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“Awfully proud of that cheap shot, aren’t ya, baby girl?”
“Nothing about me’s cheap.” I winked, mimicking his patronizing gesture from the door and wasting more time than I had to spare.
Something about this fucker left me sidetracked, veering off a course that should have been locked on cruise control.While the slew of expletives flung in our direction were exactly the slap to the face I needed to jerk the steering wheel back on the road.
“What the fuck!” Johnny Boy hissed under his breath, his jacket flung over one shoulder and his jeans already unbuttoned as he made his way towards what he was assuming was a sure thing.
The only thingsureabout tonight was supposed to be the easy cash in my pocket.
I used the momentary distraction to impart a good old-fashioned knee between the legs and quickly dislodged my wrist from pretty boy’s collapsing frame, before returning my attention to my target. But the dilation of Johnny’s eyes and the set of his jaw told me it was too late. My cover had been blown.
“Oh, fuck no.” Mommy Issues threw his hand up in a dismissive wave before pivoting towards the asylum of the open club door. “Not sure what the fuck you are into, but that ain’t my thing,” he grunted with a shuffle in his step that told me he was clamping his thighs together. Attempting to safeguard his family jewels even from afar.
“Fuck!Do you even know how much money you’ve just cost me?” I crossed my arms and glared at the figure currently hunched over a trash can, his hand in the air wordlessly suggesting that I “hold that thought.” Or so I could only assume with the way speaking wasn’t much of an option for 'em at the moment.
Pretty boy slammed his palm down on the metal lid, brandishing a slew of vocabulary colorful enough to make a sailor blush before sucking in a steadying breath.
“What are you? Some kind of hooker or something?” He choked out the insult as tears burned his lash line.
“Do I look like some kind of hooker?” The cocky bastard’s hesitancy as his eyes raked along my silhouette led me to add,“It’s like you want another kick to the balls… Is thatyourthing?”
It didn’t take long for the rest of the club’s security detail to surround me following the little incident in the back alley. I allowed the fuckers to do it, of course. That messed-up part ofme wanted to see what the boys had been up to over the years. If the Mulligans were still as slimy as I remember 'em being. I also may have needed the distraction—the entertainment—to compensate for the wasted time.
I watched my bald, burley, self-imposed warden (who wasn’t nearly as pretty as his counterpart) dial out to the local precinct. And my smile grew as his diminished. I didn’t have to hear the other end of the conversation to know what words were spoken once I’d name-dropped and urged the fucker to:go on ahead and call the fucking cops if his dick was so hard for bacon.
They might as well have told the desk clerk I said hi while they were at it. Officer Gallagher had a list of my favorite aliases memorized by this point. And she hated these Irish fucks almost as much as I did.
Better than their inability to detain my ass was the picture of a younger version of me taped up by the bastard’s head next to the other sons of bitches banned from entering any Mulligan establishment. The one none of the guys on staff seemed to recognize as the chick sitting cross-legged in one of their cushy office chairs.
The big guy slammed the receiver down and grunted through the door. “Mac, get your ass in here!” Suddenly eye contact was off limits as the Vin Diesel wannabe dished out orders to the bouncer still bearing the gait of a man with too much to prove and the sore testicles to match. “Drop her ass out on the sidewalk. And no one would blame ya if ya wanted to look away when she happens to trip during the stroll to her cab.”
“Mac?” I laughed, my eyes reflecting back in the green of his irises. “Way to stick to a stereotype. That’s commitment, I’ll give ya that. Let me guess…” I paused, pointing at each of the other two men glaring at me like I kicked their puppies. “Tank and… Axel. Am I right?”
Vin Diesel sneered while Mr. T (obviously the most cordial of the group) stifled a laugh before correcting, “Rocco.” He pointed first to baldy, then gestured to himself. “And Zeke.”
I snapped my fingers while half a smirk played on my lips. “So close!”
Yanking me up by my forearm,Maclifted me to my feet in a gesture that was ninety percent bravado and ten percent irritation. He wanted to show his buddies that he took my little show at the door real serious but I had my suspicions that he actually liked being bossed around. Probably enjoyed that shit in the bedroom too.
“So what? A honey trap? Is that what this is about?” he urged when the cold night air assaulted my nostrils for the second time in less than twenty minutes.
“That would suggest I’m sweet. Do I seem sweet to you,Mac?” I rolled his name along my tongue before discharging it with a click of the C.
“Connor.”
“Pardon?”
“ConnorMacCullagh,” he clarified.
“So, ConnorMacCullagh,” I echoed. “Do you always share your personal information with complete strangers?”
“Pretty sure everyone’s a stranger until you do, dollface.”
“Touché.” Had me there but that was as close to a win as the bastard was gonna get.
“And you are?”
“Busy… very, very busy,” was all I offered in return as I spun on my heel and disappeared into the comfort of the thick Chicagoan fog well after I should have been kicking it down the street. Couldn’t tell you why I kept the banter going for as long as I did, other than the fucker made it easy. And like I said, shit 'round here had gotten boring.
