Page 88 of The Boss

“Not yet.”

I turned my head toward him. “I don’t care what it takes. Find him.”

“Don’t worry. I will. That much I promise you.”

“As requested, the funeral is in a couple days. It was announced in the news this morning,” Havros told me.

I’d known that as soon as we’d been brought in the evening before. “Are all the arrangements in place?”

“Yes.”

What I didn’t like was the location of the actual burial. While the cemetery was positioned on a beautiful plot of land with a spectacular view, it was also very much out in the open. Granted, using publicity as a lure was part of the game, but not at a funeral. The day would be difficult enough for all of us, my parents especially.

My mother had contacted our chef while midflight, arranging for a catered event for all those determined to pay their condolences. In my mind, it was merely a chance to see others of wealth and good fortune suffering. I wouldn’t attempt to try to convince my mother it wasn’t in our best interest. She needed to grieve and I refused to be considered the terrible son.

“We need to remain on guard,” I told them.

“A large group of my men will be present,” Havros said as he studied Willow’s sleeping form. “The press is all over your involvement with her.”

“As I knew they’d be.”

Christos leaned against the glass. “Are you certain creating all that publicity was a good idea?”

At this point, I wasn’t, but I refused to admit that to anyone. “The bait will be claimed and I’ll be there when it is.”

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, including with Willow’s life. Are you that willing to risk it?” Havros turned toward me, his eyes searching mine.

“There is no other choice.”

Especially now given the attack by air in broad daylight. In the eighteen hours since our safe return, there’d been no chatter whatsoever. Either the attempted murder hadn’t been brought to anyone’s attention or they’d been paid well to keep their mouths shut. I’d paid the harbor master to keep his. Defying me would alter his course for the future. However, our rescue had brought a crowd to the dock. There’d been no way to stop pictures from being taken.

We stood in silence, but I sensed my father’s approach before I noticed him. I’d already been told my parents had returned for the upcoming funeral, both still devastated by the news. They’d pushed hard to return, ignoring my request to stay away so they’d be safe. Maybe it was better we were all together.

At first, neither one of my parents said a word, but their expression highlighted just how close our family had been through the years.

My mother’s face illuminated the hundreds of tears she’d shed, the area under her red eyes puffy. While my father had always carried a poker face, today he appeared haggard.

I remained where I was, my hands still in my pockets where they’d been for a full hour. I’d done nothing more than sit by her bed and stand by the window when the nurse had shooed meout. While Willow needed rest, I’d made a promise I’d protect her at all costs.

And I’d failed.

That would never happen again, so help me God.

“Son,” Pops said as he took a step closer.

Apollo Dimitrios was a powerful man even now, the number of gray hairs and his difficulty breathing from years of indulging in cigars unable to diminish his ruthless behavior. Or his reputation.

He stopped long enough to acknowledge my brothers before advancing, throwing his arms around me. “O gios mou. Dóxa ston Theó pou eísai zontanós.”

My son. Praise be to God you’re alive.

The words were cathartic. How many times had we stood as a family in this very hospital, wondering if the man would live or die?

I shot a glare toward Havros who shrugged. I’d insisted my brothers not mention the plane wreck. “I’m fine, Pops. Just a little banged up.”

He pulled back, his grip on my arm painful. With his eyebrow lifted, I could tell he sensed I was in agony, but not from any injuries sustained.

“You’re a strong boy,” he said. To him, I would always be his firstborn. “You’re getting married.”

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