Giordano’s POV
“Say that again,” I said, loading a clip into my Glock real slow.
Scarface stood across the desk, sweaty, twitching. “The boy… he failed. Vittorio got him. I had to kill him before he talked.” He was stiff as a corpse. His scar twitched every time his jaw clenched. He knew what this was.
My finger paused on the slide. Click.
“You mean to tell me,” I said calmly, “you gave a drunk crackhead a job I trusted you with?”
Scarface opened his mouth. “I thought—”
“Don’t think.” I stood. My voice dropped cold. “You think when I give you permission to think?” “I I'm sorry, Boss. I didn’t wanna expose myself.”
“I trusted you with one thing,” I said, sipping slowly. “One. f*****g. Thing.”
“I’ll fix it,” he said quickly. “I’ve got a backup plan.”
“Oh, I know you do,” I said. T
