British Exchange Agent

Chapter 16

The bartender swallowed, watching me accusingly. He flinched slightly as I took a small step forward, causing my lips to quirk upwards.

"What's your business here?" He hissed, reaching for another knife. "Who sent you?"

I picked a piece of fluff off my top and dropped it on the ground uncaringly, paying no attention to his aggression.

"I will discuss that when I have received answers of my own."

My gaze drifted around the pub, landing on and memorising every face. The majority of people inside were men, with only one woman at a table.

Most of the men were watching me with disgust, laced with respect. The younger lads eyed me with interest and admiration, following my every move.

The angry bartender stepped out from behind the bar and marched over to me, knife in hand. He stopped a few feet away and glared as I placed a hand on my hip - next to my concealed gun.

"You will leave now - without answers." He spat in his thick accent, pointing the knife at me. I quite liked the Mexican accent; it sounded exotic and beautiful. Hatrov also had a thick accent, whereas Cyrus only had a slight one.

"No. No, I don't think so." I mused, pursing my lips. His nostrils flared in irritation and he threw his knife at me. I caught it just before it hit the centre of my forehead, twirling it around on my fingers.

"Temper." I tutted, shaking my head at him. "You have a good aim." I complemented. My eyes suddenly darted back to his, narrowing. I flung the knife next to his wrist, hitting the edge of the bar top.

"Want to see mine?" I snarled. In less than a second, I whipped the gun out from my shorts and flicked the safety off, holding it to his head.

Time seemed to stand still as everyone in the pub stood frozen in shock, with the bartender's eyes darting to the gun in my hand. He closed his eyes for a second. 

"We will talk." He said quietly. With a flick of his hand he called off the woman and men around me, who had pulled out their own guns. They surrounded me in a circle, pointing their weapons at me in a united form.

They lowered them slowly, but I kept mine up, knowing full well I was a dead woman on my own. His irritated eyes darted back to mine.

"Put the gun down." He snapped, clearly upset about his wounded ego. I narrowed my eyes.

"When I feel like it."

He huffed, annoyed, before walking towards a door. I continued to point my gun towards him as I followed slowly. I shook my head as he gestured for me to enter.

"You first." I stated, watching him carefully. He rolled his eyes and walked in. I shut the door behind me and lowered my gun slightly, eyeing him as he sat down behind the desk.

"So," he started, drumming his fingers on the desk. "You come here, insult me and my customers." He gestured towards the door. "Why?"

I brushed a hand over my hair - a seemingly innocent movement. What he didn't know, was I had skimmed over my recording hair clip, turning it on.

"As I said, I need some information first." I shrugged. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head.

"You tread on a fine line, little girl. What do you want to know?"

"That an interesting name on your sign." I commented, scanning over the room before my eyes rested on his. "What does it mean?"

He narrowed his eyes, his posture suddenly becoming tense. He sat up straight and slammed his hand on the desk.