SO COLD
The wail shattered the stunned silence. It was obtrusive, ear-splitting and full of sorrow. Loud cries of 'he's dead! He's dead!' invited panic and fear to the wrecked house. Cole's hands were on either side of my cheek, trying to grab my attention, and he asked urgently. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"
I was confused and speechless at first, the gunmen had robbed me of my tongue and I frowned, attempting to concentrate on anything other than Art's grief. The Italian had been murdered. My face felt stiff, hard to twist.
I wasn't hurt. I told him.
Cole made a noise of discomfort. Alarmed, I demanded. "Were you shot? Are you bleeding anywhere?" My inquiring gaze wasn't enough, I found myself turning his face, searching for an exit wound on his body. My chest felt tight, like it was being crushed.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just landed awkwardly," he grabbed my hands, eyes closing briefly, intimate and close, breathing deeply, head in the crook of my neck. His relief was obvious and I couldn't help but feel the same way. As quick as a snap of fingers, the moment was over and he was standing, tugging me upright. He had a black semiautomatic gripped tight in his hand. "Stay close."
His body was tensed, shoulders set apart, mouth set in a grim line, and he opened the door leading out to the hallway. Oscar, Giant and a woman with tattooed arms and flaming red hair (Svetlana, if I recalled correctly) were drawing arms. Giant situated himself on the left hand side by the door, Oscar stood by the opposite wall, and Svetlana had Irvin's shotgun, and she crouched by a large potted plant nearby. Cole held out a hand to me, and I halted. Oscar nodded at Giant, and Giant twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open towards him.
Svetlana fired off rapidly, empty shells clinked on the floor, and she gritted her teeth, throwing herself to the side as someone fired back. "It's the Chinese, two men, motorbikes."
There was a shout of what seemed to be orders in Cantonese and then motorbikes roaring to life and a grumble of engines. "They're likely Suiciders," Cole called after the three Musketeers, "be careful. Kill the other, bring one back alive." While the other gunmen sped off in a gleeful haze, Suiciders lingered to pick off any survivors or to lead the opposing gang members on a destructive path to death. They would either be heading towards a warehouse where a bomb would be set off, killing everyone in the nearby vicinity or they would take them to an ambush spot where their employers would fire off bullets into their skulls.
Giant nodded to his cousin. "I'll call you." They left, wheels spinning on the tarmac, engines thunderously loud.
"Get out!" Cole charged into the living room, yelling furiously. "Get out! Cops will be on their way. Stay behind, Irvin. You're going to answer their questions; be clueless and as unhelpful as possible without incriminating yourself. Can you do that?"
"Yeah." He didn't need to act: he was bewildered, his hands were wet with Doriano's blood and his hair was ruffled. There was a blooming bruise on his chin, likely birthed from where he threw himself at the floor.
Art was sobbing over Dorito's lifeless body. Her misery was suffocating. His face was still, neither happy nor sad, mouth parted slightly, a trickle of blood leaking down his chin. He had been shot repeatedly in the chest and his shirt was sodden and torn. The white carpet under him was stained a dark ugly red shade, and forgotten beer dripped onto the floor.
The TV had bullet holes, the windows had shattered and the back of a sofa was ruined. It looked like a warzone.
"Take your drinks with you. Don't leave anything behind. If this looks like a party, we might as well hand ourselves over. Pick up Svetlana's shells from the hallway, by the plant, Jack. Hurry before I beat your fucking ass. Get up," Cole viciously yanked Art by her forearm, "get your fucking shit together," he threw her at James without care to be gentle, "take her away."
"I can't leave him," Art wept, desperate to reach her lover.
I felt sorry for her.
"He's dead!" Cole snarled fiercely, cold hearted, "there's nothing you can do to help him now. You can see him later. There'll be a funeral. Now get the fuck out before the cops arrive."
"I must stay behind," Vyacheslav winced. He was a tall, lean man with a faint white scar running across his head into his hairline. It was a childhood accident. His mother dropped a beer bottle on him. His beard was impressively long, reaching his chest. He was a quiet, thoughtful man and a distant cousin of Svetlana. He spoke carefully, with an almost unnoticeable Russian accent. "I'm bleeding." He had been shot through his shoulder.
