It was raining, a steady drumming against the roof above that only served to increase Mack's apprehension. Harv alone made Mack nervous, but the infamous poker game was less than twenty minutes away and the thought of her bar being filled with Gotham's Mafioso elite was starting to frazzle her nerves.

Anticipation…

Mack frowned at her subconscious. Admittedly she was nervous, perhaps even scared, but to think that even a part of her was secretly reveling in this foray into dangerous waters was absurd.

Even if there was a littletruth to that statement, Mack mused, absently fingering the glass of water occupying the ledge she was currently leaning against. A sudden chill ran down the back of her spine and she shivered, head turning to one side to find an imposing Harv suddenly occupying the wall adjacent to her, arms crossed across his chest.

His eyes ran down her figure, taking in the black dress pants and black tank top sporting a sarcastic, 'Knowledge is power. Power corrupts. Study hard… be evil,' in red lettering.

He allowed a smile smirk to run across his lips before addressing the woman staring at him so expectantly. "Mack."

"Harv," she responded with a nod and a raised brow. Brown eyes met mismatched ones for a long second before Mack blinked and moved her gaze towards a less threatening part of him. Unconsciously, her eyes made their way to the black double shoulder rig he was sporting, and for a second she wanted to go back to looking straight into those sinister eyes of his.

Harv narrowed his eyes appraisingly, before he closed the distance between them, his hands coming to rest on her bare shoulders. "My associates do not show fear in the face of the enemy."

Goosebumps rose on her arms at the soft tone of his voice that failed to hide the threat behind his words. She forced her eyes to his once more, "Relax," one hand moving to caress the hollow of her collarbone. "No one harms what belongs to me," he paused, a devilish chuckle rising in this throat, "except for me."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise, Harv." Mack replied before adding,

"We can discuss your misconceptions on people being possessions later."

This time he did smirk, "the misconceptions are yours, Mack, but delude yourself if it comforts you."

Her mouth thinned into a flat line before she opened it to form a retort. "You have serious…"

He interrupted her with a small squeeze to her upper arms. "Later," he spoke, his voice going flat. She blinked, confused at his sudden change in mannerism until she heard the growing murmur of voices and the sound of the back door buzzer floating down the hallway towards them.

"Just remember whose protecting you from the wolves, Mack." Harv added coldly as he turned around and headed down the hallway towards his guests, throwing one last unreadable look over one shoulder at her before disappearing around the corner.

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Harv nodded shortly at the tall, thin Italian standing in the doorway of his 'Rec Room', "Solvetti."

The older man returned the gesture, adding a quick, "Harv," as he slid his overcoat off his shoulders and tossed it at his nearest lackey. Harv rolled his eyes at the unconscious arrogance the man displayed and shared a knowing look with Mark, who had placed himself and his three associates strategically around the room.

If this had been a set-up, Solvetti would have had one less man able to go for his gun, and since he'd only brought four- including his own son- he was being purposely careless. Harv took a seat at the table in the far corner, his back to the wall, filing away the subtle suggestion that Solvetti did not find him a threat for later consideration.

Solvetti took a seat to Harv's right and gave the room a once over. "She must be quite a piece of ass to come all the way to the slums to drink." Solvetti smiled coldly at Harv, "though, I see your lap dog," he glanced deliberately at Mark, "was able to salvage some semblance of taste and sophistication."

"Mark is very efficient." Harv agreed before turning his gaze to something just to the left of Solvetti, "I can't imagine how difficult it must be to be bound by family obligations and not able to pick employees based on skill."

Solvetti discreetly followed his line of sight to find his own son, Antonio, holding a conversation with Mark. The corners of his eyes tightened, "Tony's loyalty does not have to be bought."

Harv laughed cynical, "Loyalty to blood relations is not the same as loyalty to the man you chose."

"My son would never betray me."

"And if Denati had promoted Mark instead of the products of his own inept bloodline," Harv lips curled into a cruel smile, "he wouldn't be six feet under right now."

