As another busy Friday night came to a close, Gage dragged himself up to his office, dead on his feet. He’d broken up five fights tonight, tossed four troublemakers out on their asses, called cabs for half a dozen drunk patrons, and to top it all off, stumbled on a trio of high punks who claimed to have bought the drugs from Sin. Gage and his men still hadn’t found the person selling E in the club. Whoever it was had slowed down for a while, but evidently he was back in business.
Exhausted, Gage quickly signed off on his bouncers’ shift logs, then wandered down the hall toward Reed’s office, wishing like hell he was seeing Skyler tonight. She’d wanted him to come by after work, but he’d insisted that she deserved to go to bed at a reasonable time for a change. They were able to spend time together during the day and on weeknights when the club closed at eleven, but he didn’t leave Sin before 3:00 a.m. on the weekends, and he felt bad making her wait up for him.
He knew he’d feel even worse come September—Skyler would be busier then, starting her practicum and seeing patients under the supervision of a licensed psychologist. He’d already vowed not to let his crazy hours affect her ability to work, even if it meant not seeing her as often.
Gage popped his head in the doorway and found Reed at his desk. Still an odd sight, even though he’d had two years to get used to it. Reed was a man of action, so office work seemed completely unsuited for the guy. He tended bar on occasion, but AJ was the one who worked the bar on a nightly basis, while Reed took care of the business end of things.
“I’m heading out,” Gage told his partner. “Everything good here?”
Reed glanced up from a mountain of paperwork. “I’m good. Just double-checking these numbers, and then Jerry and I are going to look through some of the old security tapes. We’re hoping we might catch our pesky E pusher on tape.”
“Let me know if you find anything.”
“Will do. ’Night, bro.”
“’Night.”
Gage left the club through the staff door, rummaging in his pocket as he walked. He wasn’t using his e-cig nearly as often anymore, but the craving for nicotine still called to him. He’d been smoking since he was fifteen—worst frickin’ mistake of his life—and he was longing for the day when that edgy I-need-a-smoke feeling finally left him for good.
He’d just pulled out the e-cigarette when he heard the footsteps.
Gage’s spine went ramrod straight as the shadowy group slunk into the alley. He narrowed his eyes. Eight or so men, and he recognized the ones in front.
Paddy McDougal and Monte O’Brien, two of Mitch’s henchman.
“Paddy.” Gage spoke in a calm tone. “Monte. What can I do for you guys?”
The wall of thugs formed a menacing semicircle before him. No visible weapons on any of them, which wasn’t surprising. Most of the Irish boys in Southie didn’t need guns or knives—their fists were destructive enough.
Drawing an even breath, Gage did a quick assessment of the situation. He was outnumbered eight to one. If they made a move, he could take out at least half of them, maaaaaybe all if he got lucky. But he sincerely doubted they’d allow that. He knew the way these boys fought—hell, he’d sparred with Paddy hundreds of times growing up. O’Donnell’s men would fight as a group, one lethal force working together with one goal in mind.
“Mitch has a message for you.” Paddy’s Irish brogue was soft and deadly. And total bullshit, because Gage knew for a fact that the guy’s parents didn’t have accents—they’d both been born in Boston, for chrissake.
“Yeah? What’s he got to say?” Gage readjusted his stance. He pressed his hands to his sides, letting the cigarette drop into his pocket.
“He wants you to reconsider your thoughts about the tourney.”
“I see.” He cocked his head. “’Fraid I can’t do that. Mitch knows where I stand.”
“That’s what he figured you’d say.” Paddy took an intimidating step forward. Cracked his knuckles, then smiled. “That’s where the second part of the message comes in. Mitch is hoping that a couple visits like this might help you change your mind.”
Monte, who’d walked to school with Gage every day when they were kids, offered a repentant look. “Nothing personal, man.”
Gage exhaled in resignation. “All right. Let’s get to it then.”