*** NEW AND IMPROVED ***
With her father missing, Shay will do anything to get him back, even if that means teaming up with a cruel gang leader and his band of psychotic men.
CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN.
***WARNING*** OFFENSIVE CON...
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SO COLD
JAMES GLOWERED AT US sourly, he tucked his disapproval into the folds of his white linen pocket square and informed us our clothes were laid on beds in guestrooms of his house. Cole and I arrived super late. The shower lasted longer than either one of us had predicted. And it took some time convincing Cole to realize his suggestion to miss the funeral to get his dick wet wasn't the brightest of ideas.
I changed into a simple, sleeveless black dress that reached my knees and sat on the bed to swap my heavy boots for heels. There was a soft knock on the door, the doorknob twisted and the door swung open, Cole leaned against the doorway in a form-fitting black suit. He was a powerful, suave man and his confidence in his appearance made his ego swell: He knew he looked good. "You ready?" He fastened the clip of a gold watch on his wrist, and watched as I put on silver earrings and brushed my fingers through my hair. It grew very fast which could be seen as both a blessing and a curse: body hair removal products were costly. On the other hand, my hair now reached my collarbones.
"Yeah." I stood up and checked out my reflection one last time before joining him at the door.
He took my hand and tugged me after him. "Where's the gun I gave you at the hotel?"
I lifted up my dress and revealed the black semiautomatic strapped to my thigh. I glanced at him, spotting the bulge above his hip. His suit jacket was buttoned and concealed the holder he wore over his shirt.
"No-one should interrupt the service, it was planned last minute and it's at a private property but should anything happen, I want you to fire first, ask questions later. My men will likely get drunk and they'll bond over stories about Dorito. It'll be their way of mourning. There'll be a handful of us who won't touch any liquor: Irvin, James, Svetlana and Vyacheslav and you. We're going to be responsible for making sure everyone is safe."
"Do you predict an ambush?"
"No," he stopped at the top of the stairs and kissed me gently. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. I don't plan on burying any of my other men at Dorito's funeral. Come on. James' is getting impatient."
"We're half an hour late," James snapped from the hallway, striding to meet us in a navy-blue suit, his beard was trimmed and angry brows were furrowed. "Impatient doesn't even begin to cover it."
"Dead men can wait," Cole slapped James' back playfully. "Isn't that right?"
Something passed between their gazes; James grew irascible and Cole amused. James lashed out. "Your tie is crooked." He addressed me, straightening out Cole's tie with rough hands. "You're supposed to be his–"
"Bitch," Irvin appeared at the front door with a burning cigarette at his mouth, grinning and then grimacing at the evil eye everyone greeted him with. "Sorry. But it's the truth, right? You're his bitch, Shay. Food not cooked? Your fault. Cole shits his pants? Your fault. His tie is crooked? Mother of fucking god, what's wrong with you?"
