Jesus. Poor Franco.
Not saying the fucker didn’t deserve it though.
I look to the girls. Candy's face is tear-streaked, her lips open wide puffing small rapid bursts of air. Felony leans forward as if taking in every detail. As soon as I’m close enough, her hands grasp my arms and she holds on to me tight.
It feels so damn good that I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bring her into my chest. She folds into me without a fight.I’m the safest bet in a cave full of monstersand she knows it.
"What happened?" I snarl, looking over her trembling shoulder to Tony.
Through a face full of snot and drool, Candy sobs, "I...I...I just found him heeerrrreeeee. I think. I think. I think," she bumbles and stammers, "I-think-he's-dead!" She raises a thin trembling hand to her face and wipes her whole arm across her nose.
"What made you come to that conclusion, sweetheart? The dozen bullet holes? Or the two gallons of red shit all over my fucking floor?" Tony rumbles angrily next to her. "Get her the fuck out of here," he bellows.
"But I was...I was with him last night..."
Tony and I exchange a look over the girls’ heads.
"I got her," Felony says, sliding her arms from around me and bending down to help Candy up. I’m instantly furious her touch is gone—more so than the fact that Franco got himself executed.Did Tony have anything to do with it?
"Stupid broads, they give me headaches," Tony hisses under his breath as soon as they’re out of sight.
My eyes scan the area. It doesn't even look like he put up a fight. It’s as if he was ambushed, by who knows how many guys.
"What the hell is that, Corrado?What the fuck is that?"
My eyes snap to his and follow his pointing finger to a note taped to a shelf right above Franco's pale-faced corpse. Scribbled on a piece of yellow legal pad paper are the words:
And now there's nine.
Rippingit out of its place, Tony crumples it in his fist, giving me a faint troubled glance. "Somebody wants to play a game? Sending this stupid message. Call everyone for a meeting in thirty."
“Yeah, boss. No problem.” Quickly, I thumb out a text to the crew about an emergency meeting, ending it with a line of triple nines. They all know the code and what it means.One of us is down, get here now.
"Fucking stupidguinea. What the fuck did he do?" Tony growls. “Who the fuck would…you think it was anything to do with—”
A shuffling sound comes from behind us, killing Tony’s words dead. It’s Felony walking back in with a bucket of water in one hand, a bottle of bleach under her arm, and a mop in her other hand.
"You get her to shut up?" Tony asks, looking up at her.
"No. She's still crying in the lounge," she answers, low.
"Fucking stupidgoomah," he growls.
"I think she loved him, Tony. She’s going to be upset for a little while, let her grieve," Felony says, placing the bucket on the floor. Water sloshes over the side and mixes with the dark red of the floor.
"Eh. She's a stupidputtana. She loved sucking his dick for money. And I don't pay you to think, sweetheart."
Her eyes turn cold, and for the briefest of moments I think she may slap him. Instead she unscrews the bleach bottle and splashes the choking stench of disinfectant into the air.
Tony points down to the bleach and the mop. "What the fuck is that for?"
Her eyes narrow.
He turns to me and laughs, “This one never had to clean up blood before, huh? She must be agood girl.”
With my hand against the small of her back, I escort her into the back room, “You don’t have to clean up the mess. It’s not yours to clean. And trust me. The bleach won’t cut it.”
"What's going on, Corrado? Do you know anyone who would do something like that?" Her eyes are wide, looking up at me.
