When I don’t respond and start to write on his chart, I can see the way his frown morphs into a smirk. He thinks I’m a challenge. “You have quite an impressive career in nursing. I could use someone like you on my payroll.”
“No,” I respond, slapping the folder closed and putting it away before pasting on a gracious smile. “Thank you, though. I sincerely hope you continue to heal well and feel better soon. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Bianchi. Nico.” I also nod to his second on my way out the door.
My hands automatically reach for the hand sanitizer, and I rub it in vigorously while practically running from this wing. I wouldn’t put it past him to send his goons after me. I make it free and clear back to the nurses’ station and finish out my day. I’m already making plans for after work when I receive an email from my supervisor requesting that I stop by her office. My face flushes, and my chest heats with anger. I already know what this is going to be about.
Walking briskly into her office, I notice that two of the attending doctors are also there, including Brody. He looks upset, his jaw locked, and he won’t make eye contact. “You wanted to see me, Sera?”
My supervisor, Sera Mitchell, is elegant, middle-aged, and cutthroat when she needs to be. No one was surprised when she took the chief position of the hospital, except for the male contenders she was up against. They severely underestimated her. I know better than to take her small smile at face value; I can see the wheels turning in her head the second I step in the door.
“Yes, Winnie, thanks for stopping by after your busy shift. I won’t take up much of your time. I know you probably have plans.”
I stay quiet because I don’t have plans, more like standing appointments with Bruce, my Krav Maga instructor, and a wine and chat night with Lyric. “No problem. What’s this about?”
Sera looks to Dr. Rossi, then to Brody, who holds up his hands. “This is your meeting,” he says, and my defenses slide into place. Sera pinches her nose and sighs. “Some of the other board members have taken a payment from the Bianchi family with a promise to fulfill their one request. The request is that you be his home health nurse for the next 4-6 weeks while he recovers.”
“That’s illegal for one and highly unethical. Since when does an ER nurse provide home care to a mafia family for money?” I argue. Her eyes widen a fraction like she didn’t expect me to know who Mr. Bianchi is, or to argue with her. Dr. Rossi and Brody are both now staring at the floor.
Sera adjusts her suit jacket and her white coat, clearing her throat. “Be that as it may, the request was already approved by the board. It’s a short time that this will be required of you, Winnie. You won’t lose your job here. You’ll still earn a paycheck, and this won’t touch your paid time off either. I admit it doesn’t sound the best, but think of what we can buy for the hospital with that money. Our NICU is really hoping to get a large chunk to build more on their addition and get the new heat machine they wanted.”
“Do I have a choice? Is my safety a factor in this at all?” I retort, keeping my voice calm even though I’m frazzled underneath.
Sera has the decency to at least look a little flustered over the accusation. “Of course. Your safety has already been discussed. You’ll report to Dr. Graham before and after every shift. You aren’t living at the home by any means. Special transportation has also been assigned.”
“Oh, great. At least maybe the car will be bulletproof,” I scoff. Brody chuckles, and for the first time, Dr. Rossi breaks character as well.
“Sera, this is absurd,” he tries, but she waves him off.
“It’s out of our hands. Winnie, I hear you. Connect with Dr. Graham to make a schedule that makes you feel most safe. I’m afraid there really is no other option.” She tosses her hands in the air before sitting down behind her desk again. Her eyes slide among the three of us. “You’re all dismissed.”
Brody grabs my arm and tugs me along and out the door. I let him keep going until we reach the on-call rooms, and he pushes me inside one. I can feel myself shutting down. The numbness is starting to push in. The familiarity of it is not lost on me. I was used to living day to day in fear, with the unknown. Ten years ago, it was exciting, new, and I felt invincible. Then I grew up and realized how unhealthy it was to be constantly looking over my shoulder. Only this time, I don’t have Finn or the club at my back. I am completely alone.
“This is bad, isn’t it?” Brody asks, his arms folded over his chest. He’s about six foot one and weighs about the same as Mr. Bianchi, I would guess. Where the mob boss is lean muscle, Brody is lean like he plays too many video games in his spare time.
I watch Brody’s features tighten and the panic that starts to draw between his brows. No matter what happens, I can’t bringmy friends into this. So far, the Bianchis haven’t discovered my ties to the Rebels, and I hope to keep it that way. It's only 4-6 weeks. Four for sure because I’m going to do such a stellar job nursing him back to health that the additional weeks won’t be necessary. With my mind made up, I step up to Brody and tap his shoulder gently.
“It will be fine.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but I quickly scoop up my bag and exit the room around him. My hands and legs are twitching with the need for release. I hope Bruce is ready tonight. I’m in the mood to kick some ass and obtain some bruises of my own. I quickly tap out a text to Lyric, too.
ME: 911. I have some tea later. Don’t forget your wine for this one.
DOC: Already stocked up. This must be huge if it’s 911.
ME: You have no idea.
Chapter 17
Winnie, 3 weeks later
Life in a mafia mansion is absolutely all it’s cracked up to be. I may only be here four hours each day, but when I am here, I’m treated like royalty. Someone cooks for me, makes my favorite desserts, my medical room is always stocked, and I’ve been given free access to the amenities in the house, including the pool, hot tub, sauna, and gardens. Not that I take the time to use them or appreciate them. My integrity is my most important weapon right now. I will continue to maintain that I’m here for a job and only my job despite the way Marco keeps pushing me for more. More time, more days, more communicating with him and less with Nico. Each day, I clean and care for Marco’s head wound and incision from his surgery. I check his vitals and make sure he is gaining his stability back without experiencing pain, side effects, or complications. Then I usually put off his attempts to get me to join him for dinner or a swim before going home. The first day I was here, he complained of blurry eyesight, but that has thankfully subsided. I blamed it on his inability to put down his phone when he should be resting. His answer was to tell me that if I provided better entertainment, he would put down the phone.
True to the promise that I made to myself, I will be done with his care in one more week. I’ve already sent the discharge info to him as well as my supervisor. He will no longer need someone to assist him, and he is healed and in good health to make a full recovery. I can’t wait to escape this place and the growing unease and tension coming from my patient.
These thoughts add a little pep in my step on my way through the mansion. On my first day, I was given strict instructions on where I can go and which areas are prohibited to me. I also signed an NDA and was more or less threatened that anything I see happen here, I do not see or report. Not that they have anything to worry about. I do my job and go home. Despite Marco’s various efforts to get me to stay, or travel with him to New York, I turn down every overture. At first, he would smile and joke with me about it, but recently I’ve noticed all my refusals are causing his eyes to narrow and his jaw to tense up. Both of which I pretend I don’t notice. The one and only gift I accepted from him was bubble gum pink scrubs that I was given on my fifth day after spilling my coffee on my original scrubs. Plus, they’re pink, so sue me for keeping them.
My watch vibrates once on my wrist, and I see the incoming nightly text from Brody, making sure I’m almost done with my shift.
ME: Yup. I just have to finish cutting up tomorrow’s gauze, then I’m heading out. My car is already on the way.
