Chapter Two

If I had to say when the worst time to be involved in a mob was, I would have to say when two mob bosses are having a lover's quarrel. One boss, controlling one racial population and another boss controlling another racial population in the same city do not make for good situations. Most of the time, they can stay within the agreed upon bounds but once those bounds get crossed by some yuppie new guy that doesn't know what he's doing, things get real ugly real fast. It's like having your vaguely distant cousin walk in on you with your pants around your ankles in the bathroom; there's a tense moment where you don't know what the other is thinking or how the situation is going to play out, then you snap to it, pull up your pants and while the relationship is rocky for a while, things eventually get smoothed over.

Unfortunately, that's the situation that we all found ourselves in. Chicago had plenty of street gangs of all races and religions, but only two mob families controlled the city: the Irish, ruled by Killian, and the Russians, ruled by Karkovich. Karkovich had three daughters that as far as I knew, had no idea the kind of life their father led. Two were still in high school; the oldest was in her sophomore year at the university. The same night that Will, Mikey, and Ray introduced Liam to the bar scene, Karkovich's oldest daughter was killed in a hit and run on her way to her apartment. It was discovered by Karkovich (the police hadn't caught up with the investigation yet) that the offending driver was Irish and one of Killian's merry men.

This was the moment in the bathroom were the door has swung open and neither side knew what was coming next. It could be that Karkovich demanded that Killian hand over the offender, or the offender mysteriously disappeared, or there could be an all out blood bath as Karkovich works out his grief over his daughter. No matter which situation played out, I was on edge, watching my back for anything that might go boo.

A few days after the incident, I was closing up shop with Big Dog. We got the money counted and stashed in the safe, the bar clean, the floor swept, the dishes washed. Stepping out into the chilly night, Big Dog waited as I locked the door and turned to leave. The wind was frigid so I dug my hands into my pockets and buried my nose in my scarf.

"Do you need a ride?" Big Dog asked. He was built like a tank and even in this weather only saw fit to wear a light jacket. The big guy didn't even shiver. He was unaffected by chill.

"I'll be ok," I replied, even as I clutched the pepper spray in my pocket. "It's only a few blocks and anyway, it's not the same direction as your place. I don't want to put you out."

Big Dog didn't look convinced, but he didn't question it. "Be careful," He said as he slid into his car and took off down the road.

I set off for home, keeping my head down and walking at a brisk pace to stave off the cold. I had only gotten a block away when a car came screeching down the street, its mean headlights trained on me. My first thought was shit; Karkovich was going to get revenge by running down on of Killian's womenfolk. That's how the game is played. My next thought was get the heck out of the way. Just as I got ready to spring away from the car, I was tackled to the ground. I landed hard on my shoulder and would have smacked the sidewalk with my head but a hand cradled my head, cushioning the blow. The car whizzed on by, around the corner and out of site.

My rescuer and I laid there, breathing heavy for a few beats before my rescuer shifted. He was right on top of me, chest to chest. He brushed my hair out of my face and concerned eyes met mine. It was Liam.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his gaze traveling over my face and his hand still stroking back my hair.

He was so close. I could feel the heat from his body all the way down to my toes. I could only recall one time I had ever been so close to a man and it had been a long time. My heart was still racing but I couldn't be sure it was from what just happened or the fact that I had an attractive man lying on top of me.

"Um," I replied stupidly. Mental eye roll. I shouldn't feel stupid; I shouldn't feel anything toward this guy. He was part of Killian's crew which put him in the definite do-not-touch zone. Of course, he did just save my life. And he did seem different than all the others. "I-I think so."

Liam pushed himself up and crouched beside me, helping me to sit up. As I pushed up, pain shot through my shoulder. Gasping, I almost fell back down, but Liam caught me. I leaned into him so that my head was resting on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me.

"What's wrong? Where does it hurt?" He asked, his gaze traveling up and down my body in search of a wound.

"My shoulder," I took deep breaths to fight back the pain. "I landed pretty hard on it."

Liam almost looked guilty as we tried standing a second time, "Sorry."

"Don't be," I tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was more of a grimace. "You just saved my life. I think I can handle a little bruise over death. My apartment is just down the street, we can get a look at the damage there."

With a smile, Liam put an arm around my waist and we began the trek to my apartment, keeping a wary eye out for any more enraged Russian drivers. My apartment building was a stoic, sturdy building that looked a little rough around the edges with its battered entry way and rusted rain gutters. The bricks were dirty and depressing, but despite its lack of appeal, it had top of the line security provided by none other than my favorite person, Hugh Killian. After I had accepted the job three years ago, he had me move into this building so he could keep an eye on me. Aside from being so close to his base of operations, it housed a good portion of his merry men and women.

