Page 45 of Fight Me Daddy

Conor blinked at me before he burst out laughing. "These are all my people and this is my territory. No one would even try that shit," he said as he shook his head. "But thank you, for the laugh. Take it."

I snatched up the money and shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie. Fifty thousand dollars. The money felt heavy in my hand and I kept my fist tightened around it so it wouldn't fall out or disappear. Conor might be confident in his people, but I wasn't.

"Good night, Carlos," he said.

"Night."

I pushed my way out of the bar and stopped to suck in a deep breath. Shit. Did that really happen? Mickey waved me over and I trudged to him with my mind still replaying the conversation I had with Conor.

"Everything go alright?" Mickey asked.

"It went great." I paused. "So your boss, he's..."

"Yeah," Mickey said. "He's a dangerous man, but he's not a bastard. And he's my brother."

I paused. "You're...in the mafia."

Mickey nodded. "The mob. Mafia’s the Italians.” He chuckled. “I didn't want to scare you off. I told you, Calix. I like you. And I figured I could help you out."

"Thanks," I said. "It's terrifying, but I could use the cash. Can you give me a ride home?"

Mickey tossed his cigarette. "Yep, come on boyo." He slung an arm over my shoulders. "Tell me everything Conor said."

I stared at him. "No way.

"Good man, good man," he said as he shook me and barked out a laugh. "Keep that up and you'll fit right in."

My stomach twisted. You'll fit right in. I didn't want to fit in with gangsters and mobsters. But every day I was drawn in more.

What was I becoming?

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