Harry's POV
"What can I do then, Zayn!" I say, raising my voice a little higher than I had expected to. I came to Zayn because I know he will find I way to help us but then again, take advantage. I can feel it.
"Chill your fucking horses Styles." Zayn says, snorting. "I have an idea..." He wanders off, clicking his pen on his chestnut desk.
I was so annoyed with him. If it weren't for the fact that I did do the job he gave me, and that he was giving me a shitload of money, I would walk out of here after possibly swinging a pinch of two at his face.
"Well?" I say, annoyed.
"Maybe, since your father is you know, in town. I could have men track him down and take care of him." He smirks. Why was he smiling?
"There's a catch." I realize.
"Of course, of course Styles. As always." He agrees in a weird tone. "If I get my best man to go out after this guy, then your return would be to kill him yourself."
"What, do I need to repeat myself?" Zayn shakes his head and laughs. I must have a pretty confused look on my face because, well, I am and he noticed. Why would my part be what I've always wanted to do to him all along? That fucking douchebag is trying to put me in jail for things he did himself. I'd put a gun to his head any day if it meant that I'd live a stress free life afterwards.
It's just that, if Rosie found out that I killed her father... I'm not sure what she would think. Would she be scared of me? Or happy that I got rid of her worst nightmare? Or would I be the new nightmare...?
"There's no, like, catch?" I say quietly, processing my thoughts.
"Did I say there was one?"
"No."
"Then there isn't." Zayn says, his lips ending in a straight line. He was intimidating 24/7. Even to me.
"I'll send my best man, Niall out for him. I'll notify you when we have got him." Zayn says, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. I glance at it, only to see disgusting hand writing. "But for now, get out of my office." He says coldly. I nod. The screech of the chair against the floor sent chills down my spine as I stood and began to walk down the Black's dark corridors.
The door opens, and I'm greeted by a warm breeze. Calming, warm breeze. I pull the cuff of my shirt up to check my watch, and it was 4:30. I dialed Papa John's number and ordered a cheese pizza for me to pick up on the way home.
But as I drove to PJ's, so many different questions raised in my head. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white, and I was only thinking about Mr. Brookland. It would only be time that my knuckles would be around his neck, so that all of this can end.
But then, the questions. Like, 'what's Rosie going to think? How do I tell her that he's dead? What do we do afterwards? Will our lives be normal? Or will we still have the cops after us, and not just Mr. Brookland?
But then I realized, the cops won't be after us because we cover up everything. That's what my job was at the business, and I assume Zayn and Niall have all of that under control.
Rosie's POV
I hear three small knocks on the door, and a British accent going, "Hurry up! My arm is going to fall off!" Behind the front door. I laughed as I scurried out of the kitchen and to the front door. As I swing it open, a tall framed and curly-haired boy rushes in with a pizza and pop in one arm, and his briefcase in another.
"Well hello to you too." I mumble jokingly as he drops the box of deliciousness on the dinner table.
"Hey sweetie." Harry says, turning around to face me. His large hands find their place rested on top of my hips, and his eyes look at mine. He sticks his tongue out before gliding it across his lower lip, and biting it after.
