38. I am not one to be fucking messed with

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Okay so this chapter is going to be mature, but not because of any sex scenes, it's going to be gruesome. I think it is anyway, if it goes the way I've planned - but sometimes, when I'm writing it just doesn't end how I assumed it would.

We will see, but I'm putting this warning just in case, it will be bad but I'm not sure how gruesome it'll be yet.

Enjoy, and please vote and comment. I'm busy with Uni and instead of doing coursework I'm sat here writing this instead... What a great student I am, eh? Enjoy ladies and gents.

Third Person POV

"I'll have a whiskey.", Brett says to the barman, placing down a £10 note on the counter.

"Carling.", Adam adds.

"Carling here too, darling.", Liam sends the blonde lady a small smile, accompanied with a fuckboy wink. Brett ignores it, and just allows himself to take in the details of the room. The bar was empty, it was early on in the day, which meant it would be empty for a while.

He thanked the lady for his whiskey, and downed the entire drink in one. He'd need it.

"Where are the owners, love?", Brett finally asked, setting his glass back down on the countertop.

The blonde woman glances towards a door at the back of the pub, and then back towards Brett, her gaze shifting between the three men, but focusing on Brett mostly - it was obvious that he was the one in charge.

"They're busy.", She finally speaks - and her Russian accent is thick.

"Busy?", Brett replies with a cocked eyebrow.

Liam chuckles. "Planting bombs into peoples cars kind of busy?", he asks the blonde lady.

The blonde barwoman seems taken aback by what Liam had said and shakes her head. "I don't know about the bomb.", She says, her English was very good, but her accent so thick. She spoke beautifully though.

"No?", Brett asks.

She shakes her head, pouring him another whiskey. "On the house.", She says, sending him a flirtatious smile. Brett nods in acknowledgement and downs the drink.

"They here?", Liam asks.

Adam stayed silent, drinking his carling whilst looking around the empty pub. His mind on the fact that Brett had shot Ben dead only yesterday, and here he was now, about to see some more dead bodies.

"Owners don't want company.", She mutters, timidly now.

"We don't care what the owners want, sweetheart. Where the fuck are they?", Liam leans against the counter, looking over the ladies face.

She swallows and nods towards the door at the back of the pub. "In there.", She admits, shaking.

"How many?", Brett asks.

"Only two.", She says.

Brett nods and puts down £40 on the counter. "Take this shift off, yeah?", he raises a brow. The woman glances down at the money, and then back at Brett who was watching her awaiting her decision. She nods her head, takes the money, and leaves.

"You gentleman ready?", Brett turns to face the door, Adam and Liam following his lead.

"Yes, boss.", Liam smirks.

Adam nods.

And then the three of them, in their suits and black trench coats, head towards the back of the pub. Brett was the one to open the door, not bothering to knock. They see two blonde men sitting on a sofa, drinking and smoking.

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