Leandra Parsons

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“Dad, please.” Slowly she pulled away, then looked at her palms now covered in his blood. Her clothes and hair were already soaked with her and the Russian’s blood. She began quivering, her wide-eyed gaze hitting me. “Savio…” “Shhh,” I crooned, touching her cheek.
Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles, #5)
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