“Okay, now what are you doing here?” He looked impatient and nervous.
I shrugged. “Hoping I could talk to the boss.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
I sighed. I didn’t expect them to roll out the red carpet, but I had hoped for a little more courtesy. Then again, I was still alive, so that was pretty good. I knew Davin from way back; he was actually O’Brian’s number two guy. He was a good earner, and although he wasn’t the toughest man in any room, he was always the smartest.
“Tell him I have a business proposition for him.”
Davin shook his head. “Word came down about you, Liam. You’re officially on the blacklist.”
I smirked and took another sip of my drink. The blacklist was a relatively new invention of Colm’s, started when he took over the Mob. It was a list of wanted men, typically men who rebelled against him or were somehow untrustworthy. Men on the list carried a bounty in exchange for killing or capturing them. I briefly wondered how much money Colm valued me at.
It had better be a lot.
“Stop bullshitting me, Davin, and tell O’Brian I need a few minutes.”
“He knows you’re here, and he isn’t interested.” Davin paused and stared at me as I took another sip. “You should leave.”
I sighed, bowing my head. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but I also hadn’t expected O’Brian to turn me away completely. We did have some history, he and I, at least through my father. I was glad he wasn’t murdering me, but I didn’t understand why he was keeping me alive but not talking. With a grunt, I pushed back from the bar and stood up. The two goons immediately stood up with me.
“You sure he won’t change his mind, Davin?”
He shook his head. “Just go, Liam.”
I sighed again and moved fast. I stepped around the guy on my left and darted toward the back. The guy grabbed at my shoulder, half turning me. I reached up and gripped his hand, digging my fingers into his wrist and index finger, and twisted hard. He cried out in pain as his joints locked and flexed, on the verge of breaking. I kicked him in the back of the knee, dropping him to the floor, careful not to let the bones in his hand snap.
The other goon responded, coming at me hard. I shoved the man on his knees forward, releasing his hand and sending him sprawling, as I ducked under a heavy right hook from the second goon. I came up with a fist to the guy’s gut, doubling him over, and then punched him three times in the kidneys. He stumbled forward and dropped onto his knees. I stepped back, readying myself for the second guy to get back to his feet and come at me. Time felt like it had slowed down as adrenaline coursed through my body and my mind began running through the next few moves.
“Enough,” I heard a voice call out.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. My heart was hammering and I was intent on the two men in front of me, but even I was brought up short. I looked over and saw Boss O’Brian standing in the doorway to the back room, staring at me. He gestured for me to follow him.
I grinned over at Davin as the two goons unsteadily got to their feet. He shrugged at me. I looked back at the other two guys.
“Sorry about that, fellas.”
“Fuck you,” the guy I had kidney punched spat.
What a sore loser.
I walked around him and followed Boss O’Brian into the back. He pushed open a doorway that lead into a large, richly furnished office. Pictures of him shaking hands with more than one mayor were hung up on the walls, plus him with other important city officials, including at least two state senators over the years.
O’Brian was in his mid-sixties, about the same age my father would have been. He was round in the middle and balding on the top, and sometimes a soft Irish accent drifted through in his vowels. He wasn’t intimidating to look at, but he was one of the most feared men in the city. He rubbed elbows with politicians and bribed police chiefs on a regular basis, and he had probably committed more crimes than any man alive. If he was ever caught for anything he did, I was sure he would spend years in jail.
“Liam Sullivan, as I live and breathe,” he said, lowering himself into his chair.
I sat down across from him. “Boss O’Brian. I’m glad you’re well.”
He laughed. “Well? I’m a fucking mess, kid. I’m old and I’m fat and Colm is bleeding me dry, and now you show up at my fucking door.”
I laughed and nodded. “I’m sorry I came without notice.”
“Fuck the notice. Just try not to break my bouncers next time.”
I grinned and he laughed.
“What can I do for you, kid?” he asked.
Right down to business, then. Usually we’d sit there, shooting the shit, maybe share stories about my old man, have a drink or two, but not this time. Although he was his usual affable self on the outside, there was something underneath the whole exchange, something ominous. He didn’t need to say anything to let me know that I wasn’t welcome.