AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The leader of the Gaspar family is sitting in a booth inside of a seedy strip club across town. He’s unaware, body relaxed, while a dancer gyrates atop the table like a perverse buffet. Men sit and watch, point and make lewd gestures, while ignoring the three men walking inside and taking over a table near theirs.
Then again, it’s dark in here with the harsh strobe light highlighting specific areas: the stage, and two high, circular platforms that have a pole at the center and are only big enough to hold two people at the most. Then, there’s the tobacco smoke and the lines of blow in plain sight.
Most of the men here surround the stage, tipping the girls, while a few sit to the side with a dancer on their lap and with wandering hands.
My eyes shift around the room, and I find a few more of his men spread throughout, not really paying attention. They’re busy celebrating something, the ends of their noses powdery white while their pupils are blown wide. Stumbling. Laughing. Fucking twats.
All out in the open, no fucks given. However, their unprofessionalism works in my favor.
“Spread them cheeks, sweetheart. Show me how loose you are for me?” Flavio says, his stubby finger running up the young woman’s leg while she dances with her eyes closed. The smile on her face is fake, forced, and highlighted by the mirror above where they sit, but none seem to care. They ignore. Sick fucks.
I point to the emergency exit near the restrooms and Kray stands, quickly taking position and blocking with his weapon drawn. The bouncers here won’t be an issue. We’ve already taken care of them, knocked unconscious by the front door and then dragged off to the side of the building.
“I can handle those by the stage,” Casper says. In his hands are two loaded Rugers like mine, but his are from a limited addition line. Mine are all black, the silencer matching the murdered-out powder coat finish. “You ready?”
“Always.” We share a look and wait. Watch as those around us become more inebriated, uncoordinated, while laughing at the implication of their boss’s words. His hands are higher up the dancer’s thighs, almost to her core when the first shots are fired. Then, there is chaos.
Blood splashes the front of a waitress at the center of the room, and the man she’d been serving while pushing his hands away is dead upon impact: neck wound with a head thrown back by the force. Her scream is the first to rend the air, but quickly a symphony of fear overtakes the room as panic and confusion—the flight or fight instinct—takes over and like roaches, bodies begin to scatter.
Many fall, pushing against each other as they fight to get out while the second and third bullet rips through the wall near Flavio’s head. His men stand, eyes darting around the room while missing the two men standing a few feet away with their guns drawn.
They’re too high. Too unprepared. Yelling at each other while their unfocused eyes dart around the room in search of the threat. Not once do they look at us; they glance over and then focus on the other side of the stage as if the perpetrator is using the elevated platform as coverage.
Having men like these is a costly mistake for someone who is hell-bent on making enemies. Because in this world, you never let your guard down. You don’t stop questioning every single person that walks into the room you occupy, and you never get plastered while on the job. Losing the awareness of your surroundings is dangerous: a death sentence.
A lesson this family needs to learn.
From his place by the emergency exit, Kray fires three consecutive times, and more bodies fall. The women huddled against a wall all cry, shaking, but he raises the gun to his lips and taps it once. Silence.
They quiet down, still whimpering a bit, but calm down enough to walk when he steps aside and lets them scramble out the door.
“The fuck!” Flavio screams, shoving the poor scared woman and table out of the way, knocking her hard onto the ground while those around him crowd in a protective way. Casper shoots again, hits one of the enforcers in the knee, tripping him, and the man’s sheer size alone knocks the two beside him to the ground. “Fire back! Find who’s shooting!”
Six left.
“Bloody idiots,” my cousin sneers, lip curling in disgust while I aim at the arm of Gaspar’s right-hand man. I’d studied his profile earlier today, a young wannabe playboy related to the man I killed last time we had words. I killed the last right hand arsehole, and I’ll prove just how easily I can do so again. “It’s insulting to the human species.”
“Agreed.” Another shot, this one to the opposite arm. He falls back on impact, yelling some form of a curse that makes no sense when I step forward. “Oi. Your men are too slow, mate. You’re bloody sitting ducks.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Callum, what are you doing here?” Flavio, and some bloke who’s too green in the gills, speak in unison. One with fear. One with cockiness.
The latter of the two slumps over with a bullet to his head before I respond, my silencer muting the sound. “Muzzle your pets, Gaspar. My patience is running thin tonight.”
A flash of fear crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly. “Is Casper aware of the trouble you’re causing tonight? There are codes in place, Jameson. You’re starting a conflict between our—”
“Silence.” Casper steps in beside me, his face impassive. “I’m not his boss. Callum makes his own calls.”
You can see the confusion on his face and the utter look of loss on what’s left of his men. Their expression says it all.
No one else is here. The music, a heavy-based beat, plays in the background while the lights continue to highlight how easily we ruined their night. How easy they are to kill.
“Sit, Flavio.” I point my gun to the area he’d been enjoying himself in before. The dancer he’d been touching is on the ground, though. She’s not unconscious but is shaking in fear, and I look over at Kray. “Get her cleaned up and out.”
“Yes, sir.” Without another word, he walks over and kneels next to the woman. He says something and she nods, quickly gripping his hand, and then stands on trembling legs.
“Tip her.”
