All right, drum roll . . . I, the hit-man people call Virgil, a humble country boy from Georgia, have peaked. At thirty-three, I’ve actually managed to:
– Leave Georgia—that alone ain’t no easy feat.
– Retire—got injured on duty, just a flesh wound.
– BUY A CASTLE IN FRANCE and the goddamn title to go with it. It’s Monsieur le Comte, to you now, and I even bought myself a mean crossbow to test the arrowslits: sweet.
Now, the place does need a bit of TLC, there’s a serial killer living down the road, and I’ve got a cute, catatonic girl following me around who goes by Ted.
And that’s just for starters: apparently, my castle is also in the crosshairs of a N’drangheta boss. Carmine Musco—that’s the guy—wants a pair of old Italian paintings that I bought along with the place, and he’s willing to kill me for those. Well, he ain’t gonna be the first to try, and I guarantee that he won’t be the last either, because Ted and I make a hell of a team, and we’re going medieval on his ass.
Not time to explain: jump in and let THE COUNT take you on a high-octane rampage through the South of France that’s definitely not in tourist guides . . .