Orange Blossom Mob

BULLETS RICOCHETED around his chest like pinballs, fracturing ribs and puncturing FBI Agent Frank Fernandez’ right lung. He was sent reeling backwards. Fernandez crumpled to the dingy, empty Miami warehouse floor. Warm blood poured down inside his shirt. The pain was excruciating, every breath a knife turning in the agent’s upper body. He began to lose vision—a whi- teout erased the emergency medical technician trying to save his life. Then the blackness swam