Four

Zephyros

Waiting rooms are torture. The smells, the sounds of hospital staff and overhead announcements, the uncomfortable vinyl cushioned chairs, and the bad vending machine coffee seem designed to make the families waiting on word of their loved ones suffer as much as possible while awaiting their fate. The last time I was in a waiting room was back in Oregon, after the "accident" that robbed me of my parents. While I know that Wynne Greenwood is not destined for the same fate that they were, I still find myself as anxious and scared as I was that night.

"Any word?" I glance up to find Brock and Sully standing just inside the doorway. 

"She's in surgery now, and they say it'll be quick," I inform them. "They don't think there will be any lasting muscle or tendon damage, but it came close to her brachial artery, so they want to make sure they are prepared for anything when they remove the bullet."

"It was O'Rourke. I saw his face." Sully seethes in the doorway, bracing himself against the vending machine with one arm. "Banion must have heard we were making moves and wanted to eliminate any competition before we could get our feet planted."

"We need to show him we won't be intimidated," I insist. "He hurt Wynnie, and I cannot let that slide. She doesn't even know she is a high value target on a good day, and I can't even begin to think of how to explain to her that this wasn't just a random drive-by shooting in gangland. I can't lose her if she finds out she can be used against me, too."

Brock grits his jaw as he thinks. "Maybe we just don't tell her. She is safer not knowing what is going on. You said she has no idea who her da really is, yeah?"

"She knows nothing. As far as she knows, she had a safe, happy, normal childhood with her safe, happy, normal family," I confirm. "I told her old man about the shooting this morning. He says he is docking my pay for the medical bills."

"Our next shipment will more than make up for that," Sully assures me. "Just don't let her da know you're the reason his little girl took a bullet. As long as he thinks he be the one to blame, he has no reason to look at you as more than a glorified bodyguard."

Senior year of high school, as I struggled to find my place as the new Don of an empire I never wanted to inherit, I was determined to live a normal life despite all the demands on my time and attention. I entrusted my men to my uncle so that I could follow Wynnie Greenwood to Seattle, enrolling in a pre-med program like we'd always daydreamed I would.

A week before we left, her father came to me in my driveway as I was washing my car. I knew, like most other made men, that his day job as a financier was a thin front for his true job, cleaning dirty money for the various criminals in our country. Officially, he worked for the Irish, but he also worked for my father and other famiglias, the Russians, the Chinese, and several cartels from different countries.

"So, you're the new Don, now, son." He wasn't asking. Men like him don't ask questions they know the answers to. "Your uncle tells me you want to play good boy for now, and I respect that. Medical training isn't a bad skill set to have in our line of work. You could save your family a lot of hush money if you can patch your men up yourself."

"I suppose. I've always wanted to be a doctor. I tried to give everything to my uncle and walk away, but he is convinced the men will only follow him if they know I'm coming back. Vito says they think he had something to do with my parents, and they don't trust him."

"Your uncle is a smart man." Declan Greenwood informs me. "You have seen and heard too much. Letting you walk away was never an option. You would be a liability. You can either sit on the throne and be a made man or die. Your way buys you time, but you still must make a choice."

"So I'm told," I say. "I just want a chance to prove that I can be something good before I am sucked back into a life of death and violence. Maybe save a few lives and pad my karma bank."

"Speaking of saving lives," Greenwood segues, "I have a proposition for you. My Wynne is a sweet girl, and I have lived my life in such a way that this world has never tainted her, never even come up on her radar. She believes our world is a thing of movies and novels. She never had reason to believe the stories were based on reality. I'd like to keep it that way."

I nod, agreeing with the older gentleman on this one topic. Wynnie has been my best friend since before we could form coherent sentences, but I've never seen a reason to confide in her about what either of our fathers really got themselves involved in. As far as she knows, my dad was a salesman, and her father is a high-finance banker. Oblivion has allowed her to blossom into the sweet, trusting, friendly girl I have always loved and cherished. She is the one thing in my life that has always been good and pure and real, and I would die to keep her that way.

"You're both going to Seattle, both going to the same school. I know you two have always been close. So, here's my proposition: You keep my baby girl safe. You make sure she takes all the pictures her heart desires, acts in whatever shows tickle her fancy, sings whatever songs flow from her heart. There are men all across the country that would use her to get to me and try to force me to work for them exclusively. You keep these men from getting to her, you keep her in the dark about this world, and I'll pay you a hundred grand a month, cash."

"Sir, I would do it for free," I confess. "You know she is the only friend I can trust, the only person that cares not just if I live or die, but if I'm happy while I do it. She will always be safe with me. I've never let it slip before; I would not let it now."

"Aye, I know. I also know money talks, and bullshit walks. I'm a man of words, myself. Take the money. Keep my angel safe."

"Yes, sir," I reach out my hand to shake on the easiest deal I've ever had to make. "I'll guard her with my life."

"I know you will, son. I know you will." He heads back down the driveway to leave. Halfway down, he turns to me, "And, Zephyros," he says as he holds my gaze with a cold stare, "If you sleep with my little girl, if you lay a single hand on her, I'll cut off your dick and your fingers and feed them to you."