Pix
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 8, 2010
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Tanner McNulty sat in the quiet back corner in the oversized booth listening to one of his captains. The largeness of the booth provided an ample amount of privacy, not that it was needed in the quiet restaurant after the kitchen had closed for the night, but it gave Tanner an extra feeling of security.
Tanner McNulty was the underboss of the Hogan Criminal Syndicate, the oldest organized crime family in the city, The Lakes. McNulty answered only to Keiran Coonan, who was currently serving ten years on conspiracy to commit murder charges in a state penitentiary. Coonan was advised by his consigliere and longtime best friend, Arthur McNulty, Tanner's uncle, to turn the day-to-day over to the twenty-nine year old Tanner.
Despite its longevity, the HCS was not the most feared criminal outfit in the region. The Triad connected Xian organization had cemented itself a decade before as the kings of The Lakes with a couple of upstarts come and go and then reappear over the last twenty five years to leapfrog what seemed like an archaic bunch, the Hogans.
However, those upstarts did not have the staying power, and that was the reason they soon fell by the wayside. Most of the time an obsession with machismo and infighting would bring them down, and if they got too out of line, the cops couldn't just sit on their bribes and pretend nothing was a problem anymore. Even though the HCS was quiet, it did not make them any less dangerous, and some would even say they were burning slow and biding their time. That is why the Irish mob in The Lakes had reason to be a bit anxious, not only could people feel they were building something, but they all knew Tanner was going to be the guy to do it.
"What do you think, charge him a few more points?" Knuckles Muldoon, an old bystander and still a reliable captain asked Tanner.
Tanner nodded, "Sounds like a good remedy Knucks, but I gotta clock out. I'm getting tired."
Knuckles nodded and said so long, but didn't leave until he got one last Jameson from the bar. Tanner sipped his Redbreast 15 and basked in the quiet. The bar/restaurant was a front for the Hogans. It was a legit place, with decent food and a great atmosphere, but was the main office for most of their operations. Also, it was quiet enough, that while the bar remained open after kitchen close, most of the customers disappeared.
Tanner sipped the warm liquor that wet his lips and burned once it reached the back of his throat. It warmed his stomach as he reflected on the past three years since his promotion. He had made so many promises he had to break. One was to a woman he knew he loved, a woman who lit such a fire inside of him, good and bad. She gave him an ultimatum, and when the title and responsibilities of underboss presented themselves, she took off. No children, the two just cut ties after they divorced. Tanner had heard that she tried to make a go of it outside of The Lakes, in the suburbs or something like that, but he hadn't heard anything of her since...until she walked in through the doors.
Tanner McNulty was the underboss of the Hogan Criminal Syndicate, the oldest organized crime family in the city, The Lakes. McNulty answered only to Keiran Coonan, who was currently serving ten years on conspiracy to commit murder charges in a state penitentiary. Coonan was advised by his consigliere and longtime best friend, Arthur McNulty, Tanner's uncle, to turn the day-to-day over to the twenty-nine year old Tanner.
Despite its longevity, the HCS was not the most feared criminal outfit in the region. The Triad connected Xian organization had cemented itself a decade before as the kings of The Lakes with a couple of upstarts come and go and then reappear over the last twenty five years to leapfrog what seemed like an archaic bunch, the Hogans.
However, those upstarts did not have the staying power, and that was the reason they soon fell by the wayside. Most of the time an obsession with machismo and infighting would bring them down, and if they got too out of line, the cops couldn't just sit on their bribes and pretend nothing was a problem anymore. Even though the HCS was quiet, it did not make them any less dangerous, and some would even say they were burning slow and biding their time. That is why the Irish mob in The Lakes had reason to be a bit anxious, not only could people feel they were building something, but they all knew Tanner was going to be the guy to do it.
"What do you think, charge him a few more points?" Knuckles Muldoon, an old bystander and still a reliable captain asked Tanner.
Tanner nodded, "Sounds like a good remedy Knucks, but I gotta clock out. I'm getting tired."
Knuckles nodded and said so long, but didn't leave until he got one last Jameson from the bar. Tanner sipped his Redbreast 15 and basked in the quiet. The bar/restaurant was a front for the Hogans. It was a legit place, with decent food and a great atmosphere, but was the main office for most of their operations. Also, it was quiet enough, that while the bar remained open after kitchen close, most of the customers disappeared.
Tanner sipped the warm liquor that wet his lips and burned once it reached the back of his throat. It warmed his stomach as he reflected on the past three years since his promotion. He had made so many promises he had to break. One was to a woman he knew he loved, a woman who lit such a fire inside of him, good and bad. She gave him an ultimatum, and when the title and responsibilities of underboss presented themselves, she took off. No children, the two just cut ties after they divorced. Tanner had heard that she tried to make a go of it outside of The Lakes, in the suburbs or something like that, but he hadn't heard anything of her since...until she walked in through the doors.
