Kiss Me Dangerous

1| Guns and Gangsters

Freddie

The game had already begun—the struggle for power and the demand for blood was staining the air with purpose. It was the tiniest of shifts, but every man in the room had sensed it.

My father took a threatening step forward, warning the men at the table against anything stupid, but I watched intently as their hands moved to their weapons—their fingers fumbling for the hand pieces that were protruding out of the waistbands of their trousers. They were young and opportunistic, so that meant that they were also stupid.

I met my brother's gaze, lifting my fingers from the seat I had taken in the far corner of the room. Two fingers—it was a small indication, but it showed him what I saw. They had two guns, and this could get ugly quick if they weren't apprehended.

Robbie moved around them, and I watched as their bodies tensed. They had come to us dripping with arrogance and bravado thinking they were doing us a favour. That was the thing about ambitious men, they always seemed to think they had the upper hand. Manipulative and unpredictable, they didn't know how to heed on the side of caution. My father was the worst of them, that was why they had no chance. That was why they had no hope of getting out of here without any sort of retaliation because my father didn't deal with mercy—he dealt with fury and force.

Robbie was standing behind them now and I leaned forward in my seat—it was the slightest of movements, but it was enough to distract them as he leaned forward to grab the gun from the guy on the left. The man on the right pulled his own weapon on instinct and pointed it at Robbie's head. They were risk-takers—to get anywhere in this sort of business you needed to know how to take risks. The problem lay with the fact that they had forgotten who they were dealing with and pointing a gun at one of the Kings of Cullfield was a mistake you couldn't amend.

Robbie tilted his head towards the weapon, a dark smirk lifting onto his lips. He knew now that the outcome of their situation had been promised, and that I was no longer an accessory in the corner of the room. Robbie's eyes gleamed wickedly as he shared a look with me because he knew that they had just signed their death warrants, and I was going to be the one to fulfil them in the most terrible of ways.

I relaxed in my seat again, pulling out the knife from my sleeve and flipping it between my fingers. Usually, when I waited for my father's command, it was always the same and it was always boring. Loyalty was a fickle friend in these parts of town, and when betrayal was caught, it was always in the form of weak men begging for their lives when they knew that their fate was already sealed.

"Don't be stupid—we were finally getting somewhere, I thought we were here to talk." My father sighed as he tried to placate their nerves, but the doubt had already begun to creep into their bodies.

The man's aim wavered for a moment and Robbie snatched the gun from his grip before he could make a decision for himself. My father was playing a dirty game of make-believe, he had been attentive and convincing as he tried to make them trust him—but they were idiots to believe you could ever trust anyone in this life.

The men looked between themselves, silently having a conversation before their eyes caught the three of us in the room. It was clear to them that my father was our leader and it was clear to them that Robbie was his muscle, so they wiped me off as a threat altogether—another mistake they didn't realise they were making.

I sat a fair distance away from my father and brother, giving off the illusion that I wasn't involved—but I wasn't here for the negotiations and the talk of business, I was here for the aftermath.

Taking the corner of the room had been a strategic choice, I had the line of sight of everything in this space—from the placement of the furniture to all the known exits. In my presence, leaving wasn't going to be an option for them.