Solvetti forced down a snarl at the man across from him. Denati had been a highly formidable man in his prime. The fact that he had been cut down by this animal- who had barely received a slap on the wrist for his crimes- was almost more than Solvetti could bear.

Harv didn't bother hiding his amusement at Solvetti's anger. "If this is the best poker face you can muster, then I think you're in for a long losing streak tonight."

"Arrived in time to head off the bloodshed," Tater said just loud enough to carry to the table Harv and Solvetti occupied. "As usual," he added.

He smiled patronizingly at the two Mob leaders and the palpable tension surrounding them. "Do you have to bait one another constantly?" Tater replied, this time allowing his irritation to slip through his thin veneer of calm as his slipped his jacket onto the back of the chair.

"It amuses me." Solvetti gave a small half shrug before ordering a drink from the serving woman who had approached quietly from his right.

Tater nodded at Mack before following Solvetti's order with his own. Neither man missed the obvious possessiveness in the hand that gripped the woman's wrist before Harv muttered a soft, "the usual, Mack," to the petite woman.

"A woman who knows her place," Solvetti sent a retreating Mack an appraising glance, "how novel."

Harv chuckled at the steel that suddenly infused his bartender, as he watched her shoulders tense then straighten to the point that it had to be painful. Mack sent a scathing look over her shoulder at the other Italian man whose name she'd yet to learn, but managed to bite back the rude comment she wanted so badly to utter.

Solvetti raised an eyebrow at the disfigured gangster next to him, "she's silent, has a fair bit of self-control, and access to a full bar," he mused, and then dryly observed, "probably the only woman in the entire city who could tolerate you for more than an hour or so."

"Or maybe she just gets him drunk until he passes out." A wry male voice sounded from behind Tater.

Harv scowled at the platinum blond, "It's a wonder I haven't had you murdered yet, Ryan."

Ryan snorted, "You're not the only person to have made that exact claim, just the first not to be related to me." He glared in mock anger at his gray haired father.

Tater rolled his eyes at his eldest son's dramatics and made a show of asking god what'd he'd done to earn such a trying child.

Ryan snorted at the obvious answer to that question and nodded at Solvetti before spotting Mark and Solvetti's son, Anthony, at a nearby table. Making his excuses he went to join in whatever animated discussion the two were having.

Solvetti turned to Tater one eyebrow raised in disdain. "You should have instilled more obedience in your son - he's disrespectful."

Tater snorted at his childhood friend, "He was raised to replace me, not be my bitch."

"God save us," he muttered in response before sampling the gin Mack had set in front of him.

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Mack stood behind the bar, catching her breath between waiting tables and took a swig of bottled water. Piling her hair on top of her head she stood in front of a nearby fan, cooling her neck. If this level of work was going to be the norm every poker night she was going to have to consider hiring an extra person to handle the front of the bar.

Glancing at the clock she noted that the last of Harv's associates was slowly inching past the fashionably late point and she briefly wondered if he was breaking some sort of super secret gangster rule. Sighing, she let her hair fall back into place only to pile it up in a messy knot. Leaning down to prepare another round she briefly looked up at the sound of the front door buzzer, only to stop and stare open mouthed at the dreamboat that walked in.

Strawberry blonde hair, scruff running across a chiseled jaw, a muscular body encased in khakis, a brown duster, and dirty work boots – Mack forced herself not to continue to stare, but couldn't help comparing him to a more rugged Toby Keith.

Two of his companions flanked his sides while the other two trailed behind him, all dressed in a similar fashion. Perhaps a foreman and his crew, Mack mused.

The tall man in the duster approached the bar and gave her an appraising look before leaning on arm on the bar ledge. "You must be Mack."

Mack almost swooned at the Irish brogue in the man's voice, but managed to reply calmly, "What can I do for you boys."

"I'm here ta see your boss."

"You're talking to her," she retorted smartly.

He chuckled darkly before stating, "I dinna mean the owner of the bar, woman. I'm here to see your boss." He offered her one large hand, "Patrick Shaughnessy."

