Celluci opened the passenger door, then closed it again. “Will you do something for me?” “Anything.” His snort was an eloquent testimony to his disbelief. “Just try to be careful. Don’t expect anything as civilized as the Godfather . . .” “Not even the bit where Sonny gets offed or the brother-in-law gets strangled? Or where they dump Fredo in the lake?” Her brow furrowed dramatically. “And didn’t they kill the Pope in part three?” “Vicki . . .” “Michael,” she mimicked. “Look, I was a cop. I helped bag the bodies. I know these aren’t the good guys.” “Yeah, well, organized crime has changed over the last few years.” He twisted in the seat until he faced her. “Most of the old school has been buried, one way or another, and the new lot’s a group of vicious young punks who kill because they can. There used to be rules of a sort.
