the fuck do you want, Mulligan?”
So, O’Shaughnessy could speak, after all.
Jack didn’t turn. “You should know why I’m here, Trevor.”
“I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out and then leave?”
“Such hospitality,” Jack drawled sarcastically. “Careful, or I might think I’m not wanted around here.”
Trevor put his glass down with a thump. “Get to the point. I don’t have time for you or your games.”
Spinning, Jack hurled his beer glass at the mirror behind the bar. The mirror exploded in an unholy crash, shards raining down to the floor along with discarded beer. O’Shaughnessy stiffened and chairs scraped behind them.
Jack leaned in and kept his voice low. “Have time for me fucking now?”
A muscle clenched in O’Shaughnessy’s jaw but he didn’t move.
“Nothing to say?” Jack taunted. “Fine. I’ll speak enough for both of us.” He straightened and pulled on his cuffs, smoothed his vest. Style mattered in situations such as this.
“I know you are responsible for what happened to my policy shop last night. Whether it was under orders from you or some of your men gone rogue, I don’t care. I expect you to make restitution. I want every dollar, every penny stolen from me returned by the end of the week.”
“That’s absurd. You have no proof that I or any of my men are responsible.”
“I don’t need proof. This isn’t a court of law. I am the one deciding fates in these parts.”
“Maybe word’s gettin’ out that you’re slipping, Mulligan. You cannot blame me for everything that goes wrong.”
Slipping? Burying his fury, Jack smirked at the younger man. “I cut my teeth on bastards like you before I had hair on my balls. I took them down and I’ll be happy to take you down, too.”
“We’ve stayed to our neighborhood. Haven’t bothered your businesses. You have no right to come in here and threaten me.”
“Are you calling me a liar? Because there are men trailing my dancers and my policy shops are being robbed. No one other than you would even dare.”
“You have a lot of enemies, Mulligan. More than you can imagine.”
Did O’Shaughnessy think this was new information? “Comes with being at the top, which you’d be wise to remember.” The other man said nothing, merely stared at Jack with burning resentment. Jack slapped a one-hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “For the damage,” he told the bartender.
“We don’t need your money,” O’Shaughnessy snapped.
“Apparently you do, or else you wouldn’t be robbing my policy shops. One week, Trevor. Every penny. And stop following my dancers.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll unleash hell on you and anyone loyal to you.” It had been a long time since someone had challenged Jack like this. He’d missed it, actually. As if they were old friends, Jack clapped O’Shaughnessy on the shoulder. “Though part of me hopes you won’t show. I haven’t completely annihilated a man in a while.”
“A week or two, at least,” Rye put in.
Jack laughed and started for the door. “Sorry to interrupt your night, fellows,” he told the crowd. “Next round’s on me.”
Silence trailed them out of the saloon and onto the street. Jack began whistling as they started for the carriage. “That went well.”
“He reacted exactly as you said he would,” Cooper noted.
“It’s what I would have done in his shoes.”
“So what do you think he’ll do next?”
“Repay the money and plot my imminent demise.” Again, Jack would have done the same in similar circumstances.
Cooper held open the carriage door. “I didn’t expect you to part with a hundred dollars.”
“Counterfeit.” Jack had access to quite a lot of fake money, thanks to a man he’d met a few years back. One who owed him a favor, naturally. “O’Shaughnessy tries to use it and he’ll have the Secret Service at his door.”
Rye and Cooper both chuckled. “You are devious, Mulligan.”
“Goddamn right I am. Only way to succeed in this city.”
Hurrying down Rivington Street, Justine dodged a group of children playing ball. The Lower East Side was comprised of many groups, mostly Eastern Europeans from Germany, Poland and Russia. It was a neighborhood always changing, growing and stretching upward to accommodate those who took up residence here. A synagogue was under construction across the street, while a German newspaper was opening down the block. Justine loved watching the transition as the immigrants made this city more vibrant, more diverse.
Moreover, this particular neighborhood wasn’t directly associated with Mulligan. Chances of running into him here were slim.
Was she avoiding him? Absolutely.
Three days had passed since she’d foolishly gone to the athletic club to see him.