Don’t Take Anything For Granted

Grant grinned, picturing exactly what he would like to do with the curvy woman in front of him. His eyes fixed on her legs where they extended from the bottom of her woollen coat, he didn’t notice the man next to her turn round.

‘Go. Away.’ The stranger ground out through gritted teeth, a bestial anger in his eyes.

‘Raph, love. Leave him.’ The woman turned, her profile stunning, and raised one pale hand to caress the man’s cheek. The anger vanished in an instant and he turned his back on Grant.

‘Wanker.’ Grant muttered under his breath, turning and walking back the way he had come. He pushed past a big, leather clad man, the hairs on his neck raising at the barely audible growl that came in response.

‘’Ey man.’ Grant stopped and clapped the shoulder in front of him.

‘Grant.’ Max grunted, the air rifle in his hands bucking as it fired. The lead pellet pinged from the target and he turned, a grin on his face. He shoved his hands in his pocket and slouched off, following Grant.

Perry joined them from where he had been loitering at the front of the museum.

‘Some tosser in fancy dress just came out of there.’ Perry said, hooking a thumb towards the museum’s main door. ‘Went down there.’ Another gesture, this time towards a dark alley. ‘You boys up for some fun?’

Grant looked at Max, then at Perry. ‘Course we are P-Dawg.’ He reached round to the small of his back and drew the small blade from his belt. ‘Let’s get ‘im.’ He said, walking into the darkened alley, towards the hunched shape walking away from them.

‘’ey, you. Stop.’ There’s a pause. ‘Are you deaf, motherfucker?’ The shape turned and looked at them, spouting something foreign and unintelligible. ‘Looks like we got us a fucking genius or a tourist. Either ways, boys, we’re in for some fun.’

Grant stepped forwards, the knife in his hand.


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