Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(46)

Jack didn’t know what bothered him more – the fact that Danny was taking it upon himself to up the order, or that Danny didn’t think he’d notice. Granted, he hadn’t been looming over anyone’s shoulder, but he hadn’t really thought he’d needed to, either.

Well, he was going to put an end to that, right now. Keeping Danny around out of a sense of moral obligation was one thing, but being taken advantage of was another.

And there was no way his pregnant wife was going to work three fucking jobs so Danny Finnegan could “buy” a bunch of friends with top-shelf liquor using the Pub’s accounts.

“Mr. Finnegan no longer owns the bar, Sal,” Jack said clearly. “I do, which means I determine what we will stock and how much, not Mr. Finnegan. Is that clear?”

Jack blacklined several of the items and put a corrected version of the receipt on the bar, along with a check for substantially less than the original invoice. “This is what I ordered, and this is what I will pay for. Take the rest of it back. Unless, of course, Mr. Finnegan is planning on paying the difference?”

Color rushed to the older man’s cheeks, and fire blazed in his eyes. He didn’t appreciate being called out, but Jack was finished coddling the old man. Finnegan ran the pub into the ground when he owned it; Jack sure as hell wasn’t about to let him do the same to him.

“No? All right then. Glad we’ve cleared that up. I don’t expect we’ll have any more misunderstandings from now on.”

Sal was not particularly happy about taking back the high-priced inventory, but he did. Afterward, Jack intended to have a long overdue conversation with Danny, but the old man left in a huff before he got the chance.

“Did you know about this?” Jack asked Brian point-blank.

“Finnegan padding the orders? No. But I can’t say I’m shocked. He’s made no secret of the fact that he likes pretending he still owns the place.”

That was true enough. The old man spent a good part of his day at the bar, telling colorful stories and reliving his glory days. Jack didn’t mind; Danny had been a fixture there for as long as he could remember. But the fact was, Danny didn’t own the bar any longer. Jack appreciated his experience and the color and history he brought to the place, but he was not about to allow Danny to make financial or business decisions.

“Do you think it was a mistake to keep him on?”

Brian considered carefully before answering. “No, you did the right thing there. Danny’s got his problems, but he’s one of our own. He’s like the alcoholic uncle that shows up at the annual family reunion. Everyone knows what he is, but plays along out of respect and because he is part of the family. Keeping him on the paying side of the bar is probably a good idea, though.”

Jack sighed. Brian was right. Danny was sort of like family. He’d given them both jobs when they’d come back without question, and had wanted Jack to have the Pub over his own son-in-law.

“I shouldn’t have called him out like that, not in front of the delivery guy.”

“It had to be done. Don’t worry about Danny. You hurt his pride a bit, but he’ll be back. Where else is he going to go?”

On that sad note, Jack returned to the table and the accounts while Brian restocked the shelves. Between seventy-five-dollars-a-bottle liquor walking out the door, trying to bring the living space up to code, and greasing the hands of the local politicians in order to keep their coveted liquor license, they were barely keeping their heads above water, surfing the fine line between black and red. Kathleen had done a great job of cutting unnecessary expenses, but it wasn’t going to be enough.

“Shite.” Jack slammed the ledger closed and rubbed his eyes.

“That bad?”

“It’s not good. What the hell was I thinking? Kathleen was right. This place is a black hole when it comes to money.”

Brian drew him a draft and placed it in front of him. “Listen, Jack, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“More bad news, Bri? Because I have to tell you, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but hear me out anyway, okay?”

His friend’s quiet, somber tones and serious expression had Jack nodding. “Okay.”

“I got a call from Sammy Anderson a couple of weeks ago.”

“Sammy Anderson?” Jack’s brows shot up. Sammy Anderson was in their SEAL unit for a while, until one of his legs was blown off and got him sent home.

“Yeah. He’s not adjusting to civilian life well.”

“No?”

“No. Said he was tired of busting his ass at minimum wage jobs he hated anyway. Most places won’t hire him because he doesn’t have the skills they’re looking for. So Sammy decided to market the skills he does have. He’s contracting.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Contracting what?”

“Hits,” Brian said quietly. “Take-downs. The kind where people disappear, you know?”

“Holy shite.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah. It’s fucked up. But it pays damn well. Sammy was calling me from his yacht. Asked me if I needed a job. Mentioned your name, too.”

Jack kept his expression neutral. Brian was doing him a huge favor by helping him out with the bar, tending a few hours every day so Jack could concentrate on the dozens of other things that needed his attention. Jack insisted on paying him minimum plus tips. That was more than the old man had been paying, but it wasn’t a hell of a lot to live on, even under the table. With Brian planning to ask his girl to marry him, he had to be concerned about finances.