Shared Secrets

Chapter 4

Warning: Language, mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, mentions of drugs 

Tom's POV

"Cut off his ring finger and send it to Moriarty. Maybe then he'll get the fucking message." I spit out wiping the sweat from my forehead. This is the second beating I had to give out in the span of twenty-four hours, only this time I didn't let up until the guy was dead. Stenson had caught this shit stain lurking around the property attempting to install surveillance cameras. He claimed to be working alone but the twat was wearing his ring with Moriarty's insignia on it.

Moriarty is the head of the second most powerful mob in London. He's been trying to take us down ever since my father rose to prominence over him about a decade ago. This is just another one of his many failed attempts to try and best me and, frankly, it's getting annoying.

I pull out my phone to see one unread text from Grace. Fucking finally. It had been four hours since I sent the first text. I had half a mind to just send one of my men out to find her and tail her.

Hey Tom. It was nice seeing you as well. My friends and I are planning on going out later tonight at about 10 to the Tap House Bar if you want to meet up with us?

Shit. The Tap House? Really that's where they have to be fucking going? Of all the bars in London, they have to choose the one that I fucking own.

Sounds great! I'll see you then.

I'm going to have to be careful tonight. Everyone knows me at the Tap House Bar. They may not know my exact business, but I'm sure they have their suspicions. Grace can't know what I do for a living. She's too pure and any sort of knowledge she has of me puts her at risk. And to make matters worse, one sloppy attempt was already made to infiltrate our gang and Moriarty isn't daft. He knows we own the Tap House Bar. He could have set something up there to try and take us down piece by piece.

The Tap House Bar started off as a dingy 3 level building that my father had purchased when the real estate markets were low. It was a fucking steal the price he paid for the building located in one of the most prime locations in central London. When I turned 18 my father gave me complete ownership of the small, ugly bar and I turned it into the most profitable, highly regarded bar in all of London. I don't think I've ever seen my father more proud of me than when the bar started turning profits well over 100k. But naturally with that kind of notoriety comes a big fucking target.

"Harrison, I'll need two men with me tonight I'm going to the Tap House," I say walking up the stairs and out of the underground chamber.

"The Tap House again? You were there last night, Tom. Going there again to shake down Donovan would just be overkill. He doesn't have the payments yet I can guarantee you that." Harrison states while jogging slightly across the field to keep up with me.

"I'm not asking permission, Harrison and it's not for a shakedown. I'm meeting someone there."

I get into the backseat of the car slamming the door behind me. I've been stressed out recently. Too much shit has been going wrong. But, I would endure that stress a thousand times over if it meant that everything would go well with Grace tonight.

"Who are you meeting with?" Harrison looks puzzled as he climbs into the back of the big SUV.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's none of your damn business until you understand?" Harrison is starting to get on my last nerves.

"Seriously, Tom? Are we really playing this game again? What are you looking to go pick up some women or something? Because If that's the case I'll just have some sent to your room like always." Harrison is back on his damn phone again, fingers flying over the keyboard at rapid speed.