The Line Begins To Blur

8. When Desmond Calls

Hearing angry shouts I looked put to see Alex leaving the building in a hurry, darting out in front of traffic to get to his car across the street. I watched as he fumbled with the handle of his car before finally throwing himself inside the vehicle. A tall dark haired man came running out of the entrance to the apartment complex holding a metal baseball bat. He was screaming at Alex from across the street but I couldn't make out the words. Alex floored it into the oncoming traffic, horns erupting from the cars he drove out in front of.

I quick snapped a picture of the man standing on the stoop of the building, making sure to get the address of the building in the frame. I'll be back to question you later, I thought, throwing my phone into the cup holder.

Putting my car in drive I glanced in the passenger side mirror to make sure no one was coming before I pulled out into the road. I looked around to see which direction Alex went.

Nothing. I grabbed my phone that was on the passenger seat to see if I could track his location through his phone but there was a giant red exclamation mark pulsing on the screen. Looking out into the street I could see a smashed cell phone being run over repeatedly by the cars driving up the road. He must have dropped it in his rush to get out of the building.

Slamming my fist down on my steering wheel I groaned. Great, you fucking lost him, I scolded myself mentally.

Turning onto a side street I sped off, angry that I'd lost my target. Four hours of my life wasted. I drove around midtown mindlessly trying to calm my anger but with no luck. I heard my phone vibrating against the plastic of the cup holder for what seemed like the hundredth time before I finally grabbed it.

"Byrne." I snapped.

"Boss wants to talk to you," Nick's voice answered from the other line. He was still pissed at me from our fight.

"Put him on the phone then." I let out an annoyed breath through my nose.

"In person." Nick ended the call before I could say anything more. Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat I drove in the direction of Moriarty's, one of the many bars owned by Desmond Kelly, the current boss of the Malone crime family.

"Declan! Thought the Ruskies finally clipped 'ya." Sean called out the moment I walked in through the stained glass doors. Immediately I was assaulted by bagpipes as I'll Fly Away by Flatfoot 56 was blaring from the speakers that were connected to the jukebox. I leered at his cavalier mention of business in front of a crowded bar, regardless of the loud music. Sean's smile only got bigger as he turned around to reach for the bottle of dark brown liquor on the shelf. By the time I pushed through the crowd and got to the bar he had a glass of Maker's Mark ready for me; two finger pour, no ice. I raised it in a mock cheers before downing all of liquid. I felt the burn of the liquor scorch the back of my throat making me suck in air through clenched teeth. Returning the glass to the wood surface of the bar, I slid it back to the man for another.

"Dezzy's lookin' for 'ya." Sean slid the refilled glass back to me before grabbing an empty pint glass from in front of a college kid dressed in a powder blue pollo and jeans.

"So I'm told."

A brunette woman came around the other side of the frat boy, leaning her arm onto the surface of the bar and resting her head in her hand. It wasn't hard to tell she was drunk from her hooded eyes and the way her arm was swaying as she tried to keep her head up. Her free hand rested on frat boy's shoulder, rubbing it. She turned to Sean who was behind the bar and giggled while she slurred her words, asking for another pink martini. The girl's lidded eyes found my judging ones and her arm immediately dropped from the boy's shoulder. She leaned further over the bar, moving herself so that the deep V-neck of her dress fully faced my direction showing off her overly pushed up chest.