We quickly armed ourselves and headed for the front door, miraculously James led us through the open door, the old wood creaking forcing us to a halt. The fluttering dust turned static as the evening amber light bled through it, my heart dropped as we waited for retaliation but only heard the sound of raised voices drifting down the narrow hallway from the back of the house. We continued passing a living room filled with a dangerous supply of empty beer bottles and old stale food strewn across the table and all over the floor along with a pile of Swedish K's.
James nodded us along bringing his gun closer to his body as we went further down the hall. The argument gets louder with every step.
"…you didn't have to shoot him!" one of the men shouted.
"We didn't have a choice," another snapped.
The first returned. "We always had a choice, he was a good guy, if we had just paid him his due, he would have kept his mouth shut. You don't get to stay in the business long if you run your mouth." It was followed by a hum of agreement from another man.
"What's done is done, we don't leave any trail that's always been the rule, and he was a trail."
The men steamed in their anger as we finally reached the door to what looked to be the kitchen, the man spoke again. "You all know what you signed up for when working …" He stopped as we burst through the door.
We kept our guns trained on them. "Drop it." I heard James say as I looked around the room.
David was slumped back against the yellow Formica counter, a hole slithered blood down, reaching to caress his face lovingly, reassuring his tired eyes, looked so sad as he stared endlessly at me. Even his slightly open mouth was trying to say something that would never come, as his blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the linoleum.
The four men stood around him. The faces were bare to see for the first time with what looked to be the leader standing over David's body, his gun still in his hand, smoke curling lazily from the barrel. His shoulders relaxed beneath his dark leather jacket, his gloved finger still resting on the trigger.
The leader's eyes flicked to the three of us in record time. He smiled lightly. "Gentlemen, remarkably quick to find us already."
James Kept his gun level on him "I said drop it."
As Robert slowly started to move around the room, I felt my eyes flick back to David, his state still the same as it was a moment ago, even though I could still remember every detail of it already I still felt so drawn to it.
"Shit," Robert breathed as the leaders flickered to me out of the corner of my eye.
The leader's gun came up in a blur of motion, and as the table was kicked up, James barely had time to shoot before the leader's shot cracked through the air. The bullet sent shards clattering across the floor which sprayed over me as I froze before falling behind the table, just as the other jammed itself into the metal table. James dove for cover behind the kitchen island as another shot tore through the plaster above his head, sending a spray of white dust down onto his shoulder.
Robert fired, sending a spray of blood from a man, spattering it against the fridge as he fell behind the table. He grunted and fired wildly, the shot ricocheting off the stainless steel.
"Move!" the leader barked, dragging the injured man toward the back door, followed by the other men, as he unleaded the clip in the direction of Robert who had dived out the way to me behind the table. I quickly peeked out the side to fire, as more gunfire went overhead, and hit another man in the thigh, who only grunted before getting out the door.
James fired, the sharp clap of gunfire filling the kitchen. The bullet punched through the leader's loose sleeve, looking to hit nothing. The first man out the door returned holding a Tommy gun. James ducked as a spray of bullets slammed into the side of the counter, splinters of wood flying into everything.
"Get back Kid!" Robert shouted dragging behind the table before bullets started to ping off it, covering us in dust from the roof and food from the fridge.
James stayed down as the men were shoved through the back door, their heavy boots pounding against the concrete steps. We scrabbled up but stopped at the door as another spray filled it. As the cooling evening quieted down, we peeked around to see the garage door swaying on its hinges.
Through it, a red Pontiac growled low before revving up. The leader yanked open the door and shoved the injured man and himself into the back. James fired, the bullets sparking off the fender as the driver floored the gas. The tires screeched off the concrete, kicking up a spray of gravel as the car fishtailed onto the street.
Robert skidded to a stop beside James, his gun still raised. He panted as he lowered his gun. "Son of a bitch," Robert muttered.
James watched the taillights disappear around the corner; he kept quiet as his pulse hammered against his ribs. Somewhere down the street, a dog started viciously barking through no one went to stop it or investigate the gunfight. He sighed before holstering his gun.
"And there goes our only lead." He muttered as I stood next to them.
Robert grumbled as he shook his head.
"All right, let's search the house and see if we can find anything."
I started to feel a bit guilty for taking my eyes off the leader and as I walked back to the house, I felt Roberts's eyes bore into the back of my head. We still had work to do so I left the confrontation for later.
I stepped back into the house and was drawn back to David's body. I signed as I balled my fist up. "If those FBI guys had not slowed us down so much, we could have gotten here in time and saved him."
"I know kid." James rubbed the top of my head. "We'll search the place then call the cops and get out of dodge, we were never supposed to be here."
We searched all over the house and only found the guns from the robbery, the masks, and a now trashed house. No documents or anything that could tell us anything about them. The longer we searched the more I felt Roberts eyes burn into me. We finally left the house after calling the cops and drove off, still seeing no one leaving or looking out of their houses.
We stopped a few blocks away before Robert turned over and looked straight at me.
"I am not impressed with you Kid."
"Hey." James went to grab Robert's shoulder, but he battered his hand away.
I squirmed in my seat but made sure to look at Robert, never taking my eyes off him. "I know, I fucked up."
Robert's face turned red. "I mean what the hell were you doing Kid, why would you take your eyes off him? That was the most idiotic thing you could have done. Come on Kid, James keeps saying you're smart and yet you do this dumb …"
That one stung I didn't want to drag James into the problems I caused. "Enough Robert, he gets it."
"No, I don't think does, and you need to stop speaking for him. He can speak for himself."
I sighed as I straightened myself up. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I won't make that kind of mistake again, I'll learn as quickly as I can."
Robert started me down. "Dam straight you will kid, because if you do this kind of crap again then I will demand you get sent off the team. We don't want someone killed because of your mistakes. I don't think you've realized how quickly you need to learn, we don't have the time to fully train you. The Russians are not going to wait for you to get better before they start sending nuclear bombs on us. We are here to stop that, and you need to step up for that."
James grabbed Robert and flipped him back around to face the front, and I felt the sweat fall down my back, no way in hell can I be kicked off this team without contributing something. To both sides, my parents both alive and dead are relying on this. "Hey, you do not get to decide how this team works we improve it, so it doesn't happen again."
Robbert huffed. "Always keep your eye on the target kid, let the corner of your eye look for anything else." The car fell into silence.
"…"
"I recognise the leader." James and Robert looked back to me. "Um, his face was in one of the folders from the FBI. Vince Caruso. He was in prison for armed robbery and was released three years ago. His file said that he had some serious skills, and was ex-military serving in the Korean War before returning home and starting a mercenary criminal group. The FBI has been keeping an eye on him ever since he moved to New York a couple of weeks ago, he met with the Bianchi Crime family, they don't know what they talked about."
Robert dropped his jaw. "You can remember all that when you read that like 50 minutes ago."
James cracked a massive smile, relaxing my shoulders. "Haha, I knew you were a smart kid. You got an address."
I smiled back. "Yep."
"Haha, nice work kid." Robert continued to stare me down as he huffed and the engine roared to life speeding down the road.