In Prohibition-Era Kansas City, being a part of the underworld was sometimes both a figurative and literal concept. In an underground speakeasy located just outside of the metropolis, Paul Verconi was already aware of the risks involved in simply being where he was and who he was. On this rainy night, he'd been looking for nothing more than a few drinks to soothe his nerves before heading home. However, what came looking for Paul would prove to be even tougher to swallow than the diluted bootleg whiskey swirling in his dirty glass: a drop-dead gorgeous dame that was enigmatic, curiously silent ... and perhaps even dangerous.
