Devil in Your Smile

Chapter 2, Where Land Met Sea

HARRY POV

I fucking hate this job. Really, I do. In the movies, being the leader of a criminal organization, a mafia boss, means smoking big cigars while sitting by a pool. It means loyalty, a big family, and friends that have stuck by you since you were all in diapers. In the films, leaders don't have to worry about the little guys, because everyone is scared, and fear makes people fall in line, right? Wrong. So bloody wrong. In actuality, family is a blond Irish spitfuck, who eats all of your food and drinks all of your imported wine, an overly-obsessive comic book fanatic with love for arson, and his boyfriend, a broad shouldered, golden retriever-like man who owns a bookstore of all things. In real life, loyalty doesn't mean a damn thing, which is how I ended up in a van, searching for some low-life drug runner who thought I wasn't paying enough to keep him from going to the cops about the very illegal things I do.

I'm sitting in the passenger seat, while Niall, the little shit, is going on about something I'm sure is unrelated to the task at hand. I can smell his breath, which smells like the grossest combination of Guinness and Doritos, because of course he chooses that to snack on while we're waiting. We're parked down the block from some shitty club, with some very predictable name, which I don't know. As I zone back in, I know Niall probably knows I'm not listening, because he's gradually getting louder. Finally, I turn to him. "Niall, could you please shut the fuck up so I can plan everything out? I couldn't give two fucks about why you chose to not wear briefs today." Niall (thank god) finally backs off, just as Liam, who I'd forgotten was even there, pokes his head in between both seats and says "Oh, you were listening, I was wondering how loud he was gonna get before you said something." Just as he gets through talking, the back doors swing open.

I hear him before I see him. "Here you go boss, dude at the bar called him 'Vinny', I caught him snorting some of his own supply in the bathroom." Zayn says as he throws what I can now identify as a Vinny shaped lump, into the van. "He's out for now, he tried to run and I got a bit impatient" Zayn says as he slams the rear doors with a huff. I turn to Niall, who's looking down at his phone, and say "Take him to 17BLACK and make sure he gets comfortable with the basement. And for fucks sakes Niall, remember to actually lock this one up, please?" I open the door, and wait for Zayn and Liam to step out of the van, too. When we're all standing on the sidewalk, and Niall has driven away, I say "Alright, we need to stop by Nicks and get the money he owes for the month, last time he-" before I can finish my sentence, I hear what sounds like a muffled yell.

I follow the sound, which has quieted down, with both Liam and Zayn walking behind me. As I turn into the alleyway, I don't see anything at first, until Liam whispers "There's people behind that dumpster." Zayn responds with "They're probably fucking, H, we wouldn't wanna interrupt them." He's probably right, I realize, until I hear what is definitely a muffled scream, not a moan. I walk closer and realize there's a man and he's covering the mouth of what looks like a small woman with short hair, maybe even a teenager, shushing her. From what I can see, the person under the man looks slightly panicked, with limited movement. In a split second, I've got my gun out, and aimed towards the man's head. Without being noticed, I don't even blink when I press the trigger.

LOUIS POV

I take a second to lay there, with a now dead Jordan laying on top of me, and weigh out my options. It's probably an officer, though it's very unlikely, due to the fact that they didn't even try to get this heavy fuck off of me before he'd shot him. It could be a civilian, though I know it's also unlikely, because most people don't just walk around with guns, and they definitely don't shoot to kill. Third possibility, another assassin that's after me, or a thug. Either way I might have to go from free to fighting in the next ten seconds. I take my chances, giving a fake sniffle, slowly reaching down to take my knife out of its sleeve while this poor bastard's body gives some sort of cover, and turn my head to look at the person who's probably deemed themselves the saver of my life. I look up, expecting to find a middle aged cop, or maybe a Jeffery Dahmer type of man, but what I find is unexpectedly different.