❝Morrison is my archenemy and he only dies with my hands wrapped around his neck...❞
Carl John Morrison has never met any man who surpasses Aiden Black. He's a stuck-up prick. Easy on the eye. A lethal weapon.
And Carl has a weakness for him.
A tr...
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Ch. 11: Gangsters don’t cry
Death.
Aiden had witnessed quite a handful of people dying during the war in Iraq but not even once did he consider how he preferred to take his final trip of life. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to say goodbye to this world in the comfort of his bedroom, his favorite continental pillow tightly wrapped around in his arms, quietly and without any sorts of disturbances.
Maybe dying in a hospital cot, with an umpteen number of tubes poking into all unspeakable orifices, surrounded by nurses and doctors hiding their faces behind surgical masks, cold stethoscopes intermittently prodding under his hospital gown to confirm if he was still breathing. And finally the dramatic exit, beeping EKG monitors and defibrillators ready to jolt out that ritual shock, in an often futile effort to bring him back to life.
The concept of death remained a mystery to Aiden and seeing that murderous look in Carl’s eyes, he just knew.
His time was officially up and there was nowhere to run. There’s no way in hell Carl was going to miss his shot. He did have a perfect angle and not to mention a nice distance coverage. For the first time in history, Aiden regretted his lifetime decisions.
When Aiden detected the boisterous ear-shattering sound as the bullet snickered through the air, he saw his very own life flashing upon his eyes. Then again he heard a clattering sound of the metal bullet cap ringing behind him.
The hostile atmosphere which was rapidly growing between them ratcheted as each second sailed, it grew stronger than any Eddy current known to human existence. Aiden watched his nemesis with staggering heavy breaths and for some reason his legs refused to function. He only stood right where he was and stared wide eyed.
“Look what you made me do,” Carl murmured shakily as he let the luger which was now heavy in his hand drop on the floor. “I… shit—Aiden.I was going to kill you!”
“But you didn’t.” Aiden said softly.
Carl was now a quavering mess while his breathing came out in short tatters. When he drew that gun, he’d accepted the responsibility for someone dying. The scary part, he didn’t even care for a second about the violent aspect of being a killer. As soon as his adrenaline kicked up, Carl was more than ready to take Aiden’s life. Then he didn’t.
“Why are you torturing me like this, Aiden?” he asked in a quiet tone.
“The fact that you think I’m the bad guy in this story is highly unnerving.” Aiden’s voice was equally low, though pulsing with anger. “You put a dent in my wall, do you know how much replacing that bullet proof glass is going to cost me?”
