Page 6 of Biker's Tribute: Property of Bear

She laughs and my heart catches. I love my mother enough to die for her, but I don’t know if that love will be enough to save her.

“Fine,” she says. “Just be careful with all the temptation out there. Wyatt says you still gamble.”

“Wyatt thinks he’s Jesus.”

“Hey,” she says. “Don’t talk about my favorite child that way.”

“Yeah right,” I mutter, wrapping my mother up in a conciliatory goodbye hug. “I amdefinitelythe favorite. Especially because I’ll bring back mozzarella sticks from my meeting.”

Mom loves everything deep fried and cheesy.

“Okay, you’re right. You are the favorite. Have a good night. I’ll be on the couch watching the new season ofLove Is Blind.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You should go on it,” mom says. “That way you can find a girlfriend.”

“Alright. Heading to Mulligan’s now.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

I let her have “sweetie” because it’s a lot less embarrassing than “little bear”. We live close to Mulligans and close to this office building with a med spa, lawyer’s office, and a therapist’s office that specializes in addictions. Weird ass combination.

Boston’s only problem is being too fucking cold, but I don’t stand out too badly over here. In some states and places, bikers look rough and out of place, but Boston has its own deep mafia roots. I did a job with dad a long time ago in Boston, working with the prominent Irish crime family – the Murrays.

Tonight, I expect Darragh Murray in Mulligan’s, but I don’t recall if he’s the one I met. The bartender can tell I’m from out of town. He looks at me too curiously and stares too long when I order a bottle of whiskey. When Darragh Murray enters Mulligans, I almost laugh to myself that I could have ever not recognized him.

He has blatant tattoos indicating his position and membership in the mob. And he has that look. Fierce blue eyes – a sharp stare. Features that were all taken directly from his Irish motherland. I look like more of a Caucasian mutt in comparison. The recognition is mutual.

“You’re Southpaw’s brother.”

“Bear.”

I extend a hand and find a firm, strong handshake. The kind that inspires confidence in doing business with a man.

“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Sorry I’m late. Had to put the kids down to bed.”

“Understood.”

“You look just like Wyatt. Fucking crazy.”

Darragh Murray used to fight. I gambled (and lost) on a few of those fights. Aside from the fighting, I don’t know what kind of man he is or whether I believe Wyatt that we can trust him.

“I heard you have experience with running black market casinos,” Darragh says. “My brother and I are interested in getting one started in Boston but… we have a unique set of challenges to confront.”

Complexities? I don't have to ask more questions for Darragh to open up to me.

"We have a lot of problems with Puerto Ricans, problems with the cops, and problems with high-rolling customers who don't pay up."

"Can't you handle the cops?"

The bartender brings Darragh a half-pint of robust, amber beer. He nods as he takes the first foamy sip off the top.

"Yes," he says. "I thought you might have the strength to handle the high-rolling customers who don't pay up."

"Some muscle."

"My brother Callum just had his second and I wouldn't normally accept that as an excuse but... he also injured his back. Word travels fast around this city and it'll be a matter of time before there's more chaos than I can handle."

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