Honored_ An Alpha Mob Romance(31)

At least her friend seemed nice enough. Chelsea had agreed to take on Petey, though I wasn’t sure she bought my story about taking Ellie on a spontaneous vacation. I didn’t blame her; it was pure and unfiltered bullshit, and she must have known it, but she reluctantly agreed. I didn’t let Ellie talk to her, mainly because I didn’t trust cellphones anywhere near the safe house, even if it was a burner paid for in cash. But still, at least that problem seemed to be solved for the time being.

I made a left, pulling onto Passyunk Ave, and continued south. I was crossing into the territory that pushed up against my own southern borders. It was one of the largest turfs in the entire city, nearly twice the size of my own, and that was saying a lot. The man who controlled it, Boss O’Brian, was an old friend of my father’s and one of the biggest of Colm’s rivals. I didn’t know what he had heard about Ellie, but if I was going to make anything happen, I needed to try to get him on my side.

I parked my car, killed the engine, and took a deep breath. It was very possible that I was walking into a trap. It was very possible that Colm had gotten to O’Brian already, maybe offered him a territory bump or some cash in return for killing me. Just because the man was a friend of my father’s didn’t mean he was going to automatically help and protect me. I glanced at the gun sitting on the seat next to me and sighed. I opened the glove box and shoved it in there, making sure the safety was on. I couldn’t risk going in there armed.

The evening was cool as I stepped out of my car and began walking toward O’Brian’s pub. Most of the bosses ran at least a few businesses on their territory. It was an easy way to launder money and to maintain a front. When the drug cash came in, you just slipped it into the revenue stream of your businesses and fudged your books a bit to make it all look legit. The Mob had been doing it for many, many years, and our system had been more or less perfected.

More than that, though, we needed to appear like legitimate businessmen, even if everyone in the city knew that was bullshit. Life with the Right People was all about appearance. You had to maintain a tough front, could never look weak, or else people would take advantage of you. Success was all about overtaking and pushing out the weak, and although it was brutal and difficult, it was the way of life many of us had chosen.

Besides all that, it was nice to have a home base. Somewhere you could call your own. My place happened to be a working business in its own right, but still. O’Brian’s was one of the oldest spots in the whole city, passed down from his father’s father. It was practically a historic site.

I pushed open the old wood door and took in the dim room. Immediately, heads snapped in my direction, and I noticed a man or two looked surprised. They must have recognized me, though I couldn’t place them. The bartender, Davin, gave me one glance and immediately walked into the back room, not bothering to hide his movements.

Smirking, I sat down at the bar. I had to admit, I loved making an entrance, even if it meant that I was about to get a bullet in the back of my head. It felt nice to get a bunch of tough guys riled up. It was the sort of shit I lived for. Not long after sitting, two big guys sat down on either side of me, obviously O’Brian’s muscle.

“Hey there, boys,” I said.

Neither of them answered.

“Not talkative tonight?”

I looked at the big guy to my right and grinned. He stared back with dead, lifeless eyes. He was a terrifying bastard, I had to give him that, though I suspected he was more bark than bite. The guys up front tended to be that way; you kept your real scary boys in the back, in case you really needed them. Most drunk idiots were kept under control by the threat of violence. It was the men who didn’t mind violence that you needed to worry about.

“Well, at least buy me a drink,” I said to the guy. “I mean, if you’re going to be sitting so close.”

He didn’t react.

“Tough crowd,” I muttered, looking away.

Davin reappeared from the back and walked directly over to me. I could sense more than a few eyes glued to me. I guessed more than a few guns were, too, and I was careful not to make any sudden or threatening moves. I had to appear calm and in control, otherwise I’d risk some idiot with a revolver getting nervous and shooting the place up.

“Hey, Liam, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Whisky, no ice,” I said.

He stared at me for a second, and then he shrugged and started to make my drink. He placed the glass in front of me, half full with my favorite blend. I picked it up and sipped it, smiling.

“That’s what I needed,” I said.