Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
CIAN
“So what does this have to do with the families?” I ask Ryan.
Ryan Hill is looking to open a new business in Minneapolis, and I have a feeling not all of it is legitimate.
“Right,” he murmurs. “The bar is a front for the gambling ring I have. It’s a safe place to blow off some steam, while the bar launders the money we make from other areas of our income.
We want to give bands a place to play as well.
I have six other bars like this across the country, and a few bands have become well known.
A couple of examples of this are Frozen Hearts and Angelic Demons.
I don’t like to open a new bar without meeting with the families who run the city I’ll be working in. ”
Yep. That’s what I thought.
I’m in no hurry to answer Ryan. The armchair I’m sitting in is perfectly broken in, and Club Forty-Two has incredible service.
My favorite whiskey is beside my hand where the ice is nonexistent, simply because I’m not in the mood for it.
My tastes are curated by what I want and need, and I’m very intolerant to anything that rocks that boat.
I suppose my stubbornness may have been the downfall to my marriage with Nancy, but I did try.
Club Forty-Two is currently owned by my friend Corbin, who is part of the senior mafia families. The owner recently retired, and he wanted the place to continue to be a safe space for the families.
This is where many of our meetings take place, so I appreciate that we don’t have to find another location. I am a creature of comfort and routines, even though the timing of when I go to things has to rotate so it’s harder to find me.
That’s not to say there aren’t people who are here to enjoy a glass of scotch and a cigar that exist outside of the Irish mafia families, but this establishment is known for mafia activity.
It’s no wonder why Ryan Hill sought me out while I was lighting my cigar. Fuck me, I didn’t really want to work tonight. Trouble always seems to find me though.
Speaking of that, Hayes is avidly watching to ensure my safety from somewhere in the building which is why I’m entertaining this conversation at all. He exists well in the shadows until he’s needed.
“So this is solely a bar,” I say quietly. “Outside of bookmaking and laundering, there won’t be anything else that occurs?”
“No, sir. There are times where people cheat…”
“Beat their faces in, I don’t care,” I chuckle darkly, giving Ryan a peek at my ruthlessness. It simply won’t do for him to think I won’t get my hands dirty if he steps over the line of respect. “Keep the police out of your establishment and clean up after yourself. That’s all I ask.”
“Of course,” Ryan says quickly, nodding. “I assume that there’s a tax for working in your city?”
There’s not, but there’s something that’s bothering me about Ryan.
I don’t know for sure what it is, and at the moment, I can’t deny his request based on a feeling.
All I can do is make the best decision with the information that I’m being given right now.
If he or his bar becomes an issue at a later date, we’ll take care of the problem with fire and bullets.
“Yes. What are you offering?” I ask him
“The standard is ten grand,” Ryan says immediately, making me hum under my breath. I’m very much enjoying making the beta sweat.
A man walks past me who was once blonde but whose hair is now streaked with white as he’s distinguishedly aged.
His facial hair is peppered with salt and pepper, and I find myself wondering if it’ll feel rough when my knuckles meet his face.
His blue suit is perfectly tailored to his body, and his body is athletic and trim.
He moves with ease and confidence, as if he expects people to bend to his will.
The way he walks is intriguing to me, as it says that he either has some allies in the room despite his absence, or he’s pretending very well to be well liked. If I didn’t hate him with the fire of a thousand suns, I may acknowledge my cock twitching with interest.
That’s definitely new, yet I tell my dick to shut up as I cross my leg over my knee to hide the growing tightness in my well tailored trousers and enjoy my cigar.
I may as well since the scenery intrigues me.
My eyes follow him as he finds the person he’s looking for, and I struggle to maintain my composure.
That son of a bitch’s name was one of the last words that left Nancy’s mouth before I cut out her tongue.
I no longer needed her weak apologies, insults, and constant contempt for my dick.
My inability to feel attraction for most people has nothing to do with the size of my cock.
People carry their own emotional baggage, needs, and desires.
I don’t care enough to also add the additional stress of sticking my dick in them.
I deal with the weight of people’s problems day in and day out.
I’d rather fist my cock in the shower and come on the shower tiles.
The clean up is easy and it’s less emotionally messy.
At least, this was my preference until recently.
