I kept my hand close to my revolver as four shady men entered the pub. Sound of pool balls crashing against each other and cigar smoke filled the room. The tall and rather bulky bartender approached me as I sipped the last of my beer. "Want another, Bud?" he said in a deep, coarse voice. I stared at his beard, and said in a low voice, "Maybe later." I was keeping my attention on those four characters.

Two of the shady characters sat down two stools away from mine, and as I watched them from the corner of my eye, the one with a big Cuban hanging from his mouth was eye-balling me. He mumbled something to the other and they both rose from their seats. The two approached the others and seemed to plot their scheme against me. A drop of sweat cruised down the side of my face as I watched them in the reflection of my glass.`I saw them break up their group. I slipped the bartender my tab and tried to slip away before they reached me to do their bidding. As I turned around, one of them with a gray striped suit shoved me. I braced my hand against the bar to see if another was coming as my other hand reached for its gun. The one with the grey suit stated firmly, "My name is Larry. What are you doing in my bar?" He had a thick Italian accent. "We don't like the fuzz."

Suspecting it was a prominent Mafia man standing in front of me, I watched my words. "well, I was just --." He cut me off.

"Who are you that you can just waltz into my bar?"

"I was just leaving, I said trying to regain my integrity and stand up to them. "What are Italians doing owning an Irish pub?"

That was the wrong thing to say. He quickly pivoted my way, pointed to me and said in a sharp voice, "What's a cop doing in my bar? I saw your badge resting on your dashboard."

I didn't know what to say, but I spoke anyway. "I hope you can cover my tab."

He burst into anger. "you better watch your mouth little man, " he said. He seemed to calm down, but he turned around and took out a gun from inside his jacket.

I ws staring down a barrel of a loaded gun. The room got dead silent and then rose to the previous volume, like it was a common thing there. Two grunts walked on either side of me and held me down with a tight grip. Larry pulled my gun out and placed it on the table behind him. The man with the big cigar came up to me and smiled. He stood right next to Larry and approached me with swinging arms as Larry raised his gun and lowered it. I felt relief, but tightened up again right before a swinging fist cruised its way into my jaw.

Blood started to seep out my mouth and trickle down my neck. Another punch hit me in the stomach