It wasn't the cold that made him shiver, it was the realization of the harsh recklessness of what he had just done. Was it worth it? Hard to say at this point, but at least he'd gotten what he'd came for. The smooth steel berretta clanged noisily as he tossed it into the metal trash can. Not that anyone was around to hear it. As he inhaled Sloan caught a new whiff of expired gun powder. it's strange how a scent from a few moments ago can all of a sudden come back with the intensity of when it first happened. As if the moment were trying to relive itself. As if he still had a choice.
He pulled on the drawstrings of his hoodie to block out the harsh February Toronto wind. It had always seemed strange to Sloan that with the millions of buildings and bodies in this city generating heat that it could still be so cold. Should have worn a damn jacket thought Sloan to himself as the wind bit right through his cotton sweater. It seemed like an obvious thing to do now, but it was the last thing on his mind a couple of hours ago when he had left. Making sure the safety was on as he awkwardly stuffed the beretta into his waist was all he was thinking about. Movies made it seem simple and inconspicous to conceal a weapon, but as he stepped on to the subway it had felt like everyone could see the gun protruding through his shirt. He quickened his pace in an attempt to keep warm, the slight bulge of his newly aquired package bumping lightly against his stomach with each step. Sloan made a right onto Delmont and ducked into the alley on the south side of the street, expecting to see the black Volvo that had changed his life only a week ago.
Fuck, where the fuck are they, they were supposed to be here. Sloan fumbled for his phone and cracked it open. With all the money they had, it surprised him they had given him the piece of shit flip phone. Sloan hadn't seen one in years. He had at least expected it to have gps receiver to track him. Although it didn't seem to matter, they seemed to be able to find him wherever he was regardless. And his throbbing right hand still reminded him daily what would happen if he tried to run. His fingers shook violently as he struggled to press the redial button. He wasn't sure if it was the cold or quickly fleeting adrenaline that made him shake more, but after the third attempt the phone finally began to ring.
"Is it done?" said the voice on the other side.
"Ya, its done, where the hell are y..." the line cut out before he could finish. Sloan cursed and snapped the phone shut. Before he could contemplate what to do next the black Volvo screeched to a halt at the end of the alley. As Sloan approached the vehicle, the passenger window slid down. the man inside was barely visible with the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp a block away.
"You have no more business with us. Your debts are settled." came the voice inside. With that the window began to slide up.
"Wait, what about this?", Sloan held up the half a kilo of cocaine that was tucked into his hoodie pocket.
"I wouldn't recommend doing it all at once", replied the man inside as the Volvo shifted into first and took off fast enough to make the tires screech.
Sloan did not know how long he stood there motionless with the bag of cocaine, the nights events slowly sinking in. It had begun to snow, big white wet flakes that clung to his sweater and built up quickly. A month ago he would have given anything to be in possesion of this much coke, but now as he glanced down at the tightly wrapped package he began to vomit.
A siren in the distance brought him back to reality. He knew it wasn't for him, they couldn't have found the body this quickly. All the same he forced himself to start walking. He didn't know where he was going to go, but he knew he couldn't stay here.