Mack hesitated for a brief second before shaking his hand, "Jamie Mackenzie."

He blinked and then smiled wildly, "Now what's a nice Irish girl like you doing mixed up with men like us?"

Mack narrowed her eyes. There's no way this is the missing mob guy, she mused inwardly. He's way too normal looking, he's not wearing the standard suit and hell – this guy looks like he WORKS for a living. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Mack replied after a moment's debate.

Shaughnessy looked pointedly over his shoulder at a member of his entourage who quickly found a cell phone, and dialed a number from memory. A short minute and a quiet conversation later, Mark rounded the corner and greeted Shaughnessy with a hearty handshake.

"What are you doing standing up here?" Mark nodded towards the bar proper.

"The lass wasn't very forthcoming with the location o' your boss." The Irishman nodded towards Mack.

"Really?" Mark looked at Mack, face unreadable.

"Tis' a good woman you've got here." Shaughnessy flashed a brilliant smile at Mack and winked.

She blinked at him momentarily stymied at the sudden realization that this WAS the mob guy before recalling that Tater had mentioned an Irish family the other day. Recovering herself she returned his grin, "It's nice to know somebody appreciates me."

"I'd appreciate you more if you could see your way inta bringing me and the boys a couple o' Killian's."

Mack rolled her eyes, "I should have known. You were only after my booze." Mack flashed him a smile before reaching down into a nearby cooler for the requested beverage.

"Well knowing your boss, asking for anything other than that would probably get me shot, lass."

Mack paused and then smirked, "It'd probably get you shot twice." Shaughnessy blinked and then burst out laughing before he and his entourage headed back to where Harv and his other guests were waiting for him.

After loading one her larger serving trays with alcoholic beverages, Mack sauntered down the hallway to once again brave the group of mobsters occupying her back room.

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Some few hours later, business was starting to slow down and the chips were piled high in the center of Harv's table. Smoke was thick in the air and around the boss's table the flunkies were starting to nurse their beverages.

"Son of a bitch, you're worse than he is," Tater tossed his head in Two-Face's direction all the while grousing at Solvetti. Folding his cards his shoved them away in disgust, "Lucky bastard."

Smirking Solvetti racked in the stack of chips and tossed his cards at Shaughnessy to deal. Shuffling the cards around Shaughnessy sent a side long look at Solvetti "Ya know I heard yesterday that one o' Schultz clubs tis under investigation, again."

"Spare me the looks you Irish bastard, despite popular opinion I don't hold the fuckers' leash." Solvetti scowled at Shaughnessy and then scowled down at his cards. "Why do we even let you deal? You couldn't give me a decent hand if I stacked the fucking deck for you."

"Ach! I deal jos' fine, rich boy…"

Two-Face cut him off mid sentence, "Shaughnessy – you fucking suck." Harv surveyed his own hand, half tempted to fold now. "Seriously Solvetti," Harv added as he waved Mack over for a refill. "When the fuck is that ass clown gonna get it through his thick skull that 'Acropolis' is A) a stupid fucking name for a club and B) being watched by the goddamn fuzz!"

"Tater, will you please remind these dicks, once again, that I don't run Schultz's business, the 'Acropolis' included." Solvetti shook his glass at Mack in a manner reminiscent of Harv, "Besides, he's still insulated enough that it wouldn't affect him."

Tater scowled at his childhood his friend, "Doesn't stop him from being a fucking embarrassment, now does it."

Solvetti sighed, one hand rubbing the space between his eyebrows, "so is this what you invited me for – to convince me to knock some sense into him."

Two-Face snorted and leaned back to make room for Mack to spread the liquor around, "Solvetti if you asked Schultz to give you a penny for his thoughts you'd get fucking change back. There's no sense to knock into him."

Even Solvetti laughed maliciously at that remark and Tater and Shaughnessy were practically in tears. Mack, for her part, did her best not to laugh outright but only managed to hide her amusement as a poorly disguised coughing fit.

Two-Face patted her familiarly on the ass and smirked up at her sudden indignation, "Try to keep it together Mack." She returned his look with an exasperated one of her own before disappearing into the maze of tables surrounding them.

