Giordano POV, Earlier At The Fake Safehouse, They Blew
"You idiots couldn’t catch a cold in a snowstorm."
I stepped out of the black SUV like a storm rolling in. My boots hit the gravel. My jaw clenched. The wreckage of the failed raid still smoked behind the so-called safehouse. Bodies, blood, confusion. Smoke still hung in the air.
Scarface stood near the busted porch, limping, his cheek split open again, still stitched from last time. He looked like a kicked dog.
Good.
"Which one of you thick-headed motherfuckers let them escape?!"
I slammed Scarface into the side of the door so hard his skull bounced off the steel. He groaned, spitting blood, but I wasn’t done. Not even close.
"Giordano—f**k—we didn’t know Ghost was baiting us!"
"You didn't know?" I grabbed his face, forcing