"Fuck," Cole cursed in a white-hot rage, sighed in aggravation, "alright, help Irvin. Stick to a simple story. You've both got priors and they know you're linked to me, they're going to attempt to nail a fight on you. Keep insisting it was an attack and don't call me from your phones. I'll be in touch. Come on, Shay."
"Keep safe," I said to Irvin, giving him a quick hug and quickly following Cole. The front yard was almost empty of vehicles, men and women had dispersed from the scene. I sat in the passenger seat of his polished black SUV, and he started up the car as sirens blared in the distance.
He pulled away from the curb, glancing in the rear view mirror as he pressed against the accelerator, speeding up. He surveyed the roads with a suspicious eye, fingers stiff on the wheel with anger and spine straightened with uncertain wariness. He joined the back of a short queue near a set of traffic lights, switched the radio on to a station playing R&B songs and turned the volume low.
I shifted, feeling like the seatbelt was strangling me.
He faced me, "You good?"
"Yeah,"
"Really?"
"No. Seeing Dorito was weird. I felt detached from the scene, like I wasn't actually there. I don't think I'm going to sleep tonight. My mind is filled with fuzzy noise and flashbacks to the guns firing. How about you?" The attack felt like it had went on for hours even though it lasted less than thirty minutes.
"I'm used to it. I'm going to miss the poor fucker, though."
"I don't believe he felt anything, he took so many bullets to the chest. He died instantly."
"Yeah," Cole rubbed his face, made a noise of frustration, "at least he won't be around to see Charlie be killed next Friday. He's been miserable ever since I told him. He had protested at any chance he got. Now Charlie has no-one to back his corner." He thumbed the indicator, and then turned the wheel, speeding up along a stretch of clear road.
"How's it going to happen?"
"He'll be in the shower. It's the only chance we'll get. The guards will take a quick stroll someplace and leave him for two minutes. Someone will come in, slice his throat. It'll be quick. It won't be messy. It'll be written down as an could've-been-prevented error. The guards will get a warning for their carelessness and it'll be over. Charlie won't be a risk any longer. Dead rats can't squeak."
"Why have you waited so long?"
"He's been targeted by the warden and detectives, they've been treating him like a friend. He's been watched very carefully. They want their piggy to talk. He was kept in solitary confinement these past few months and surprisingly, he stayed quiet. The detectives are frustrated and to scare him into talking, they're transferring him to gen pop. That's when it'll happen."
"I'm not his greatest fan. But if he's not talking, will it be necessary to kill him? Why not just leave him be?"
"He's a rapist, he murdered Jess. No one likes a rapist. If he's not jumped for that, he'll be shanked for his connections to me. Another gangbanger will be after him. None of my men inside will talk to him. He has no protection from anyone. Eventually he's going to realise how alone he is and then he'll take any deal the D.A. throws at him. He'll blab about us all."
"Oh." I drew my knees to my chest and stared out at the vast night sky. It was cool and almost empty of clouds. A dark sea-blue. "So many people have died. I wonder who is next."
Cole furrowed his brow, troubled. "You're staying with me."
I was silent at first, lost in my mind's wandering direction and then I said. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are," he said. "You've been attacked twice now by Gui Shèn and his men. Don't argue with me on this. Irvin will be staying, too."
"I think I might go see my uncle, take a break from all of this."
"When?"
"Not sure yet, I'm still deciding."
"Whilst you decide, you'll be under my roof."
"As always, you're overbearing. But fine, I'm going to take the guest room."
"You'll sleep on my bed with me."
"I'd rather stay in a pigsty. It's late. I'm tired. Can we not argue about this? I'm going to sleep in the guest room otherwise I'll take a taxi to a hotel and rent out a room."
"Why are you being so stubborn?" his jaw was clenched, storming gaze flashing over to me.
"We've broken up, I am not with you anymore. Why would I sleep in the same bed as my ex-boyfriend? It makes no sense and you would assume that I'd still want to be with you."
He was quiet for a while and then he rubbed a hand through his stubbly beard, and viewed me with a hooded gaze. On his second glance, I said. "What?"
"Have my child."
I didn't expect those words. Taken by surprise, I exclaimed with barely contained disbelief. "What!?"
"I want you, I'm certain I'm in love with you and I want you to have my child."
***