The Prince of Broadway by Joanna Shupe

Author:Joanna Shupe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-12-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The carriage ride took forever. Clay was nearly frothing at the mouth by the time he reached Great Jones Street. The sun had just fallen behind the buildings as he started toward Mulligan’s club, the long shadows giving cover to illicit activities of all sorts along the way.

The two guards at the door perked up at his approach. They were babes, no more than twenty, likely armed. Clay paid them absolutely no mind as he started up the steps. “Wait,” one of the guards called. “You can’t just—”

Clay brushed by him and flung open the door. The other guard reached out to grab his arm but Clay shook him off. What was Mulligan thinking, putting puppies on guard duty?

He’d been to the New Belfast Athletic Club a few times. Always at night and never for more than a quick meeting with Mulligan. Their business had overlapped in various places over the past decade, and it was a constant push-pull to stay in each other’s good graces. Clay had ceded most of the downtown gaming to Mulligan in the past two years, as he preferred to fleece fancy uptown patrons instead.

He took the stairs to Mulligan’s office two at a time. The guards were hot on his heels, calling after him and shouting for additional help. No doubt some men from the boxing area were joining the fun.

They wouldn’t catch Clay, not before he made it to Mulligan’s office.

He threw open the heavy oak door protecting Mulligan’s inner sanctum. A pistol greeted him on the other side, the barrel pointed directly in his face.

Halting, he waited, his chest heaving. Mulligan’s hard expression quickly turned to one of amusement and he lowered the pistol. “I’ve been expecting you, Clayton. Come in.”

A group of young men skidded and careened into the doorway like hounds on a foxhunt. Voices barked out in unison. “Sir!” “Mulligan.” “Ho!”

Mulligan put up a hand. “It’s all right, boys. I’ve been expecting him.”

The hounds cast disapproving glances at Clay. They drifted off, grumbling. One of the guards from the front door lingered, however. “Want me to stay?”

Mulligan walked over and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Clay and I have business to discuss. Try to stop anyone else from getting past you, eh?”

The guard apologized and left, but Clay was too agitated to pay attention. He dropped into the chair opposite Mulligan’s desk and removed his derby. Irritation echoed in every part of his body.

“Evening, Clay. You’re looking well. May I offer you a drink?”

Clay wanted to shake the other man, to demand every bit of information regarding Florence, but that wasn’t how these things were done. Though they were thugs to the outside world, from the inside their meetings were very civilized. “Bourbon, if you have it.”

“Of course.”

Sounds of glasses and pouring followed, and soon Mulligan was handing Clay a drink. “Thank you,” Clay murmured.

“How are things uptown?” Mulligan dropped into his large leather chair, a glass of beer in his hand. “I hear business is good.

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