Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) by Peter Carroll Page B

sense at all.
    Dwayne only had one lead to go on - the shopping centre. He decided to stake the place out; maybe, just maybe, the piece of shit would turn up there and he would get his revenge. With no job and no effective parental control to interfere with his plans, he could afford to wait as long as it took.
     
    It took about ten days. Luckily for him, the toilets had a bench outside; sufficiently far away from the entrance to avoid attracting unwanted attention but close enough to afford him a good view of the patrons. It's a tricky balance to strike conducting surveillance outside a public convenience. Staring too intently at the patrons might have provoked either of two unwanted reactions - sexual arousal or violent objection.
    Dwayne almost missed the dude. Returning from buying a burger and coke, sipping through the straw that speared the lid on his enormous paper cup, he caught a glimpse of him as he went in. Even from behind Dwayne knew it was his man. The gait, the build, the get-up. Well, this time it would be Dwayne Clements who held the advantage of surprise and that huge motherfucker with the chewing gum issues was going to regret ever crossing him.
    He dumped the remnants of the food and drink next to the bench, then he and Lamar crossed the concourse with purpose. Dwayne patted the small of his back, checking the gun was still there, even though he could feel the hard metal against his skin. He and Lamar had rehearsed what they were going to to do. Lamar would stand guard while Dwayne went in and capped the guy. Quick, easy, no messing, and then they'd be out of there. Lamar parked his motorbike close to the nearest exit and so, before anyone had time to react, they'd be gone.
    Dwayne pushed at the door, looked up the length of the toilet. One guy using the urinals shook and zipped up. Dwayne gestured to him to get the fuck out of there. The guy was more of a boy and ill-equipped to forcefully object, so he did as he was told. Lamar, a giant of a man, with a string of convictions to his name, was more than capable of deterring any further intrusions.
    Dwayne eased into the toilet, pulling the gun from his waistband as he did so. Sweat trickled down the small of his back, the gun damp, warm to the touch. For all the bravado he'd shown Lamar in the run up to this moment, he'd never even fired a gun, never mind killed anyone with one. This bastard deserved what was coming to him, but it didn't make Dwayne any less nervous.
    He edged along, looking for a stall in use. The third in a row of six was the only one showing red on its lock. Dwayne took a deep breath. He could hear his quarry taking a dump. In normal circumstances, he wouldn't have taken any pleasure in listening to another man crapping. However, it cheered him to think what a humiliating way it was to go -  more humiliating than having your teeth pulled out and being left to look like your granddaddy's best friend.
    Remembering how big the guy was and how easily he'd overpowered Dwayne previously, he decided to err on the side of caution.
    “Alright, motherfucker! It's payback time. Let's see how you like chewing on these!”
    With that, he unloaded the entire clip of ammo through the door of the stall. The noise was deafening, splinters of wood flew dangerously close to his face and by the time the eighth shot left the gun barrel, the door was hanging off its hinges. Dwayne stood, frozen to the spot, as the bloody carnage he'd wreaked was revealed to him. His ears rang, hands trembled uncontrollably. His heart beat so hard it felt like a pendulum banging back and forth between his sternum and spine.
    Outside the door, Lamar kicked into survival mode. Before agreeing to accompany his friend on this mission, he got assurances it would be a quick, clean, efficient kill and they'd be out of there as soon as it was done. Dwayne, the stupid fuck, unloaded the whole clip, making an unholy racket in the process. People passing by stopped and stared at