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“Someone will be in touch with you about the details. I hold your mortgage now. You’ll be making your payments to me.”
    The Marquezes swallowed hard, fearing what was coming next.
    â€œFour hundred and fifty dollars a month,” Michael said, quoting a price less than half of what they’d been paying before, “no money down. Does that work for you?”
    The Marquezes couldn’t stop nodding.
    â€œWhy do you do this, señor ?” Juan asked him.
    Michael reached inside, smiling reflectively as he patted the boy’s head and then winked at him. “Because I know what it’s like to lose a home.”

 
    SIX
    L AS V EGAS, N EVADA
    â€œTyrant, Tyrant, Tyrant!”

    The crowd’s chant echoed in his head as Michael Tiranno strode up the aisle of the Seven Sins Casino’s Magnum Arena. He gazed ahead at the steel cage in the center of the arena where a giant of a man was currently slapping himself in the chest. His thin gloves, standard issue for Mixed Martial Arts, or MMA, fighters made a hollow whapping sound, getting louder as the slaps became pounds beneath the bright lighting spilling down over the otherwise dark arena.
    Durado Segura, better known as “the Executioner,” was the reigning heavyweight champion who would be defending his title tomorrow night right here against the undefeated number one contender. Tonight was reserved for a charity “bout” between Michael and Segura with two thousand in attendance at a thousand dollars per head, the money going to one of the numerous efforts supported by Tyrant Entertainment, Tyrant Global, and King Midas World.
    â€œYou don’t have to do this, Michael,” Alexander Koursaris, his personal bodyguard and protector, had said as they made their way through an underwater tunnel that linked the arena to the hotel and casino via the resort’s Daring Sea. A few of the marine environment’s more curious deadly residents pressed up against the glass, seeming to study him. “You shouldn’t do it.”
    â€œI feel like a clown in this outfit,” Michael said, straightening his trunks. “But it’s for charity, Alexander. And what’s the harm?”
    â€œHarm? Let’s start with the risk you’re taking by getting in the ring with this monster.”
    Alexander was every bit the match for Segura in a fair fight and then some. In fact, Michael reasoned, the Executioner would never have stood a chance against this man who’d survived the slums of Athens as a boy only because of his fists, further refining his trade in years of service with the French Foreign Legion where he became a legend.
    â€œAnything for the right cause,” Michael said, shrugging. “And this is the right cause.”
    â€œSo long as your ticket to heaven doesn’t come with a stop in the intensive care ward,” Alexander warned. “Do I need to remind you that Segura once put a car lot owner through a windshield while filming a public service commercial?”
    â€œTwice already was enough.”
    â€œThen what am I missing here? Please, tell me.”
    *   *   *
    Michael thought back to his first meeting as a small boy in Sicily with Luciano Scaglione, the mafia don who’d raised him as his own son after the murder of his parents. How Don Luciano had knelt down before him and eased a notebook from one of his pants pockets. The notebook was covered in well-worn brown leather faded in patches. Inside, the edges of the pages had yellowed with age and featured tabs separating equal-size clumps into sections, seven of them.
    â€œDo you know what sin is, Michele?”
    â€œSomething bad,” Michael replied.
    Don Luciano regarded Michael warmly, making him feel safe for the first time since the shots had rang out. “There are seven deadly sins and all men have committed more than their share of them, me more than most,” he said, with