Inside, the building was well maintained and fully updated. I led Liam down the hall to the elevator, which given my current injured status seemed like a better option than my usual hike up the stairs. I was currently the only occupant on the sixth floor. My neighbor across the hall had recently been caught skimming from the boss. The next day, word got around that he was swimming with the fishes and his apartment had promptly been cleaned out.

As we rode the elevator up, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, keeping my breathing slow and steady as the pain continued to radiate from my shoulder. I could feel Liam beside me; he hadn't left my side the whole time and kept a hand at my back as if to support me.

"Are you ok?" His voice was filled with concern and almost panic so I forced my eyes open and looked over at him. He was a lot closer than I thought he was; only a few inches separated us. I was momentarily speechless as I gazed up at his clear blue eyes so focused on me and my well being.

I tried to keep my eyes from watering, to put on a brave face for Killian's man, but those blue eyes seemed to strip me down and peer straight into my soul. Feeling the tears well up, I quickly turned away and muttered an "I'm fine." Thankfully, the elevator had reached my floor and the doors opened. I wasted no time in getting out and hustling to my door, though Liam stayed right beside me the whole time.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I unlocked the door and turned on the lights. My apartment had an open floor plan with the front door opening up to a small living room/dining room with the kitchen area further back. A short hallway led to the bathroom, a spare bedroom, and my bedroom. Even though I kept the apartment clean, art supplies and finished projects were clustered in every available space. I used the dining area as my work space so where a table should be, a large easel and half finished painting stood along with a tray of paints and a stool. Unused canvas leaned against the walls and finished paintings were propped alongside those. There were sculptures set to one side, sketches strewn over the coffee table along with photographs that I had recently taken and developed.

Liam took a moment to take it all in, "All of these are yours?"

I nodded and tossed my keys into a little bowl on a table beside the door. He swept one last appreciative glance around the room before turning his attention back to me, "Let's check out that shoulder."

Even though I was the one that said we should come to my apartment to assess the injury, now that he was here, one of Killian's men, in my apartment, I wasn't so sure. What if this was all some trick concocted by Killian to spy on me, see if my loyalties were still in line? What if Liam was only trying to score so he could brag to his new buddies that he had done what they couldn't? I stood there, battling with myself, biting my lip trying to decide what Liam was trying to get out of this. Liam cocked an eyebrow when I didn't respond and gently laid a hand on my good arm, guiding me to the couch.

"It's ok, I just want to make sure you're ok. If it's hurting this bad, you might have broken or dislocated it," He sounded sincere and the pain seemed to be worse, so I eased my coat off, wincing as I did, and sat on the couch at an angle so he could sit behind me and assess the damage.

For a moment, he was silent before he cleared his throat and in an unsure tone that I wasn't expecting from a mobster, he said, "I need to lift up your shirt so I can see."

That tone was so different from all the other guys that would have used the opportunity for their own gain that I felt my defenses slipping. This man was so different from all the other thugs that joined Killian, would it really be so bad to let him in?

Slowly so as to not cause too much pain, I eased the hem of my shirt up. About half way up, the pain shot through me and I gasped, squeezing my eyes tight to keep the tears back. After a moment, I opened them again. "Help," my voice was barely a whisper, but Liam didn't move until I uttered it. Gently, he took hold of my shirt and eased it up. I couldn't raise my injured arm so it was tricky getting it over my head and other arm so Liam could slide it carefully down off my injured arm.

I could barely feel his light touch as he examined the wound. After a few minutes, he declared, "It's dislocated. We're going to have to go to the hospital."

Letting out a shaky breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding, I nodded. The tears were too close to the surface so I didn't say anything for fear of losing control and crying in front of him.

"Do you have a button-down shirt to wear? It will be easier to get on," Liam asked.

Surprised by his thoughtfulness, I replied, "In my closet. Straight down the hall."

I kept my gaze averted as he stood and followed my directions. This man was curiouser and curiouser. With everything he did, he seemed less like the goons Killian hired on and I was left puzzling over how he came to fall in with this rough crowd. When he came back and helped me into a plaid button-down shirt, I resolved to find out more about him. If for no other reason than to figure out his motives. I refused to let myself hope that he would be the one person I could finally let my guard down around. That he could be the one light in the dark that had encompassed my life.