Cherie Noir POV: At Franco’s daughter's House Watching
“I should’ve slit his throat the second I saw his face.”
I lit a cigarette with bloody fingers. Scarface sat across from me, grinning like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He lounged across from me in the front seat, picking food from his teeth with a pocketknife. Greasy hands. Bloody knuckles. Eyes that never stopped twitching.
We’d been sitting outside Franco’s daughter’s house for two straight days. No shower. No sleep. Just cold coffee and bad blood.
“You think Giordano paired us for fun?” he said. “He wants a f*****g circus.”
“He gets one more dead clown if you keep talking.”
He laughed, “Don’t tease me, sweetheart.”. Loud. Obnoxious. And fake as his stitched-up cheek.
I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.
We
