SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 75.5

SO COLD

The hallway was a pressure cooker on the brink of exploding. Hostile expressions fixed on one another. Tension billowed into the house like a gust of wind through the opened door, feeling like a heatwave of animosity and on-edge nerves. Triggers were pulled, guns aimed, and the glass of bourbon crashed against the hardwood floor. Liquid spilt. Voices ceased. The air shifted: the gangbangers who had been freely drinking had taken up position. Broad-shouldered, heavy set and armed. Hammers shifting back, they moved across the hallway, ready to fire at the slightest twitch of a finger. A single gunman against a house full of cocked guns and trained gangbangers... it didn't look good.

The intruder was camouflaged in black, masked with steady blue eyes and white skin. He watched as each gun was levelled in his direction and he didn't flinch in the slightest. His gun remained steady at the back of Irvin's head.

"Toss the gun. Drop to your knees." Svetlana ordered.

I met Irvin's burning gaze. His hand clutched the keys tightly in a fist, likely leaving indents. My gaze shifted behind the intruder. Light from the hallway gleamed off the front of the Shogun, highlighting the silver bar. The obscurity of the front lawn was ill-boding. The gunman had to be suicidal to come on his own.

"Check the back entrance. Upstairs, Svetlana. Trevor, follow her. Spread out at the windows." Cole barked out. His arm came around my waist and he pulled me behind him. "Kill anything that moves. Starting with..." His hand tightened around his gun in the intruder's direction. A clear clean shot.

Panic burst in my chest. I had a sinking feeling that Cole cared not for Irvin, he would be collateral damage that he'd later, insincerely, apologise for. Before a gun could be fired or an objection voiced, wheels crunched on gravel, the engine being cut soon after.

"That would be reckless." The intruder said calmly in response to the order to kill. Voice soft. Something about him seemed ... off.

The sound of a car door slamming shut was heard. There was a hum of murmurs in the cold night. Footsteps. The physique of the man who stepped to the threshold was average, slightly taller than on TV, he carried himself proudly. Head high, shoulders straight, dressed in a black suit with no tie. His shirt was unbuttoned like he had finished the office for the day and was headed for an evening drink with a woman who wasn't his wife. His face was worn, lines evident, handsome with a sun-kissed tan although he was unmistakably white, wealthy by his mannerism, and with a smile he likely practiced for uncountable hours before his first press conference. It was the mayor. John Eason. "Order your men to stand down, Mr. King. It would be a shame if our first encounter ruined the chances of a second date." Armed masked men stood by his side, guns aimed at Cole and James.

Cole made a noise in the back of his throat, insulting and disdainful, and he raised his gun higher, aiming the semiautomatic straight at the mayor. His expression was hateful and he regarded the mayor with the utmost contempt. Just before he could express his dislike for uninvited guests, a harsh voice with a hint of an accent interrupted. 

"Pointing a gun at my son infuriates me like no other. I must ask you to disarm and move away from him before I become blind with rage and create a massacre that'll be printed on every international newspaper," the thin gold necklace hanging from Cebrián's neck glinted, and the powerfully-built man smiled coldly as he forcefully pressed the muzzle of his gun at the back of the mayor's neck, "I won't ask twice."

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