Marvel: Ma'am, I'm your husband's boss

This made Fisk almost unable to bear it anymore.

He lowered his head slightly, and the tip of his nose almost touched the black stockings.

A faint fragrance spreads out.

This was even more tempting to him than the pasta.

Saliva pooled between the lips.

"Well!"

Sister Maria suddenly let out a soft moan.

Fisk finally woke up and ran out of the house as if he was fleeing.

Until Fisk's footsteps completely faded away.

A smile slowly formed at the corner of Sister Maria's mouth.

She rubbed it gently, her black stockings already somewhat damp, and turned her body over.

"Good night, little Fisk."

Chapter 48 The Irishman’s Finale!

A harsh sound of wind began to be heard in the sky.

This attracted a lot of people's attention.

However, when they raised their heads, the cursing sounds disappeared.

Because they were surprised to find out.

in the sky.

There were actually two or three police helicopters flying side by side.

In the distance, the sound of alarm bells rang out at the right time.

Police cars whizzed by, adding a touch of bustle to the New York afternoon.

Refrigerated trucks from fresh food companies are running all over the streets.

However, what was placed inside was not any frozen food, but corpses that had already been frozen into ice cubes, or had not yet been frozen into ice cubes.

The bodies of Irish people were scattered all over the streets.

Their bodies were wrapped in either expensive or cheap suits, shirts and leather shoes. The shrouds were different, but their bodies were covered with consistent and dense bullet holes like a honeycomb.

The way he died was extremely tragic.

Basically, they were shot to death. Some had three to five holes in their bodies. Some were even shot from behind, with their heads beaten into a pulp.

Very Mafia-esque.

The Italians have a legitimate reason.

Especially since Benjamin was still alive.

None of the gangsters had any sympathy for the Irish.

Although the Italian Mafia is not very powerful in the United States, it is an orthodox underworld family in old Europe. The world is a circle. What level of Irish people dare to rob the vault of the Italian Mafia?

Doesn’t this mean that in the future he will dare to rob the vaults of other gangs?

This has caused public outrage.

So most of the underworld gangs turned a blind eye to the Irish people's calls for help.

The other two of New York's four major gangs did not participate in the Italians' purge of the Irish.

The Mexicans did not react to this incident.

Of course, that vicious woman must be behind this.

As for the Russians...these guys have been having a blast lately with those Soviet-made bullet casings.

Although the Soviet Union has collapsed, the relationship between the Free States and Russia still makes them a thorn in the side of law enforcement agencies... What do the Russians want to do by bringing in so much ammunition and munitions?

Could it be that they are preparing to launch a terrorist attack?

However, in the eyes of the Russians, this is nothing more than self-deception and groundless worries of a bunch of white gentlemen.

However, for American congressmen who value their lives extremely, the Russians are capable of anything.

Therefore, the official pressure they are facing now is no less than that of the Mexicans.

This also left them with no time to intervene in the war between the Italians and the Irish, let alone take advantage of the situation.

"Boss, the surviving Irish leaders have gathered together. They are discussing countermeasures and are preparing to fight back." Lester sat in the truck, looking at the brightly lit bar in the distance, his mouth full of disdain, "Boss, do you want to come over and kill them yourself?"

"If I have to do everything myself.

What do you need me for?" Fisk was carrying a desk. He was a powerful man in New York City now, so he had to get himself a proper desk, right?

The key point is that the table must be large enough for one person to squat.

The purpose of doing this is, of course, to be able to hide inside the table when a gunman breaks into the office. This means that there must be a baffle under the table, and it is best to leave only a thin gap... Don't get me wrong, this is really for Fisk's own safety.

Really!

Lester didn't hang up the phone, but rolled his eyes and said, "Boss, there's something wrong with the people who came. How come even the Teamsters Union sent people here?"

"Isn't this normal?" Fisk said nonchalantly, "The Teamsters Union has always been controlled by the Irish, and there are millions of members in the union. Even if each of these members only pays one dollar, it is still millions of dollars, not to mention that they pay more than that to the Teamsters Union every year.

The IRS is most annoyed by this kind of union. As long as they pay taxes on time, the IRS will not check their accounts at all. However, the Irish treat the Truckers Union as their own piggy bank, using the Truckers Union's money to invest in real estate, stocks, funds and various other businesses.

The president, accountant, vice president and a series of other people in the Truckers Union have long become puppets of the Irish.

Even someone from the Irish Mafia.

If you look up their nationality, you will find that their original nationality is Irish.

If they don't come now, when will they come?

Are we going to wait for the Italians to come knocking on our door?

Cut off their heads one by one?"

Fisk finally installed the table. Looking at the tall desk, he began to unpack the chair box.

Although it is not very tiring, it is really too awkward to use my broad palms to tighten those tiny screws. It seems that it is time to hire a secretary. Small jobs like this can be completely handed over to the secretary!

Just as I was thinking this, there was a knock on the door of the room.

Fisk was stunned.

I was wondering who was outside the door?

He had sent all his men out on a mission to strangle the Irish.

Who would it be at this time?

Is it an uninvited guest?

The door was pushed open.

Sister Maria came in with a tea tray.

On top was a piece of pizza that had just come out of the oven and a cup of coffee that had a faint bitter aroma.

Smell the parsley coming from the pizza.

Fisk looked at Sister Maria nervously.

After seeing that there was nothing unusual about Sister Maria.

Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.

Temporarily block the sound of the phone call on your side.

"Sister Maria, why are you here?"

"Just call me Maria. No need to mention Sister. I haven't been a nun for many years." Sister Maria looked around the bright room and saw the box that had just been opened on the ground. She squatted down kindly and asked, "Do you need my help?"

The long nun's robe spreads down along the soft waist curve, wrapping up Sister Maria's seductive buttocks tightly. Even though the nun's robe is wide, you can see that the curve is stretched tightly. The robe extends up and down, and a pair of thighs wrapped in black stockings are full of flesh. The two slender thighs are symmetrical and parallel to each other.

Attracting Fisk's attention.

But he didn't dare to look any longer.

Afraid of being discovered by Sister Maria.

Sister Maria seemed to have not thought of this at all. She picked up the screwdriver on the ground and started to assemble the boss chair. "It seems that you are in trouble."

Fisk smiled awkwardly and stretched out his broad palm to compare it with the screw that was only half the size of a fingernail. "My fingers are a little too thick. It's really too much to deal with such a small thing."

Sister Maria smiled like a flower, “Then let me help you.

Little Fisk, come and try the pizza I made. I haven't baked pizza for many years since leaving Italy.

I gave half to Fa Zi and half to you. If it's not enough, I'll bake another one and send it to you when I get back." As he was talking, a loud voice suddenly came from the phone in the distance.

"Boss! Something is wrong.

Guess who I saw?"

Lester suddenly frowned, stretched out his hand and took out the telescope. At the same time, he entered the cargo hold behind him, climbed up the ladder on the wall of the cargo hold, and looked out through the tiny gap in the cargo hold. From his high vantage point, he finally saw the face clearly.

That is!

"Who did you see?"

Fisk felt Lester holding his breath on the other end of the phone, and stopped what he was doing: ""

"I saw the mayor of New York City...Do the Irish still have such a powerful backer?" Lester's tone was a little strange, "Are you still going to do this vote?"

Fisk was stunned!

After a moment's silence, he asked Lester to wait.

Dialed another number.

Heavy metal rock music came from the other end of the phone.

The sound of tinkling guitars continued to be heard, and at the same time there was a heart-wrenching roar, as if someone was shouting into a rap.