A single bullet // M.C ✔️

06

Darling, a common word, a word saved for affection between two people. It isn't a word that should be haunting my mind, but it is. And being said in a dark Australian accent. I couldn't even focus on my tv show that was now aimlessly playing on the tv craving my attention.

And the gang, it shouldn't be bothering me as much as it is that he said they could be a lot closer than I think. What did he mean by that? I'll never know, and I don't want to know. Heck, it could mean my neighbours are in the gang, and sweet little Suzy down the hall opposite the café I go to daily. Even Margaret, the sweet old lady who runs the café.

"You've been staring at that cup of coffee for the last five minutes, Nicky. What's on your mind?" Kensie looked up at me from her iPad, placing her pen down, giving me her full attention, I never asked for.

"So fucking much, Kensie." I admitted, knowing there's no point in lying. Girl knows me too well. "They framed me for killing. They were in the house." I croaked out, shaking my head. "They got in without you knowing." It's another thing that had been running around my mind.

They were in the house. They had somehow snuck in at 2 a.m. and put blood everywhere, and god knows whose blood because it sure as hell weren't mine, and said I was killed.

"Nic, you have to stop doing these articles. This was only article two." Ain't that the truth?

"I can't just stop, Kensie. This is my job. It's the same as you can't stop a drawing if someone wants something horrid and you've been paid. I get paid to do this."

"My life isn't threatened though, is it?" Fair point there.

"I can't talk about this anymore," I shook my head, standing up. "I'm going to go get a coffee."

"You have a coffee in front of you," Kensie spoke in disbelief, pointing at the hardly drunk, freshly brewed coffee I did earlier.

"It's gone off." I shrugged, grabbing my black leather jacket and sliding it up my arms to help me hide from the harsh breeze blowing around the buildings outside.

"You're mental. Be safe." Rosy corners of my mouth turned upwards as I gave her a soft smile, opening the door and leaving the building, heading towards Margaret's café.

Fresh bread and cookies hit my nose as I pushed open the small glass door. A tiny ding sounded and bounced off the four walls.

"If it isn't my favourite customer, Nicky." Margaret came from behind the counter with her arms opened wide, embracing me as I stepped into them. Yeah, this is what was needed.

"Margaret," I smiled softly, "the usual, please."

"You don't even have to ask, darling, it's already brewing and cooking." There it is again, darling. "You okay, sweetheart? You've gone a bit pale." Old, frail hands gently touched my cheeks and forehead, making me nod and gently hold her wrists.

"I'm fine, Margaret."

"Grandma, can I have these cookies? Oh." A voice distracted me from adding anymore to my sentence as I froze slightly, hearing a familiar Australian accent. I turned and locked eyes with a male, slightly smaller than last night's, this morning's even, male, making me let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Oh, Calum, darling, I didn't think you were coming today." Margaret turned and faced him, wiping her hands on her pastel apron she always wears. "You can have one, oh, and take three with you for those friends of yours. Hardly ever see them anymore, but I know they still love my cookies."

"Everyone loves your cookies, Grandma." The male, who I now know as Calum, never let his gaze slip from me as he collected four chocolate chip cookies, wrapping them up in a small box next to him. "I'm sorry, I can't stay, meeting up with the boys. Just wanted to check you're okay." 

For some reason, I felt like the end of that sentence was aimed towards me, regardless of the fact I don't know this man. Must have been the fact his gaze still hadn't left me.

"Oh Calum, I'm always fine. There's never any threat towards me unless someone gets a bad cookie, which you know hardly ever happens now. Run along." There was a different tone in Margaret's voice that, in passing, you wouldn't hear, but since I know her well, I heard it.

It was a sharp, demanding tone, something she never does or sounds like.

"I'll message you later, Grandma. Mom wants you to pop over at some point. Mali has news." Finally, his eyes shifted over to her, making me less tense. What is with the males the last few days?

"I'll message her with a date and time. I think I'm free the weekend. Now, off you pop. Poor lady is nervous with you here."

"Margaret!" I couldn't believe what I had heard. How could she tell this stranger that? It was the truth, though.

"I can tell Gran. I'll see you the weekend." His gaze shot back over to me as I watched them look me up and down as if checking me out. What a creep.

"Take a picture. It lasts longer." Curse me and my darn mouth. His eyes widened as Margaret covered her mouth, letting out a small chuckle.

"He wasn't wrong. You do have a mouth on you."

"Oh, fuck no. Who's talking about me to you?" I couldn't believe my ears. Did I hear Calum right? I better not have.

"None of your business." He snapped, changing his gaze to a glare. "He wasn't wrong when he said you were annoying too."

"Oh, that's it." I pushed the sleeves of my leather jacket up, taking a step towards this man twice the size of me. Before Margaret grabbed my arm, pulling me back. The sleeves fell back where they belonged.

"That's enough, you two. God, you would think you're related or something. Calum, go and meet your friends." Without a single word, just one forceful nod, he left.

What I didn't notice, however, was the gun in his waistband or the fact that his hand shot to it when I stepped closer to him.

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