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I haven’t any idea where I’m headed, but I just walk. I have to force myself to keep a leisurely pace instead of running. I’ll walk until my lungs ache and feet give out. Anything is better than being around his men or sitting still. What in the Hell has my dad dragged me into?!
CHAPTERFOUR
Liam
The Next Day
It’s only now that I am stepping out of a dry cleaner’s that I feel like I can relax. I’m sure that many men in my position would have some underling care for something as small as laundry, but I’m particular about my appearance. It would be a waste of time to send someone to pick it up, only for there to be remnants of a stain still there that they did not catch.
Michael, who had been waiting outside the shop doors, matches my stride as I walk the shirt to my car. “Your attention to detail knows no bounds, does it?” he teases.
He’s the only one still alive that can talk to me like that. I sniff and adjust the buttons on my suit jacket. “It’s that very quality of mine that is going to lift the Mullens from the shadows,” I remind him.
With narrowed eyes, Michael studies me for a moment before asking, “What is it exactly you have planned?”
Smiling is rare for me these days, but thinking about my plan and how seamlessly it is unfolding… Well, I think it would be enough to put a grin on anyone’s face. “You know you’re like a brother to me, so if there was anyone I was going to tell, it’d be you. For right now, though, it’s between me and God.”
“Somehow, Boss, that feels sacrilegious coming from you,” Michael chuckles.
My smile only grows. “I think it’s considered blasphemy when you bring another god before the Almighty.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Better be careful, Liam. Read somewhere that the punishment for that is death.”
“The world should be so lucky,” I snicker.
I then tilt my head down the road to indicate he should follow me. There are some luxuries in life that money can’t buy, and that includes parking downtown. Even though I was born in Buffalo City, I was raised in the countryside. As soon as I was of age, I was moved to Ireland to learn the business “from the roots up”. It was there that I became acquainted with Michael. We bonded through being the only two Americans in the area, even if at the time our age gap seemed jarring and he only viewed me as a kid.
Despite the decades that removed me from my hometown, I know the place like the back of my hand already. Too many hours to count had been spent memorizing the maps online. All in preparation for a call that never came.
The call of my birthright: to take over the Mullen’s mafia.
“So, is where we are going right now just between you and God?” Michael questions at my side.
My tongue runs over my teeth, loving the taste of the words before they even form. “I’m in the mood to go shopping for something nice. Something shiny and gold… I know just the thing.” I toss him a smirk. “Perhaps I’ll bag myself a new watch.”
The Mullen clan owns one of the luxury jewelry stores downtown. While a good portion of the business is legitimate sales, most of the profit comes from the money laundering that takes place there. Customers of the clan come in and pay absurd markups on certain items to make their payments to the clan appear more legitimate. Because of that aspect of the business, there is always a Mullen captain on sight. Captains are the squad leaders for associates and soldiers that make up the body of the Mullen’s mafia. They answer only to the underboss and the boss. If there’s no captain available, then the shop isn’t open.
The two of us stroll through downtown Buffalo, and I am too amused by the feeling that is overcoming me. I am a king walking about their capitol before being crowned. Well, I am crowned, aren’t I? It’s just that no one is aware of it yet. That does not matter, though. I’ll make sure they know soon enough.
A twinkly chime sounds as I open the store’s door. The room is a megalith of granite and glass, with not a single spot of color in the entire place that isn’t white, gray, or black except for the jewelry in the display cases. A redhead with long legs and a short dress is making a beeline for me, a truesaleswomansmile on her face. “Good afternoon,” she greets with a sultry, light voice. “Might I help you find something?”
She’s glossy, blemish-less, and plastic. The clientele that usually filters in and out of this place must feel like a petting zoo to her—as they surely eat right out of her hand. “I’m looking for a watch,” I inform her. I don’t want to show my cards just yet. Where is the fun in that? Besides, I like the anonymity. It gives me the unique opportunity to see how they operate my business before knowing it’s me.
“You’re in luck,” she purrs, already throwing me a seductive look. “I have a wide selection for you to choose from.”
Michael trails behind as she leads me to a display case. It’s a massive glass box, but it only has ten watches in it. Typical of luxury stores. Having so few items makes them look limited, rare, and exclusive. As she starts rambling off details about the watches, I pan my vision to look for other employees. Just as I thought, a man is standing in the corner of the store, trying to look as though he isn’t sizing me up. He doesn’t know me, but I know him: Damon Doyle, one of the captains. As far as I know, he’s loyal, business-forward, and quiet.
I cut her off as she keeps on about one of the gaudiest watches I’ve ever seen. “Not interested,” I snap. Taking a look down at the case, I decide which I like the best. It’s solid gold with a black face. The metal detail that makes up the face of the watch is such a dark shade of gold it’s barely visible. “That one,” I state, jabbing my finger at the glass with my gloved hand.
She nods, her business-savvy grin still stretching her painted lips wide. She takes it out and gestures for me to give her my wrist. I do, and she secures it for me. Moving my arm back, I turn my wrist about to see how I like the weight before taking a good look at it. It’s nice and will go with most of my clothes. Making a half-turn, I show it to Michael, who nods in approval.
With a single nod, I tell the woman. “I’ll take it.”
“You haven’t asked for the price,” she giggles. “That specific watch is fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I assure her, fidgeting with the watch to ensure I like it.
“Oh, very well then,” she beams. “Will you be paying cash or card?”
