Gunrunners // A Harry Styles AU

3. Give Her A Reason

Three hours later and we're still sitting at the bar of Soho Hideout, knocking back a seemingly endless line of drinks from the bad influence that Harry and Eleanor are on me. Both are too encouraging for my own good, constantly suggesting random cocktails for me to try and get Nick to make as if I were a mixologist in a previous life. Sure, I'd worked in a small pub through university to make ends meet, so I had some knowledge...

"Bloody Mary!" Harry shouts from my left once our mojitos are finished.

"You're not even having your own, you're just stealing sips of mine!" I argue, a scowl on my face now that I'm unapologetically drunk. That's the problem with cocktails - whereas I'd probably only be a bit tipsy by this time on a steady flow of vodka and coke. But no, I'm fucked and flirting without an ounce of shame with a pretty man who's shown me too much interest for my own good.

"I have to drive - I'm being cautious!" He argues back, but he's clearly enjoying my new attitude since he's smirking.

His smirk has me wondering what his mouth would do between my legs. Oh, wow... "I call bullshit." I scoff, turning back to Nick who's waiting for my instruction with a smile. Hopefully this will distract me from my own crude thoughts. "Tomato juice, Worcester sauce, vodka, lemon juice, and something spicy like Tabasco."

"Tabasco?" Harry repeats, looking to me with a grimace that screams he's not keen. "Nah, I think I'll skip this one."

"Pussy." I mutter, which sparks a barking laugh from Eleanor sitting on my right. "You've had a fucking bullet in your shoulder and you're afraid of some Tabasco?"

Before Harry even has the chance to respond, the sound of the front door being pushed open and slammed against the wall interrupts us from any further conversation.

"You're fucking dead, Styles!"

Harry is up out of his seat in an instant, any sign of humour or relaxation vanished from his demeanour. "What the fuck are you do-,"

"You went to the fucking pigs!"

Reluctantly, I turn my head to see the commotion, and find four men I don't recognise all stood by the door. They all wear black, and they all look ready for a fight. It sends my heart hammering. I notice that Liam and the other of Harry's boys have stood up from where they were still sitting in their booth, while Mitch is sitting watching from the table with Sarah. I feel Eleanor take my hand, and that's what makes me realise that these men are not on Harry's side.

"What the fuck are you on about, why would I go-,"

One of the men steps forward. He's tall, but he doesn't have much over Harry. His skin is dark and his hair is trimmed to a buzz cut. He wears all black, from the t-shirt on his torso to the boots on his feet. I spot a gold chain around his neck, a big one that's no doubt worth a pretty penny, and when his mouth opens I notice a gold cap on one of his incisors.

"So if you didn't tell the police, why the fuck were two of my boys held up at the pig pen all day for something about what happened last Friday?"

Immediately it clicks that he's talking about the bullet I retrieved from Harry's shoulder and the one taken out of Mitch's thigh. I'd been told they were from the same gun, clearly the police are thinking it's one of this lot. Maybe they're the Morden lot that Sarah mentioned earlier in the week.

"Also," He continues, after catching a glimpse of Mitch in the corner, "he looks pretty good for a Yank who got beaten to a pulp a week ago."

"Oh, so you thought I'd just let him die?!" Harry retorts, folding his arms. "He wouldn't have made it if I didn't do something, and unlike you, Sparky, m'not one to just let my boys go."