If they only knew.

Lou Ceefer, my uncle, wasn’t much for subtle. Of course, when you’re the Devil, you don’t have to be. That’s why he sent me.

He’d ordered a torch job on a speakeasy Moran had just opened, right across the north-south line. In a better neighborhood, with the cops on the take, Bugs’ place was drawing Capone’s regulars and their money across the split. That didn’t sit well with Capone.

Don’t let it ever be said that Lucifer doesn’t look out for his own. You make a deal with the Devil, you can bet your soul he holds up his end of the bargain.

I’d been casing the place, waiting for the night crowd to finally drift home, when Paulie cruised past. On foot, trying to be inconspicuous, I couldn’t get off the street before the headlights hit me. On my way toward the club at four a.m., Paulie stopped to take a closer look. We’d bumped into each other a few times, so he recognized me. He knew I wasn’t out sampling the night life. That’s when I got to be cozy with Tommy.

Fortunately for me, Paulie isn’t smart enough to figure out who Uncle Lou is, let alone put it together he isn’t human, or that, by extension, neither am I. While a machine gun burst in the mouth would hurt worse than President Harding’s economic policies, it wouldn’t be fatal. Messy, certainly, but not deadly. Sure, I’d be on a liquid diet for a day or two, but I’d get over it.

Paulie probably thought I was just some punk kid following my uncle into the business. Guess he figured he could scare me a little and maybe I’d beg Lou to back off, afraid I’d get hurt or something. He’d thought wrong.

As the Ford roared to life outside the empty speakeasy, I waved to Bugs’ goons, keeping the dumb smile on my face. It’s always best if people think you’re slow.

I strolled toward the driver’s side, casually stuffing my hands into my coat. “Hey, Paulie, you think Bugs might need another guy? You know, some extra muscle, or something?” It also helped if they thought you were a coward.