Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89145 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
I wiped at my cheeks again.
My phone dinged with a message next, and I couldn’t help myself. I opened the text.
I can’t believe you stormed off like an unhinged maniac, Alfie. Can you come back here so we can talk about this in a civilized manner? I had no idea this would upset you so much.
Unhinged? He didn’t know the half of it. He’d never seen me unhinged.
At ten PM, I did something I’d never done before. I walked into Mick’s pub by Reading Terminal when I knew full well that my boss would be there with plenty of associates.
It was a loud Irish bar, packed with people and live music, and I was here to renegotiate some work terms.
The way I’d grown up, and where, I had always been aware of the Sons of Munster, the organized crime syndicate that ran our city and parts of Chicago. Two families had joined forces way back when; they’d left Ireland when the famine had been at its worst, and they’d come here. The Murrays and the O’Sheas.
Philly was the O’Shea stronghold, while the majority of the Murrays lived in the Midwest. Smaller factions had operated in other places over the years, mostly temporarily, like in Jersey, Miami, and Boston. Dublin and London were their overseas counterparts.
Ever since I was little, Ma had warned me about them. Don’t befriend them, don’t get too close, don’t argue with them, don’t let them recruit you. Which was funny coming from her. She’d once been involved in the way only low-income women could. As a mistress to a connected fucker.
I’d kept my promise and my distance for a long time, despite that we’d gone to the same church on Sundays as many of the O’Sheas. I’d watched them. I’d convinced myself I hated them…
Then I’d taken a couple college classes after high school, and I’d met Kellan Ford.
We were the same age, kind of; he was technically a year older, only because he was a December baby, and I’d been my mom’s Valentine’s arrival a couple months later. And…I’d been unable to see the harm in befriending Kellan. Like, I’d known from the start that he was full of shit and mobster lies, but he’d also been full of charm, humor, and, occasionally, my dick. At least his mouth—and that was the only way to shut him up. We were equally bossy, cocky, and strictly into older tops. But we’d had time to waste, and a willing hole was a willing hole.
We’d become unlikely buddies, and for some reason, we’d always stayed in touch, even when I’d moved to LA.
These days, while my older top had divorced me, Kellan had married his.
He was blissed the fuck out and living the dream.
He was also my boss and the right-hand man to Finnegan O’Shea, who ran the entire organization.
If Ma knew I’d taken a job with Kellan, she’d flip her lid and smack the crap out of me.
I was being careful, though.
I made my way through the crowd that surrounded the bar on three sides, and I aimed for the booths in the back where Kellan usually hung out.
He’d be shocked to see me.
But fuck it. I didn’t need to keep a low profile for my personal life’s sake anymore. Trust, I’d keep my promise to my mother somewhat; as in, don’t get too close. I wasn’t going to. But another step or two wouldn’t hurt.
The sea of people parted when I was a few feet away, and sure enough—Kellan sat there with six others. I’d only ever met two of them. Red Mikey was here, and so was Max.
I’d met Shannon, too, of course. Kellan’s husband. Also Finnegan’s father and an adviser in the syndicate.
Finnegan was the youngest boss the Sons had ever seen. He was just a year older than me at thirty-one, but he’d already been married for a while, and he had, like, five kids.
Kellan spotted me, and immediately, his eyebrows went up.
I smirked.
“Get the fuck out! What’re you doin’ here, mate?” He grinned and rose to his feet, quick to shake my hand and give my shoulder a squeeze. He leaned in close and spoke in my ear. “If you’re shooting for subtle, this ain’t it.”
I chuckled. “It’s all good. Can I buy you a pint? I’d like to have a word if you have time.”
“Pint’s on me, and I can spare twenty minutes,” he replied. He let out a sharp whistle at one of the guys. “Bring two pints to the table, and then all’a youse can take a break. Scatter.”
They obeyed faster than I’d obeyed my Sunday school teacher, and I’d been terrified of her.
I sat down next to Kellan, and I tried to come up with the right words.
“So this is a new experience,” he said with a grin. “Remember back in the day, like four years ago, when you swore you’d never get involved?”