Once the laughter had died down, Tater turned back to Solvetti, "No one expects you to step in, let alone fix his sorry ass." Tater turned to make sure Mack wasn't nearby and then lowered his voice. "However, there may come a time when something will need to be done about him."

Solvetti narrowed his eyes and replied scathingly, "Don't you think that's premature, Luigi?"

Tater sneered back at him clearly irritated at being called by his first name, "I never said it needed to be done now, Mario, just that you need to accept the reality of the situation."

"I'm not deluded you fool. I'm perfectly aware of what's going on and when the times comes, I'll shoot him myself if I have to, but," Solvetti hissed, "trying to absorb unclaimed territory into his empire, even under the table, is hardly an excuse for a war or an execution of a major crime boss."

"But being an idiot 'tis," Shaughnessy interrupted, "he brings ta much unwanted attention to us."

Solvetti scoffed, "Bullshit, they're so busy bothering him, not to mention all the other crazies in this town," Solvetti threw a sidelong glare at Harv, "that they don't even look twice at us."

Two-Face scowled at the veiled insult, the card game completely forgotten, "Removing Nick's crazy ass and letting someone else take his place would make us all a lot richer. We all lose money when we have to go around him to other sources."

Shaughnessy sent the others a speculative look, "if we're gonna go through the trouble o' murderin' the bastard I'm dinna sure I want him replaced."

There was a collective pause as the four men mulled this suggestion over. Solvetti broke the silence first, "I'd… consider… the possibility." There followed a round of nods and one grunt from Harv before they waved over John and three other lackeys to sort and cash out the poker chips.

"I believe it's my turn next week." Tater stood and collected his coat and winnings from one of his men. "I'll have Ryan call with the details." Gathering his entourage, he nodded at his associates and made his way towards the exit. Solvetti followed his lead and made his excuses as well, the back door buzzer sounding as he exited the bar.

Shaughnessy surveyed the room for a brief moment and then sighed. "I dinna think I need ta tell ya to watch your arse," he murmured, sending Harv a pointed look.

"Your concern is touching," Harv replied sarcastically.

The Irish man gave Harv a long hard look and then let his façade fall to the wayside, accent included. "Look Harv, I have no desire to be stuck in this god forsaken city with nothing but snotty ass Italian gangsters so when you start this fight make damn sure that you win, and that it doesn't get out of hand. I don't want a war on my hands – it's bad for business."

Two-Face narrowed his eyes, "You make it seem like a forgone conclusion."

"You and I both know it is," came the adamant reply, "Schultz is going to do something fucking stupid after this little party and when you go for his throat, make sure you don't leave any evidence."

"I'm not exactly new to this game Shaughnessy," Harv replied contemptuously. "Fuck, you worry more than a goddamn woman."

"And you aren't as crazy as you try to seem Two-Face."

Harv sent him an evil smirk, "That sounds distinctly like a challenge."

"Spare me the bullshit," Shaughnessy scoffed, "and just try to spare the theatrics this time." The silent reference to Denati and Harv's private war was unmistakable.

Shaughnessy stood and nodded briefly at Harv before tossing his coat on and heading out the door, his employees following behind him.

Harv's men exchanged looks and then breathed a sigh of relief that the evening had passed without blood shed. It was exceedingly rare that there be ANY problems with the bosses gathered, but it was always an unnerving possibility.

Mark stood and made his way over to sit down next to Harv remaining beer in hand. Leaning back he tossed one arm over the back and then waited. Several minutes later he was rewarded with a surly, "What.".

"Anything new," he responded lightly doing his best to be nonchalant.

Harv turned at stared at Mark, narrowing his eyes, "are you trying to handle me Mark?"

Mark paused at then smiled ruefully, "well… I'm trying to."

There was a snort and then, "apparently the whole fucking world at large is waiting for us to eradicate Schultz from the face of the goddamn universe."

"Are we going to?" Mark asked.

