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Shame he wouldn’t enjoy it for long.
I followed close to Ewan, who crept along like a panther, lithe and ready and gorgeous. His eyes were sharp as he gestured ahead, and he stepped into the living room with the gun ready.
It was empty. A couch was against the wall on the right and a TV was mounted on the wall opposite. A fireplace looked well used, and several photos lined the mantel. I took a look and recognize some of the faces—they were guys that came around my dad sometimes. I figured they were clients. Now I realized they were, but not in the way I thought.
Ewan moved to the back hallway and I followed. I felt shaky and dizzy and I was afraid that I’d make too much noise at some point and ruin the whole thig. Ewan went first, and I followed, staying as close to him as I could without stepping on his heels. I was so sure that Colm could hear my pulse rocketing through my veins, but the house remained hushed.
The back hall led past a few doors. The first was open, and Ewan looked inside. There was a desk, a computer, and some filing cabinets. Ewan continued on, and I was tempted to go into that room to steal some of the files, or at least the computer, but I held off. We weren’t here for stealing, only for killing.
It was strange, how this all began with Ewan creeping into a house to murder someone, and now it felt like it was ending with the same thing.
We passed another door, but this one was shut. Ewan stared at me and pressed a finger to his lips. I nodded and stepped back. I put my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming with fear as he turned the doorknob and slowly opened the bedroom door.
It was black beyond. Curtains covered the windows. I saw vague shapes: bed, dresser, TV. Someone snored. Ewan reached for the light switch and hit it.
Two shapes resolved beneath a tangle of sheets. One was a big man going bald, hairy shoulders, squinting eyes. The other was a girl, maybe in her late twenties, skinny and naked, curled up next to the big guy. Ewan walked to the end of the bed and cursed softly.
It was Fergal and some girl.
Ewan nudged Fergal’s foot with his gun. The big guy snorted once, tried to roll over, and nearly crushed his date. The girl groaned, then blinked awake. She stared at Ewan, mouth open, like a scream was locked in her throat before she started smacking Fergal on the chest.
“What?” Fergal grunted, coming awake. “What the fuck are you doing, bitch? What the fuck—” He stopped when he saw Ewan calmly holding the gun. I remained hovering behind him, watching the whole scene with horrible fascination. The girl was naked, and her fake breasts were like metal cans on her chest. She didn’t move, couldn’t move, and Fergal scrambled to sit up. He was in nothing but boxers.
“Hello, Fergal,” Ewan said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Fergal squinted and held up his hands. “Is that Ewan?” he asked. “I can’t see well without my glasses these days.”
“Where’s your brother?” Ewan asked. “Is he home?”
“Colm?” Fergal barked a laugh. “Colm doesn’t fucking live here.”
“This is Colm’s place,” Ewan said with an edge of angry panic. “I followed you here, after breakfast at that diner—”
“He doesn’t live here,” the girl said, “this is Fergal’s house. Colm don’t live here. He just stops in sometimes. Please don’t kill me.”
Ewan didn’t even glance at her. Fergal shrugged a little, smiling. “Guess you got the wrong address,” he said.
“Fuck,” Ewan said softly.
“All right then,” Fergal said. “We can make a deal. I’ve got cash here and some drugs. You can have the girl too, if you like, we can—”
Ewan pulled the trigger. Fergal’s head exploded back in a shower of gore and blood. It sprayed out his skull and covered the headboard, splattering the girl beside him. She tried to scream, but couldn’t and fell sideways onto the floor. Ewan stepped closer and shot Fergal again twice in the chest before shoving the gun back into his waistband.
“I’d run, if I were you,” he said to the girl on the floor. “Get dressed, take all the cash Fergal’s got, and run. Leave the drugs though. You’ll get yourself killed.” He glanced back at me and shook his head slowly.
I stood staring at Fergal’s body. Blood seeped from the wounds and soaked the sheets and mattress. There was so much blood, like that night Ewan killed my father. I’d been shocked at how much had come out of him, and I didn’t think another human could have so much in them.
Fergal had that much blood. Maybe we all did.
Ewan took my hand. “Tara,” he said softly. “Tara, we have to go. Can you move?”
