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“Correct. Are we done?”
“You’re undercutting me. Practically giving away the guns for free. Go back to wherever you were.”
“Well, you see, Mr. Ox, I would love to, but some fucker dug up my pops from his resting place. You know anything about that?” I lift the gun a fraction more.
Hands up in surrender, he takes a step back. “I think I can help you there.”
“You have information on my father?”
“Yes.”
I nod, lowering my gun, pulling on my cigarette and inhaling the nicotine deeply. “Why don’t you step into my office?” I ask, gesturing with the gun and moving aside, smiling my welcome.
Looking wary, as he absolutely should, he casts his eyes over me, James, and Otto, then indicates for his men to follow. I look across to the girls as I wander through, seeing both looking uncomfortably... comfortable. Like this is normal. Everyday life.
As I pass the DJ stand, I look up at the DJ, nodding my approval to the current track. AdamskiKiller. “Can I get you a drink?” I ask. “Vodka? That’s what you Russians like, isn’t it? Or is that the Polish?” I look back at James, and he shakes his head in dismay, exasperated, but if I don’t adopt this style, I’m likely to make a mess of Hiatus.
“I prefer rum,” he grunts, as I let him in the office. All three of his men pass, all silent, not one having murmured a word yet. They can’t speak English.
Then my men follow, giving me questioning eyes as they step inside and I turn, closing the door. Just before the wood meets the frame, I see the DJ, his hand poised on the volume dial. I shut the door and face the room. “I’m assuming whoever dug up my father wouldn’t want to drag a dead body far,” I muse, almost thoughtful, holding up my cigarette and looking at the stick as it hisses, burning, glowing. “So I’m guessing we should be looking in the eastern area, because that’s where the cathedral is andthatis where he’s buried.” I look up at The Ox. “Orwasburied.”
“Correct.”
I nod, inhale, breathing out deeply. I see James, Otto, Brad, and Nolan in the edge of my vision move aside and hear the music in the club crank up. I slip my cigarette back between my lips. I’m done with his bullshit, outraged that he thought he could turn up here unannounced and tell me what I can and cannot do, where I can and cannot be and, worse, tempt me with knowledge of my father’s whereabouts.
I give no warning, no hint through my expression.
I turn and open fire, spreading the bullets between all four of the fuckers. Their arms lift and shake, like they’re fucking breakdancing, and I don’t stop until my belt is empty and my gun is clicking. I pull on my cigarette and breathe out, long and happily. I needed that. One less spider in the web. Or fucking animal in the god damn zoo. Whatever. But fuck... “What a fucking mess.”
“And still,” James says, looking across the carnage. “Nowhere near as messy as when Nolan lived in here.”
I look at him, bemused. “Seriously?”
“Mate, there was shit growing on shit.”
“True story,” Brad sighs, slapping the man himself on the shoulder.
Nolan shows the ceiling his palms. “Should I get this cleared up?”
“You should,” I grumble, dropping the gun. “And now I’m taking my wife home.” I open the door. “Don’t ask me if I’m going to fuck her or kill her, because I haven’t made my mind up.”
“Jesus,” I hear Brad breathe. “I guess I’m going too, in case he opts for option two.” He faces Nolan, pointing at him. “Be-fucking-have.”
I stop outside the office and have another drag, finding Rose at the bar, still facing this way, waiting. I point my cigarette to the door, and she gets up quickly, kissing Beau’s cheek and heading out of the club. Brad passes me to accompany her, and I make my way over to Beau. “The way I see it,” I say, prompting her to look up at me. “You’ve got two choices.”
“And what are they, Danny?”
“Live or die,” I answer, raising my brows. “I know which oneIwant you to take.”
“Are you saying you’ll kill me if I don’t stand down?”
“No, Beau, I’m sayingyouwill kill you if you don’t stand down. And you’ll kill James too, because he and I share the same ethos when it comes to living.” Her head tilts in question. “We can’t do it without our hearts, as black and damaged and fucked up as they fucking are.” She knows I’m not talking about our internal organs. “Get some sleep,” I order. “You look like fucking shit.” Exhausted. Drained. Angry.
“Thanks,” she mutters as I walk away.
“That’s what friends are for,” I call back. “And for the record, I’m sorry about your father.”
I find Rose by the doors, and she launches the moment she has me within reach. “What happened?” she asks, scanning me up and down, looking for signs of damage.