Two-Face shrugged, "probably."

Mark nodded, he'd been expecting as much. "I'll see if I can't think of a few scenarios that might prove workable should the need arise."

Harv paused and then sent Mark a threatening look, "are you fucking telling me you don't already have a few worked out."

"It's possible," he smirked at his boss, "that I already have a few contingency plans kicking around."

Harv grunted and then, "anything already in the works?"

"I have initiative, not suicidal impulses." Mark responded dryly before downing the rest of his beer.

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Mack looked around the empty back room and quickly assessed the situation. Beer bottles everywhere, ashtrays overflowing, remnants of god knows what on the floor – yep, she'd be here forever cleaning up.

Sighing she made her way over to the first table and immediately had heart palpations – there nestled in the mess of booze and trash were four hundred dollar bills. Blinking she pocketed the cash and quickly made her way around the room only to find the same state of affairs at each table. Slumping into the chair Harv had vacated just minutes ago she realized that each man must have each left at least a hundred even though the average tab was a fourth of that.

Well… turns out crime does pay, Mack smirked at her own personal joke and then shifted slightly to one side. There was a soft plop noise directly behind her and she turned and looked down to find a black dress hat lying on the floor.

Reaching down she picked it up and gave it a thorough once over. Black cloth with a worn front brim, most likely from always being pulled down, complete with a very expensive looking designer label on the inside. She smiled slightly, running her hands along it, recognizing it as the hat Harv used to wear so often before he had assumed control of her back room. Most likely it had hung on the back of the chair all night and had been forgotten in the midst of all the hubbub.

Mack looked briefly around, as if to reassure herself that yes, Harv and his guys were indeed gone, and then promptly tried it on. She ran back to the mirror hanging behind the bar and turned her head this way and that admiring her reflection. Pursing her lips she admitted with a sigh that while it was quite nice it was much too big. But…, she paused, and then promptly stuffed her hair up inside the hat. Smiling, she reconsidered her appearance. Perfect…

Briefly looking at the calendar she realized that Halloween was next Friday. Slowly at idea began to take place in the back of her mind. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hold onto his hat for an extra day or two. Smirking she grabbed an empty tray and a trash can and made her way towards the back room, all the while wearing her newest accessory.

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Leon Shultz stared across the table at his uncle and did his damnedest not to balk at what the man was suggesting. He had come to realize that Nick was acting more and more unstable, and the possible ramifications of what his uncle was suggesting were staggering.

The more time he spent with the old man the more he felt that it was time for him to step aside. He was running this family into the fucking ground, and by the time he kicked the bucket there wouldn't be enough left for Leon to work with. It was bad enough that his uncle allowed his personal vendetta to get so out of hand, putting himself always on the outs with Tater- the man who just happened to be the most powerful gangster in the city.

He couldn't remember what the hell Tater's first name was; he'd gone by the nick name so long. Hell, he'd been called Tater since before Leon was born. First names in this city were irrelevant, it was your family affiliation that counted, and Tater had been heading the Giovanni family for the last twenty or so years. The Giovannis had more money that the Vatican.

The Schultz family name, however, was starting to lose respect in the circles they traveled in. Losing respect was a death warrant in this business. People tended to turn on you when they thought you were on your way out. His cousin Rosa had married one of Solvetti's nephew several years back and just the other day he'd heard her husband make a snide remark about 'those Germans'.

The very first Shultz had been German, but after a hundred years of marrying nothing but Italians, there wasn't more than a drop of German left in them. Ten years ago, no one would have dared to say such a thing about his family- especially in his uncle's own home. Ten years ago he could have confronted the worthless bastard without worrying about destroying a desperately needed alliance.

An alliance that was slowly crumbling beneath them. Despite the front Solvetti portrayed to the public, he wasn't so fond of his nephew's wife to bother supporting a family that was sinking like a rock. If Solvetti pulled his support they were fucked.

The vultures were circling the wagon and good ol' Uncle Nick was about to serve them up to the fucking mob on a silver platter.

