Page 137 of Player
Yes. Keep talking.
I gasp then cover my mouth as O’Brien raises his gun. “I shoot you in the head and no one would be buying from you.”
“Do it, and you’ll find out how much my husband really does love me.”
This is crazy. Like I’m in the middle of shooting a horror flick, the main characters petty, spiteful weapons dealers. It’s going to translate well on television.
A struggling Mrs. Ogdenhayer is forced inside her car. “This isn’t the
last—” the door slams shut, cutting off her threat.
O’Brien gestures to his men.
Guns are fired but I film through it. Capturing the cold-blooded execution, and the South Africans’ as they fall to the ground.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.
It feels like Señora del Leon’s hacienda blowing up all over again. It feels like the moment that first bomb exploded nearby in Aleppo.
Steady now.
Steady.
The shooting stops and O’Brien gestures to two of his men. “Drive her to the airport and make sure she boards a plane.”
The men climb inside and the cars speed away.
An awkward silence slips into the space. The smell of gun powder mixed with death overwhelms the senses. Everyone seems shell-shocked, except O’Brien.
Aw, feck.
He’s looking right at me. Did I give myself away? Can he see the camera?
I swallow hard as he charges toward me.
My mind goes blank, a surge of adrenaline freezing me in place.
There’s a noise, movement, and then someone steps in front of the crate, blocking my view.
“I’ve got to say,” Finn’s voice cuts through the silence, “You might have a huge, hard dick, Boss. But it’s that tongue of yers that could use a wee bit of softening.”
The warehouse fills with laughter.
“You don’t know how close you come, boyo ...” O’Brien chuckles from somewhere nearby, likely standing on the other side of Finn, “to me skinning you alive for running away like that. Fancy a fighter like you are, scared of a woman like that.”
Finn grunts.
“It wasn’t her that had you hurrying away?”
“No, sir.”
“No, sir. Will you get a load of him now?” Pause. “What was it then?”
“I had urgent business in the jacks.”
The warehouse erupts into more laughter. Even O’Brien’s cackle fills the space.
I relax. Danger avoided. No one’s aware I’m here.
The men go back to the business of moving illegal merchandise. Yet I don’t dare shift positions, not yet, because Finn is still standing there, his back to me.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be on the lookout for packets of those little blue pills. That limp dicked feck must have a crate of them hidden somewhere.”
I blink. Little blue pills ...Viagra?
Is Finn addressing me? Did he learn of the rumor I spread about him?
He stalks off just as the panic sets in.
And I’m left with a choice that’s really no choice at all. Do I stay or do I run?
