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In less than twelve hours C. J. Callahan’s life would be over, and there was nothing he could do about it.
His long-fingered hand loosely wrapped around a longneck, C. J. sat in the back booth of his bar, Callahan’s, on the West Side of New York and contemplated his life … or what was left of it.
At 9:00 AM sharp he’d take over running Callahan Software Company. C. J. tucked his dark head, then lifted it to stare around the neighborhood bar that he’d first helped his uncle operate for five years, then owned outright after his uncle’s