There was a knock on the door, soft and slow.

“Who the friggin hell is that?” Mike asked dragging himself off the couch he had been slouching on. He opened the door but an inch before it was kicked open the rest of the way by the person on the otherside.

“I make that three mistakes Mikey boy.” taunted the hooded figure pointing a gun at the now whimpering and bemused Mike.

The first shot hit him the upper leg taking him to the floor in a crippled heap. “That was for mistake one, opening the door.” The second shot shattered the opposite leg’s kneecap. “That was for daring to talk to one of Mr D’s girls.”

“What are you talking about” implored Mike wracked with pain, and with blood loss threatening to render him unconscious.

“And this one is for trying to get her into your bed.” The final shot struck him in the forehead sending a shower of blood across everything that was directly behind him. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

It was a well known fact that no-one dare breath the same air as on of Mr D’s girls without paying for it heavily. A mistake Mike would never get the opportunity to learn from.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown


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