"Let me get this straight," Leon glanced suspiciously from side to side, making sure no one else in the restaurant was eavesdropping. "Two-Face has set up shop in an area we recently assumed control of, which I'll agree, is a blatant show of disrespect. So you feel it's imperative that we retaliate in some way, but we can't do anything that would implicate us."

Nick stabbed a piece of steak with his fork, "That sorry fucking bastard played poker with Tater in the middle of my fucking turf, not two goddamn days ago, and he deliberately invited Solvetti because he knew he'd run back and tell me. The fuckers are laughing at us!"

"So what…you wanna ruin a couple of his deals, blow up something he owns…" Leon leaned back against his chair, not at all comfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

"I fucking told you it can't be obvious. It has to be subtle. Something innocuous and simple. I want it clear that nothing he owns is to be touched, including that bar he frequents."

Leon saw the glint in his uncle's glazed eyes and hoped like hell this wasn't going where he though it was.

"The woman, however, is fair game… once she leaves the bar."

Leon closed his eyes for a brief second and inwardly cursed his uncle six ways 'til Sunday. "Tell me you're not putting a hit out on her."

"No, Two-Face and his lap dog," Nick sneered at the nick-name he'd given Mark, "would be able to tell instantly that it had been a professional job. But houses, are broken into all the time, and if she just happens to be there when it happens and gets roughed up a little. Well… these things happen," Nick spread his hands and shrugged.

"Why the woman? She's of no consequence to us, and Two-Face couldn't give a flying fuck what happens to her. Disrupting her life isn't gonna affect him at all, unless it would impugn her ability to fetch a beer."

"Don't be fucking stupid! That bar is a shit hole. There isn't a single fucking reason for him to frequent a dump like that. The fucker could have built his own bar if he wanted to, but instead he takes up residence in a bar where the only plus is the women running it."

"Two-Face is one of the most heartless bastards alive. There ain't no way he cares about some broad."

"I didn't say he cared about her you idiot. What matters to him is that she's his property and nobody touches what's his. I have an eyewitness to that bar fight that took place last Friday. Two-Face couldn't wait to ride to her fucking rescue."

"And how are they going to know we were responsible if we keep this shit quiet? Revenge isn't any good if the recipient doesn't know who did it."

"It doesn't matter what the bitch thinks. Two-Face knows we're pissed. He deliberately invited Tater to his bar just to piss me off. He'll be expecting some sort of retaliation, but he's too arrogant to believe we'd ever actually fucking retaliate physically. It's the perfect opportunity. He won't realize what's happened until its too late. And then he's the one who looks like a worthless son of a bitch because he can't protect one measly woman."

"And what if he takes it personally?"

"I want the fucker to take it personally!"

"Two-Face is insane. He won't stop to consider political ramification before trying to having us killed."

"I've been doing this for twenty fucking years, Leon! I know what the fuck I'm doing." Nick sneered at the young man, making it clear his mind was made up. "Send in one of the muscle outside and get the fuck outta my sight".

Leon stood up abruptly, still angry at the actions his uncle had planned. Turning around he stalked across the floor, relayed the message, and was outside the small restaurant in less than a minute.

Leon shut the car door with an angry slam, and told the driver to take the scenic route. Nick was gonna get them all killed. Christ, it'd be like Denati all over again. His uncle had lost it. If the plan did work, then Two-Face would know they were responsible and most likely start his own private war. If it didn't work, then the whole thing was a waste of resources that could have gone towards making them more money.

He thought back to the situation with Denati several years ago and grimaced. Two-Face had showed no mercy. He had wiped the entire family off the map. He had blow up their business fronts, their safe houses, and even the century old family estate- while the grandchildren were visiting. Who he couldn't blow up he had picked off one by one- no doubt the work of Denati's previous employee, Mark.

Leon had never seen such a complete takeover of someone's assets before. Bank accounts had been emptied, vaults had been looted, and Solvetti had even mentioned once that Two-Face had kept Denati's 1940's Rolls Royce out of pure spite.

