Page 38 of Saving Grace

“Boss, we got a situation,”

A low growl rumbled from my Grandfather’s chest.

Even standing a good five feet away I could hear it.

Tank heard it too. His dark gaze slid to my Grandfather for half a second, then back to me, dismissing him all together. Tank didn’t fear my Grandfather like the other men who worked for me did. He had told me as much using one of the many proverbs he seemed to pull from thin air. “The eyes that have beheld the chief don’t fear the court official.”

He said one day I would realize I was the chief and everybody else were nothing more than lowly court officials. I didn’t understand then, but years later it was starting to make sense. The empire my Grandfather built would have ceased being the powerhouse it was years ago without me. Everybody knew that. He was too old school to play mafia games in a world full of people and technology he didn’t understand.

Grandfather cleared his throat.”Nipote,” he called trying to redirect my attention.

I ignored him. He was too fucking impatient these days. But I didn’t give a fuck. If he wanted the poor fuck he had dragged me out of town to kill over a couple hundred thousand dollars dead. He could kill him himself or wait. I didn’t even agree with the punishment. It would only cause trouble. The guy’s family wasn’t as well connected or as powerful as us, but I still didn’t want to go to war with them over such a measly amount of money.

“What is it?” I nodded for Tank to tell me what was urgent enough to interrupt me for.

It was odd that instead of speaking freely he made his way over to me, came to a stop at my side.

He lowered his voice so only I could hear, “You told me not to mention her, but…”

Atticus

Nine hours had passed since the car accident I found out Grace had been in. Seven before I found out, then it took us another two hours to make it to the hospital she had been taken to in a small city in the middle of bumfuck, Michigan. It was the longest two hours of my life.

After being directed to the waiting room by the nurse at the front desk. I sat thinking about what I’d do in a world without Grace. She was still in surgery, alive, but she still could die.

Though we had now been apart more time we'd been together, I still held hope that one day we’d have our happily ever after. Now the chances of that were slim if she was as badly hurt as the police reports I had Tank pay for said.

I wanted to rage. Break something. Shoot somebody. I calmed myself by reminding myself where I was. Other people were there, doing the same as me, mourning and praying. I wouldn’t make their pain worse by acting out.

Tank stood in the corner, making the few people in the area with us stare up at him with worried expression masking their face. He was used to drawing curious onlookers.

“Friends and family of Grace Devereux,” a middle-aged blond man in a white coat called out. I stood and made my way over to him, a pretty Black nurse stood at his side.

She eyed me suspiciously, looked around the room, then back to me, then Tank who stood behind me. She gave me an odd look before asking me “Where's Mrs. Joyce and AJ?” I shrugged wondering who they were. The nurse occupying the nurses station answered her question. “Let me page her. They went down to the cafeteria. AJ was getting anxious. I told her I would call them when surgery was over.”

“Paging Joyce,” she sent out over the loudspeaker. I waited for answers.

The nurse sensed my impatience and spoke up.

“We have to wait for Mrs. Joyce. We’re only legally allowed to disclose her information to family. And since I’ve never seen or heard of you before, we can’t inform you of anything.” she spat snidely.

I didn’t understand her attitude but it pissed me off.

I fisted and unfisted my hand to hold onto my temper.

The nurse stared me down, daring me to challenge her.

I remained silent, glaring back at her.

The standoff made everybody tense.

The doctor looked everywhere but at me.

Occupants in the waiting room stared at us.

The nurse refused to back down.

The elevator dinged, drawing everyone’s attention. A petite older woman got off holding a child. A boy in khaki cargo paints and white airforce ones on his feet. He looked entirely too big for her to be carrying. I blinked hard when my eyes landed on her face. She looked so much like Grace’s grandmother I wondered if she was related to them somehow. When she looked up and saw me I could swear I saw her mouth “Oh shit.” She adjusted the child on her hip.

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