Page 16 of Ride the Whirlwind

“You’ve painted a target on yours and Camlann's backs,” Douglas continued, ignoring the other man's comment. “Timothy Fitzgerald and Lawrence MacCabe are capable businessmen who will find alternative ways of financing the organization. And even if they don't, the team of experts they'll hire will.”

“I didn't think about that.” Graeme frowned. “I should have talked to someone before making that move. Since you started this discussion, what would be your advice?”

“Go to New York as planned but leave them the companies. You have plenty of money to establish new ones. I...” Douglas cleared his throat. “I may have a solution to that. Go to the Dragons' House, ask them for help.”

“Right.” Graeme snorted. “Do you know what happened last time mankind built a ladder so they could climb to the gods? It didn't end very well for the poor mortals, that's for sure. I'm not in the mood to be struck by a lightning bolt or something, if I get there, that is.”

Douglas inhaled sharply, staring into his lifelong friend's dark-blue eyes. “You'll be safe, and they will give you all the help you need,” he said, swallowing hard. “I took care of it.”

Graeme looked at his friend as if he saw him for the first time, and, in a way, he did. The determination in the man's eyes, the inflexions of his voice when he talked about the Mafia-related problems, the aura of power surrounding Douglas—none of them were there before. Or maybe they were, Graeme sighed internally, but he didn't pay enough attention to them.

The doctor dedicated his life to pleasing his protector, making him proud, initially by studying hard to become a doctor and then by sticking with him through thick and thin. As Mafia doctor, Douglas saved countless lives, indirectly helping his best friend gain the support and respect of Scottish gang leaders.

At that point, Graeme wondered how big the doctor's contribution to his achievements was, how many favors did he ask the gangsters in return for saving them from critical situations but abandoned the thought. Douglas was a secretive man, and the head of the San Francisco Scottish Mafia doubted he would get an answer to that question.

“You are worrying again, and it's bad for your blood pressure.” Douglas' amused voice made Graeme turn to his friend, who was smiling mysteriously. “Better ask me how I took care of your problem,” he continued.

“Something’s telling me I am not going to like it, but, as long as Camlann is out of harm's way, I guess anything goes.”

“I built that ladder for you. The one that goes to the dragons' celestial temple.” Douglas smirked. “I even have the key to the said temple, or better said, the keeper of the key.”

“What did you do? Please, don't tell me you kidnapped one of their men. It would unleash hell on us. They will wipe us off without even blinking,” Graeme replied, terrified at the prospect.

“One of the four leaders of the House is here, by his own choice, and will help us out of gratitude. Unfortunately, you almost compromised my plan when you allowed him to call his family and let them know he's alive.”

“But that's cruel! Why keep him here, caged like an animal, when his husband and children need him so much?” Graeme's voice was a mix of sadness and disappointment. “I didn't know you had such low moral standards.”

“Says the man who...” Douglas abruptly stopped as his friend glared warningly at him. “The Dragons' House won't attack us as long as Ardan MacNamara is a guest in your house. Go talk to him, and if he refuses to help you, I'll fly with him to New York City myself.”

CHAPTER 13

As he was heading to the guest room that served as temporary home for Ardan, Graeme thought about Douglas' solution to his problem. Although he didn't at all appreciate the method his friend used, an alliance with the powerful crime-fighting organization was the best way to get out of the complicated situation he’d landed in.

On his way there, Graeme passed by the door of Douglas' son Martens' room. The door was wide open, and there was no one inside, which the man found strange because the boy rarely left the room since he’d moved to the mansion about four weeks earlier. Shaking his head, he continued his walk when the sound of a teen boy's voice coming from Ardan's room made him stop and listen intently.

Martens. His voice was clear and crystalline, so different than the sad, low whisper that broke Graeme's heart, the stutter completely gone. Ardan was caressing the boy's cheek and he leaned into the gentle touch, eyes closed, completely relaxed in the stranger's presence, which was nothing short of a miracle.

“You should get back to your room,” Graeme heard Ardan saying in the same soft, sweet voice he used when he spoke to his husband about a week before. “Your father will check on you in about half an hour and will be worried when he sees you are not in your room.”

“I will.” Martens nodded. “But first, I'm going to tell you something.” The kid paused for a moment, breathing sharply, then continued in his usual, whispered voice. “I... I lied to Dad and Uncle Graeme. I saw the face of the man who did those things to me, but I was afraid to say his name.” The kid hugged Ardan's arm, desperately clinging to him.

“I understand. Fear often makes us do these kinds of things, although keeping the silence is not the wisest decision. You think you protect your loved ones, but, in fact, you do a favor to the bad guy, who continues to hurt innocent, defenseless people.” The man tucked a rebel strand behind the boy's ear, hugging him to his chest.

“No, this was something personal against Dad and Uncle Graeme. He said that while...” The teen swallowed hard, then continued, stuttering. “W-what happened to me...was supposed to...keep dad busy. The bad guy told me to...to kill myself, and I... the last time, I really, really wanted to...put an end to everything.”

“And let the bastard win? No, you have to fight tooth and claw for your right to live, Martens, to prove that worthless scum you are stronger than him. Talk to your uncle and father, tell them who hurt you, and let them deal with that.” Ardan's voice, although gentle, had a tinge of harshness when he talked about the boy's attacker.

“You don't understand,” the boy raised his voice, eyes wide with fear, “if I talk, then all hell breaks loose, and a lot of innocents will suffer. If Uncle Graeme and Dad would believe me, that is. You are a great guy, Ardan, and the best friend I’ve ever had, but soon, you'll go back to New York City where Spitfire and the rest of your family are waiting for you, while I...”

“Here you were, young man!” Graeme stepped into the room, arms wide open, trying to make his voice sound as cheerful as possible. “You better run to your room and play the good son, or else your father will give us hell.” He grinned, hugging the teen.

Martens nodded, disentangled from the embrace, waved to Ardan, then stepped out of the room. Graeme sighed internally and took a seat, finding it extremely hard to start the conversation, especially after what he’d just found out. The atmosphere started to become heavy and uncomfortable, so he decided to leave.

Ardan, on the other hand, waited for Graeme to start talking, so he could offer to help him. Brodie already told him about the complicated succession issue, and Martens' revelations from earlier made the story even more tangled. One thing was sure: the man saved his life, and he was going to repay him for that, Ardan thought.

He even came out with a plan but wasn't sure how Graeme would react to it. The other man started to shift uncomfortably in the chair, then rose to his feet, heading to the door, but Ardan was determined to have that conversation then and there, so he cleared his throat, making the other man turn around.

“My answer to your unspoken question is yes. I will do everything in my power to help you. If it wasn't for you and Doc Douglas, I would have been already dead, so I owe the two of you big time. I assume you heard the conversation me and Martens had, so...”

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