Leon sighed and began seriously considering whether or not he could get away with murdering his uncle and simply take over as head of the family sooner rather than later.

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Mack munched happily on a slice of pepperoni pizza, courtesy of Harv and company. She had survived her first ever poker night, which Harv had informed her would be a monthly thing, was currently enjoying her second Sunday night football get together, and was now feeling fairly optimistic about the whole 'Two-Face hides out at my bar' scenario – which for her, was something of a first. Admittedly Schultz was still a concern, but for once sitting next to Harv was more of a reassurance than a threat and she was finding it oddly comforting – disturbing – but comforting. Mack paused, realized she'd just admitted to finding Harv comforting and quickly shoved that thought in a box somewhere and locked it.

Still, despite the hell of the last few years or so, and certain disturbing thoughts, tonight all was right with the universe and Mack couldn't quite help but feel extremely content. A fact that Harv couldn't resist prodding her about.

"What the fuck are you so pleased about, Mack," Harv asked suspiciously during a commercial break.

Mack blinked, opened her mouth to respond and then stopped. What exactly was she going to say… that she was enjoying his company? Admit that their arrangement was beginning to appeal to her? Hell, she wasn't ready to be that honest, with herself, let alone him. "I don't know. I just feel… good, I guess."

"You guess…," he replied skeptically. "What exactly brought this mood swing on?"

"Mood swing," Mack sent him a sideways glance. "Is it really so unnatural to see me looking happy?"

"Yes." He said adamantly. "Cynical… yes, argumentative… most definitely, amusing… well, sometimes on purpose and sometimes on accident, but never happy."

"Hey, I'm happy." Mack frowned and him and his sudden observation and leveled a finger at his chest. "I know happy, and I'm it."

"Oh yeah… you look it," he snorted and then looked pointedly down at the finger she had aimed at him and then at her frown, "the very picture of blissful exuberance."

"Hmpf," Mack crossed her arms, "well I was until you came and bothered me."

"My apologies princess," Harv replied scathingly, "but you still haven't told me what the fuck you were so happy about," he prodded once again, completely ignoring her rebuff.

"Aww, will you look at that," Mack pointed to the television, "the games back on. Guess I better go check on my customers up front." Mack sent Harv a fake smile clearly not disappointed in the least to have an excuse to leave. Standing up she grabbed her half eaten slice of pizza and headed back to the bar proper.

"You can run but you can't hide," he murmured darkly at her retreated back.

"Watch me," came her muttered reply.

Women… Harv muttered subconsciously.

Do you realize what just happened? Harvey asked in a stunned voice.

Mack turned chicken shit and ran off thinking she could avoid me.

I think she was happy to see us!

How the fuck do you figure that?

Mack was sitting next to us, eating pizza, being happy, content, at peace…For once she wasn't nervous or constantly being reminded of our criminal connections.

Alright smart ass, if she was so fucking thrilled to be in my presence then why did she run off to avoid me.

Because you kept harassing her - she doesn't want to admit that she likes being in the presence of depraved murdering psychopaths!

Are fucking telling me that she left to avoid telling me she liked my company.

Harvey sighed, Harv… what would you do if Mack told you to your face that she was beginning to see the benefits of your professional arrangement, let alone admitted to enjoying your company?

I'd gloat… openly. Mock her mercilessly for abandoning her so called morals after only a month. I'd be the epitome of…

Harvey snorted and cut in. And you wonder why she left you sitting here by yourself…

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Mack busied herself bussing the two tables that her last customers had just vacated, all the while frowning.

Stupid Harv…Always has to dig and pick at me until he gets what he wants. Can't just leave something alone, no he has to harass, hound, and badger me until he's satisfied.

She had absolutely no intention whatsoever of admitting to that egomaniac that she was actually starting to appreciate the benefits of their arrangements, let alone tell him she liked talking to his crazy ass and his better half. Christ, he'd mock her for eternity simply for caving so easily.

