Thread: Why Does the Caged Bird Sing? (Nevermore and Xana)

Traveling at night wasnt a smart idea in this town, but it was Mercedes only choice. Vinnie was asleep, and for once wouldnt have eyes on her. Traveling through this part of town was especially bad, with her olive skin and dark hair, fearing someone might recognize her as Vinnies wife, but she didnt have a choice about that either. If she was going to give Vinnie his comeuppance, the Irish were her best bet. Big Ox had been itching for Italian blood. Mercie could only hope hed at least hear her out, and not slake his desires on her. Eyes were on her as she walked through ' Tr na ng' , but she didnt pay them any mind. Strength was everything, here. If she showed a hint of weakness, shed be torn to shreds. As long as she walked like she belonged her, nobody start any trouble with her. Hopefully. Youre in the wrong club, dago whore, one pasty bastard spat. She met his gaze with steel in her eyes and her purse, the hefty weight of her revolver taking up most of the space. Before he could blink the bag went across his face, the pistol cracking his jaw unexpectedly. He stumbled back a few steps, still trying to figure out what she hit him with before glaring at her with bloodshot eyes. I aint no whore. You tell Big Ox that Mercedes Morello wants to see him, She exacted, standing firm against the wild glower of the Irishman. His companions laughed and whistled, holding the sore guy back. The sore guy and another headed into the back room leaving her with one skinny ginger paddy, who leered at her, but didnt dare speak. There was a bellow from the office, and he motioned with his head for her to head back there. They were pouring drinks from a bottle of Irish whisky, the man she hit still scowling, rubbing his chin as she entered. Big stood at the bar, sipping at his glass as she watched her enter the room, looking for a sign of fear, or weakness. Which wouldnt have been unwarranted, given that he was built like a fucking ox, just as his moniker suggested. Even being older enough to be her father hadnt softened the man any, his arms as her thighs. But she maintained composure, holding her head high as she approached him. You got some kind of moxie, lassie, Mickey, Big Ox Donaghue laughed, handing her a glass comin up me club and smashin on me boys. But what else can I expect from Vinnies little wife. So, whats your dammed good reason for being here? We got a mutual problem that we could help each other out with, Mercie explained, downing the liquor before she could taste it. It just hit the spot, easing the ache of bruised ribs. Oh, do we now? Mick asked, his voice animated with the hint of threat. Just daring her to break down or back down. No way in hell was this rat bastard, or any others going to threaten her anymore. Well, he dont know weve got a problem yet, but I figure you can use that, cant ya? Mercie explained, crossing her arms over her chest. Yall wantin to go to war. Maybe there dont need to be more bodies on your side, is all. Mick laughed into his closed mouth, appraising her. Not just her figure, but her strength, her resolve. War is bad for business, lassie. And I got the bastard who put a bullet in my sons head. I dun need to bury no more of me boys. Wait, what? Mercie swallowed hard at those words, not expecting. Did that meanNino! A Silician she could actually trust, one who would have hated Vinnie as much as she did. Not that it was going to do her any good, if these paddy bastards beat him to death. Shit, she had to do something, if there was any hope of getting her revenge on her rat bastard of a husband. You a damn fool Mickey, if you are satisfied with that. Whats that now? Mick asked, closing in on her now. No flinching. No weakness. You got the man who pulled the trigger, but what about the man who put the gun in his hand? The man who paid a fat stack of bills to see your son face down in a ditch. Youre thinking too small Mickey, and Sean deserved better than that. You dont say my sons name, Mick roared, knuckles turning white from restraining himself. She swallowed hard, but didnt relent, standing tall. After a moment of tense silence, he spoke, You sayin Vinnie ordered the hit? None other. Nino dont do nuthin unless someone is paying for it. Vinnie paid for it. I say, let him pay for it again. Mick scratched his chin for a moment before nodding. Bring that greaseball here, now.