Page 52 of The Greek's Retribution

The guard bows his head, then exits.

“My apologies, Trappa. We had another meeting scheduled after you and it seems time has gotten away from us,” Zar shares, standing.

“It’s cool,” Trappa returns, standing as well. “You have my number, call if you need us.”

“Thanks man, we appreciate it,” Zar says just as O’Rourke enters with his partner Byrne.

“Balthazar Kourakos,” O’Rourke greets, smiling like a leprechaun who just found his pot of gold.

Brogan O’Rourke is the Captain of the Irish Mafia here in Dallas. Thanks to the good business relationship his grandfather and Sebastian had in the past, he and Zar were able to keep it going. It’s a good thing too because, Brogan has a way about him that is sometimes hard to read. Something wicked hides behind the hulking Irish’s green eyes and not to mention his fiery red hair. He reminded me of the pro wrestler Seamus, but with longer hair and tanned skin. Rory Byrne is what the Irish Mafia calls a Clan Chief. He’s Brogan’s Underboss and just as ruthless looking as his boss.

“How are you doing, Brogan?” Zar asks, walking over to him, then shakes his hand.

Brogan chuckles. “I’m good, how about yourself?”

“Never better,” Zar replies as he lets Brogan’s hand go, then shakes Rory’s. “Rory”

“Balthazar,” Rory returns.

Brogan observes Trappa and his men in the room, then asks, “Are we interrupting something?”

“No, not at all. Brogan, Rory this is Trappa, a close friend of the family. Trappa, this is Brogan O’Rourke and Rory Byrne, two of my business associates,” Zar introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” Brogan says, offering his hand to Trappa with his creepy smile. “Any friend of Zar’s is a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

Zar grips Trappa’s shoulder as he releases Brogan’s hand. “Trappa, I’ll be in touch,” Zar says just as the sound of gunshots are heard coming from the back of the club.

“What the hell?” I yell.

Everyone goes for their guns as one of the guards stumbles into the conference room, holding his bloody left arm.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Zar booms.

The guard catches his breath, then replies, “We’re under attack!”

“No, shit Sherlock,” Alistair sneers. “So, why the fuck are you in here instead of out there with the other men?”

The guard swallows hard as he takes in Alistair’s angry expression. “I, I came to let the Boss know and I was shot.”

“You think we can’t hear that shit?” I bark.

Brogan cranes his neck around to Zar. “Never better, huh? From what I hear outside, sounds like shit is pretty bad.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Looks like we’ll have to reschedule our meeting. At the moment, we have other pressing issues to take care of,” Zar states, then grins. “But you’re more than welcome to stay for the festivities.”

Brogan’s eyes twinkle as he pulls out two chrome Ruger SR40c from the inside of his suit jacket. “Now, how can I turn down such an offer?”

“Trappa, you down,” I playfully ask.

“I’m always down,” he returns, pulling a sawed off double barrel shotgun from his baggy pants. Frick and Frack do the same, brandishing semi-automatic weapons.

The rest of us draw our weapons as I go over to the wounded guard.

“I know you’re right handed, so get your ass back out there!”

Pushing him out the door, I take the lead with the others behind me.

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