If Aisling sways enough people to help out at the heat spa, where I prefer to stick my dick may not matter.
What does it say about me that my daughter is pimping me out as part of her commitment to community service?
My life is much richer with her in my life, and also very confusing.
My mind pulls away from my adult child as I catch another glimpse of the alpha that I deeply despise. Morgan Teague fucked my dead wife for a year before I found out she had betrayed me. I’ve been wanting to nonchalantly run into him for ages. He’s apparently been out of the country.
Yes, I’ve been keeping tabs on the knucklehead until I could use mine on him.
“I suppose that’s agreeable,” I say to Ryan, my gaze moving back to him. It appears as if I’ve been thinking, when I knew I would take him up on his proposal the entire time.
I’ll forward the cash to Aisling so she can make sure it goes to the place it’ll be best used. She has her fingers in so many pies, I don’t know how she manages it all.
“Thank you,” Ryan says with a wide grin. “Not everyone is as amenable as you’ve been today. We’ll keep our noses as clean as possible.”
“Now, don’t go making promises you can’t keep,” I warn. “No one in this room is clean. I just ask that you don’t flaunt it, yeah?”
“Yes, sir,” he says, sobering. Hayes comes closer from the dark corner where he’s been watching, and gives Ryan the wiring information. My lips twitch as I see that it’s going to Caelin, where he’ll undoubtedly ensure that it gets deposited in Omega’s Haven’s account.
Discretion and mind melding at its finest. I really don’t need the money.
Morgan stands, leaving his smoldering cigar in the ash tray.
His phone is in his hand, and his gaze is apologetic as he gestures to it.
The men around him nod and begin other conversations as he strides toward an exit.
Standing slowly, as if I have all the time in the world, I drain the rest of my drink before returning it to the table.
I’ll have to return to enjoy the rest of my cigar, depending on how this goes.
“Welcome to Minneapolis,” I murmur to Ryan. “Please make sure whoever is running your bar makes an appointment to speak with me.”
“Yes, absolutely,” he says, taking the offered card from Hayes.
Holding my finger up to Hayes, I give Ryan a small smile. Picking up my coat, I pull it on as there’s a nip in the air even for the fall night air. My leather gloves go on as well. No use having my hands cramp while I’m beating the fuck out of someone.
“Then we’ll be in touch. Please excuse me.”
Walking slowly in the direction Morgan exited, I discreetly pull out my brass knuckles from my pocket. At this point in my career, I pay people to kick someone’s ass, but this is intensely personal for me. I’m not going to give up this opportunity to find a little vengeance.
According to Nancy, Morgan knew she was married and didn’t care.
Whether or not he knew she was married to me, is beside the point.
Never touch what another man has already claimed, despite the fact that it was a marriage of convenience.
If I wanted to be in an open relationship, I’d never have gotten married to Nancy.
She was honestly more trouble than she was worth.
Pushing my way out the exit door, my head immediately moves in a swivel to see who is out here. A few men are standing around chatting, and they incline their heads respectively toward me. They shouldn’t be an issue.
Morgan stands a few feet away on the phone, angrily gesturing as he hisses at the person he’s speaking to. Hmm. That’s a shame. It doesn’t seem as if his night is going to get much better than this.
In fact, I detect a steep drop in his luck. Isn’t that a pity?
The brass knuckles fit perfectly once I slide them on, and I flex my hand to get used to the heavy weight.
My lips are pulled into an interested smile as I walk over to Morgan, gazing at him apologetically. I want him unbalanced. Maybe he’ll think I want to bum a smoke, or that I'm incapable of reading the room because it’s obvious that he’s busy. In this instance, the weight of surprise is on my side.
It’s when his annoyed gaze moves toward me that I give him the chance to say something that may interest me. It’ll determine my next move, as I’m working on instinct and anger.
“Fuck off, would ya? I’m on the—”
My fist flies into his face before he can finish, and I kick his phone away from him when it drops to the ground. His hand moves to his face in surprise as it begins to bleed, and I raise my brow in challenge.
“Seriously?” he asks. Hmm, why are all the words emerging from his mouth boring me? It doesn’t matter how enticing his lips are framed by his thin mustache, all I want to do is knock his teeth out.