heart attack or a stroke. He'd never seen his strong, beautiful wife in such a state.

"Gino's been shot," she muttered, hardly believing her own words. "He was shot in the back of the head, execution-style."

"What?"

"I know," she gasped. "It seems impossible."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Who would do this, Lennie?" she implored, shaking her head in disbelief. "Who would do such a thing? The days of Gino having enemies are long past. He was an old man living out his final days in peace. WHO WOULD DO THIS?"

Lennie gave a helpless shrug. He was as shocked as his wife, and he had no idea what to say.

For a moment Lucky was lost, adrift, until she realized that she'd better summon her strength and do something. "Call Danny and tell him to arrange a helicopter," she said, her throat dry and raw. "We have to get to Palm Springs immediately."

"I'm doing it now," Lennie said, hurrying from the room.

Lucky buried her head in her hands, her mind overflowing with deadly memories. She pictured her mother's body covered in blood floating on a raft in the family swimming pool. Then she thought of her brother, Dario, tossed from a car like a piece of garbage. And finally Marco-the love of her life before Lennie-gunned down in the parking lot of the Magiriano.

Violence had always been part of her life. Now this.

Oh God. Not Gino.

Yes. Gino.

She began thinking ... thinking ... going through a list of Gino's enemies from his nefarious past. Her head began filling with names-most of the men were deceased. She'd personally taken care of Gino's biggest enemy of all: her godfather, Enzio Bonnatti, the man responsible for the brutal murders of her beloved family. She'd shot the son of a bitch, claiming it was self-defense, that he'd been attempting to rape her. She'd gotten away with it, and she'd never regretted what she'd done, not for one single moment.

It was karma.

Never fuck with a Santangelo.

Unfortunately, there were many other members of the Bonnatti clan. There was also a slew of business associates who could be harboring grudges against Gino from way back.

Oh my God, she thought. So many vengeful people who might have felt they'd been wronged. So many faceless enemies.

Over the years, the Santangelos had seen more than their share of murder and mayhem.

Desperately, she attempted to gather her thoughts. Gino had not been involved in any business ventures for years. His life with Paige in Palm Springs consisted of an occasional dinner out with friends, poker night with old cronies, and watching classic movies on TV. Every so often he made the trip to Vegas, which as far as Lucky was concerned was not often enough.

Gino Santangelo.

Gino the Ram.

Stern father who'd married her off at sixteen.

Loving father who'd finally come to terms with the fact that she, his daughter, could do anything she set her mind to.

Gino was proud of all her achievements; he'd often told her she was the ballsiest woman he'd ever known. When he was feeling nostalgic, he called her his little Italian Princess-the nickname he'd used when she was a child, before Maria's murder, before he'd locked her and Dario away in an enormous Bel Air mansion to protect them.

Childhood memories overwhelmed her, mostly memories of family time with her gentle mother, and her younger brother, Dario. Gino was so happy then-not the stern father he'd turned into after Maria's murder.

Goddamn it! How could this happen to an old man who loved his grandkids, and possessed such a zest for life? I'm gonna live t' be one hundred an' three, he'd often boasted. Then they can finally bury my fine ass in the city I love.

Las Vegas. Gino had always had a thing for Vegas. His favorite hotel was the Magiriano-a combination of his name and Maria's. A special place with special memories.

Her uncle Costa had often regaled her with tales of Gino's misspent youth-racketeering, loan-sharking, owning a fancy speakeasy during prohibition, a lengthy stint in jail, countless women, then finally Vegas, where he'd turned things around and become a legitimate businessman building hotels and creating an empire.

It's impossible, Lucky thought. Gino cannot be gone. Not like this.

"You'd better get dressed," Lennie said, coming back into the room, interrupting her thoughts. "Danny's organizing everything."

She shook her head, clearing the cobwebs, wondering if this was indeed a devastating nightmare, and if she would wake up soon and everything would be fine.

Palm Springs was hot and balmy. Too damn hot, Lucky thought. Why did Gino choose to live in the fucking desert?

Oh yes, she knew why. Because Paige wanted to. Because Paige hated Vegas. She said it was too flashy and not a place to grow old. Gino had gone along with whatever Paige wanted, although he'd have been so much safer if he'd stayed in Vegas.

"I have to call Bobby, Steven, Max, and-" Lucky began.

"Don't even think about it," Lennie interrupted as a black sedan sped them from the helicopter pad toward Gino's house. "The deal is we should find out exactly what happened, then you call the kids."

Lucky threw him a furious look. "We know what happened," she said bitterly. "My father got shot in the fucking head. Isn't that enough?"

Danny sat silently next to the driver. He didn't know what to do or say, he only knew he had to be there for Lucky at all times.

"He should've kept his security guards," Lucky said, drumming her fingers on the leather seat. "I told him to, but as usual, he wouldn't listen."

"Gino refused to live like that," Lennie reminded her. "He was always talking about how much he enjoyed his freedom. No worries. No responsibilities. No shit. Just an old man living out his final days in Palm Springs."

"A stubborn old man," Lucky fumed, her anger mixing with the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. "I fucking hate him. He should've known better."

"You don't mean that," Lennie said.