Hell, shewas mocking herself for caving so easily. She paused and then mental backtracked. Okay… maybe she wasn't caving so much as reconsidering the pros and cons of the situation. Yes, she decided, that was much less painful to internalize. In fact, intelligent, rational people reanalyzed situations all the time. She was merely reevaluating her relationship with aforementioned mobsters. Not that they had one… a relationship that is. In fact… it was probably best to simply avoid that word in the future. What they had was an association.

Say… the Gangster and Bartender Assoc. Or Criminals and Waitress in Co – maybe even, The Psycho and Sanity club.

Mack smiled fondly at that last one and turned around, empty beer bottles in hand, only to almost drop them on the floor.

"Christ!" She exclaimed, sending Harv an exasperated look, "how long have you been sitting there?"

Harv sent her a considering look from the chair he was occupying, "Long enough."

Mack rolled her eyes at his cryptic response and started to move past him back to the bar until he quite deliberately stretched his long legs out in front of him, blocking her path back to the bar.

Mack frowned at him and his lower extremities, and took a quick look around. Yep, he'd purposely set there so she'd have to either crawl across a table or go through him to get back to the bar. She mentally cursed Carl for always sitting in the far corner table, "You know… you're a real piece of work Harv."

"I'm not the one who ran out on a perfectly legitimate conversation."

"How exactly, does it count as a legitimate conversation if I don't want to participate in it any more?" She retorted, moving forward to try and nudge his feet out of the way. He didn't budge. "You know… what would you do if I just stepped over you?"

"Try it and find out," he replied, his expression dark and sinister.

She stood there for a long minute, meeting him stare for stare, and fighting the urge to call his bluff. He was bullying her again, and they both knew it, except deep down, she knew he wasn't bluffing at all. He'd trip her and not feel bad in the slightest when she fell flat on her face – after all he'd warned her.

Mack swallowed convulsively… was it her or was it getting kind of warm in here? He kept staring back at her, with those malevolent eyes and his never ending smirk, radiating danger and heat, reminding her exactly who he was but still daring her to do it anyway.

Mack pulled her eyes from his and stepped back before her own desire to win overwhelmed her good sense. Shoving the bottles onto the nearest table she slumped into a nearby chair, hands shaking slightly.

"Thought you were gonna do it for a minute there, Mack." His raspy voice seemed to carry a tinge of disappointment, like a predator being denied his prey.

"So did I," she agreed, her voice unsteady.

"Maybe you should just tell me what you're hiding and spare yourself any more unpleasantness." Harv offered reasonably.

Too reasonably, in Mack opinion, "Nice try, slick. But it's my secret and I'm keeping it."

"Spare me the bullshit and just admit it Mack," he demanded. "You were having a good time with a bunch of wanted men. A group of con men, hit men and thieves – you just don't want to admit it. But don't worry," he added with a twisted smile, "They tell me the guilt passes."

"And what exactly do I have to be guilty about Harv?" Mack stared at him defiantly. "The way you tell it, I'm in no way to blame for anything you do, have done, or will do. All I do is sit here and serve you alcohol; maybe watch a game or two on your T.V."

"Sort of wondered when you'd get there, Mack." He drawled. Climbing to his feet he looked her over for a long minute and then added a short, "you done brooding now."

"I do not brood," she responded primly, standing up herself. "I careful reevaluate situations."

He snorted and sent her a disbelieving look, "you always this delusional?"

"Only since I met you," Mack muttered as she maneuvered past him towards the bar.

He reached out and stopped her with a firm hand to her upper arm before she'd made it more that a foot, "Where exactly do you think you're going, woman?"

She turned back to him clearly confused, "I'm going to start cleaning up."

Harv steered the both of them towards the hallway leading to the back room, "I don't think so princess. You can clean up later. We're missing the end of the third quarter."

"What if I'd rather clean up." She inquired curiously as they passed the bar.

He favored her with a particularly smug look, "Then I'd suggest you carefully reevaluate the situation."

"You just couldn't wait to use that on me, could you," Mack asked him wryly before stopping quickly at the bar for another beverage run.

"Couldn't resist," he admitted, before following her back down the hallway for more football.