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.”

“Indeed, it is. You’d be amazed at how easily some of those fools risk their inheritances.” He forced himself to sip the bourbon, when he wanted to throw the glass against the wall. “I’ve heard you’re expanding into the beer business.” He tipped his chin at the pilsner in Mulligan’s hand.

“I am. Found a damn good brewer. He’s a genius with malt and hops. You should take some of it with you for the club.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Mulligan sipped his beer then placed the glass on a tiny metal platter. “My pleasure. Now, tell me what brings you downtown on such a fine spring night.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yes, but I would love to hear you say it.”