"Yes. I do." After a long beat, she added a shaky, "No. I don't. Of course I don't. I loved him with all my heart."

"C'mon, Lucky. You've got to keep it together," Lennie said, taking her hand. "We're almost there."

"How am I supposed to know what to do?" she said sadly, once again feeling helpless because she knew there was nothing she could do.

Gino is dead.

My father is gone.

How can I carry on?

Because you're a goddamn Santangelo, a voice in her head said. It was Gino's voice. He was talking to her; she could hear him clearly.

She took a deep breath. Never fuck with a Santangelo.

Well, someone had. And they would pay for it. Oh yes, she would make sure of that.

The next few hours were a blur of activity. Homicide detectives were on the scene; police crime investigators were going door-to-door talking to the neighbors.

Paige was hysterical. Darlene, a friend of hers who lived nearby, had arrived at the house and was consoling her.

Lucky insisted on viewing Gino's body-which was still lying on the sidewalk.

Detective Allan, the lead detective assigned to the case, escorted her outside. Seeing her beloved father's lifeless body slumped on the sidewalk in his jogging outfit was simply too much. She felt a lump form in her throat and a gaping emptiness within. This couldn't be happening. Yet it was.

Gino, the invincible.

Shot. In the back of the head.

Dead.

How was this possible?

She curbed the urge to throw herself on top of his body and hug him close.

Finally, Detective Allan led her gently away. "We're very sorry, Ms. Santangelo," he said. "Everyone knew your father. He was a generous man-we could always depend on him to support all our events. Gino Santangelo was quite a character. He'll be missed."

Don't be sorry, she'd wanted to scream. Find out who the fuck did it. Do that, and I'll take care of the rest. "I know," she murmured.

It wasn't long before random people started bringing flowers and laying them on the ground next to the police tapes that surrounded the area where Gino had been gunned down. Bad news travels like lightning. TV cameras and their crews were also arriving on the scene-talking to neighbors, trying to blow the story up. Everyone was hungry for more.

After viewing Gino's body, Lucky took refuge in the house with Lennie by her side and Danny ready to do her bidding. Paige was now locked in the master bedroom with Darlene.

Lucky questioned Detective Allan. He informed her that so far Paige was their only witness. She'd made a statement that a man had jogged toward them, passing them as they walked along their usual path, then once he'd gone by, he'd apparently turned around and shot Gino in the back of the head. One bullet was all it took.

Paige's description of the man was sketchy. According to Paige he was dressed all in black, with a baseball cap pulled so low that it partially obscured his face, and dark sunglasses. Paige had gotten the vague impression that he could be in his thirties, but that was all she could come up with.

"Now's the time to call the kids," Lennie said, after Lucky had finished talking to Detective Allan. "Want me to take care of it?"

"It can wait," she said, shaking her head.

"No, it can't," Lennie insisted. "This is going to be all over the Internet. It's probably already up on Twitter. Besides, in the car, you said you wanted to call them."

"Not now, Lennie."

"Does that mean that you think it's a better idea for them to find out about it online?" he said.

"I can call," Danny volunteered, sensing tension.

Again Lucky shook her head. "No, Danny. What you can do is fix me a drink. Jack on the rocks. Then I'll call them."

"Since when did you start drinking Jack-" Lennie began.

"It was Gino's drink," Lucky interrupted sharply. "I'm having it for him."

Lennie understood his wife enough to know when to leave her alone. She had to process this tragedy in her own way, and it would take time.

"The celebration of Gino's life will be in Vegas," Lucky said to no one in particular. "Gino's wishes. He told me over and over exactly what he wanted when the time came." She turned to Danny. "Make sure the family knows this. Everyone will attend."

Danny had a slew of questions, only now was not the right time to ask them.

"Lennie," Lucky said, turning to her husband. "I'm going to stay here tonight. You should go back to L.A."

"Sweetheart," he said firmly, "there's no way I'm leaving you."

"You've got to do this for me," she insisted. "I have to talk to Paige, and after that I need to be alone."

"How about security?" Lennie asked, thinking that whoever had targeted Gino could come after Lucky.

"You think I can't protect myself?" she said, throwing him a fierce look.

"I know you can."

Her voice softened. "Then please do this for me."

Lennie knew there was no arguing with Lucky Santangelo. She might be his wife, but she was also a woman who always did things her way.

Today was no exception.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Concepcin Abascal was almost late for work, and this was bad, for Martha Crabstone, the surly housekeeper who was in charge of the hotel floor she worked on, had threatened to dismiss her if Concepcin was late one more time.

Unfortunately, the early evening traffic was not good, nor was her old car-a 1970s Buick that probably should have been laid to rest years ago. However, it was all Concepcin had to get around in, and with three young children to ferry back and forth to school, and an out-of-work disabled husband to care for, she depended on her car.

Fortunately, she made it just in time. Out of breath and flushed, she rushed into the room where all the hotel maids kept lockers and changed into her uniform.

Martha Crabstone stood guard. She was a formidable-looking woman with badly dyed black hair and hardly any forehead. This did not seem to faze her, for she wore scarlet lipstick and plenty of badly applied eye makeup. She was big and stout and usually in a vile mood.