Mick Sinatra: No Love. No Peace. (The Mick Sinatra Series Book 9)

by Mallory Monroe

  Bella smiled. Maybe this would end the questions? “Yes, he does,” she said.

  “I just wish he would love me more,” Gloria said, and Bella’s heart dropped again. She grabbed her daughter’s tiny hand and squeezed it. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and they waited.

  It was nightfall and forty minutes later by the time Mick drove up the long, narrow driveway that led to his bungalow-styled home. When he saw the Audi parked at the top of the driveway, he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Shit!” he said out loud. He’d forgotten again.

  Bella and Gloria stepped out of the Audi as soon as the Trans Am came to a halt. Little Gloria wanted to run up and hug her Dad so badly that she could hardly contain herself. But he wasn’t that kind of Dad, and even at her very young age she knew it. He was nothing like her playmates’ fathers. You couldn’t just run up to him the way she could run up to her mother, say, or her grandparents. Besides, she was upset with him just like her mother was upset. He had stood her up again.

  Mick removed the gun on his person and slipped it beneath his front seat. Then he got out of his sportscar and made his way toward his ex-girlfriend and their little daughter. He hadn’t seen the little girl in months, and still managed to forget that he promised to go see her today. His life was fucked up. He was fucked up. Why in hell did he bring children in his fucked-up world?

  And Bella, looking hot as fire in every way, just stood there like she was ready to go off on him if he even thought about saying the wrong thing. She moved Gloria in front of her, as if to make sure their daughter was exhibit A on what a lousy man and father he really was. But he already knew that shit himself. He looked away from Bella, and at his little girl.

  He knelt down to her. “Hey,” he said to Gloria with a smile that didn’t come natural for him. “How are you?”

  Gloria ran her hand along the lapel of his leather coat. She didn’t say anything. She might cry if she did.

  Mick could see the emotions all over her pretty brown face. And it made him feel even worse than he already did. He knew he was the reason for her pain. He lifted her up into his arms, and held her for a long time, and then stood to his feet. Gloria laid her head on his shoulder and fought back tears. She wrapped her small arms around his neck. He looked at Bella, who was still fuming he could tell, and then carried Gloria toward his front door. Bella followed them.

  Once inside the well-appointed home, Mick sat his daughter back on her feet. Then he knelt down to her level. “I’ve got something for you,” he said. “Would you like to see what?”

  This cheered Gloria right up. She loved her father’s gifts! “Yes, please,” she said excitedly.

  “Follow me,” Mick said, as he locked his front door and then made his way down the narrow hall that led to a room in the back of the home. Gloria and Bella followed him.

  Inside the room was a plethora of toys, including a riding horse toy and several Barbie dolls. Gloria’s eyes stretched as if it was Christmas, and she immediately ran and got on the horse.

  “Be careful, Glo,” Bella warned their daughter, but even she knew she was wasting her breath. Gloria was in Santa Claus zone. All she could see was all the fun and games.

  Bella looked at Mick amazed. “When in the world did you get all of this?” she asked.

  “When I told you I was going to come and get her. I had every intention of doing it, Belle, whether you believe me or not. I just . . . forgot.”

  “You forgot your own daughter,” Bella said in an accusatory tone. “What else is new?”

  “Fuck you,” Mick said angrily, but then rolled his eyes when he realized their child could hear his foul mouth. He therefore moved away from Bella, and focused on his little girl.

  For several minutes Mick stood there with delight as he watched Gloria play. Bella stood around, too. Mick knew why she stayed and didn’t just leave. She’d never admit it, but he knew what she wanted. But they both stood there, and enjoyed their daughter’s joy.

  Then Bella looked at Mick. She wished he wasn’t so damn sexy! “Where were you?” she asked. “Sleeping around with some skank?”

  Mick ignored her.

  “Where were you, player?” Bella asked him again. “Who could possibly be more important than your own child?”

  Mick gave her a look that was meant to convey how sick and tired he was of her bullshit, but then he saw her body. She wasn’t a well sought-after model for no reason. He became horny as hell.

  As Gloria ran from toy to toy and then back to the previous toys she had been playing with, Mick touched Bella’s elbow. “Come here,” he said, and headed out of the room.

  Bella knew what come here meant. There wasn’t a time that he didn’t come to see their daughter, or she didn’t take their daughter to see him, when she didn’t foolishly let him fuck her. If his stuff wasn’t so damn good she wouldn’t allow it even once after their breakup. But his stuff was just that good. She ordered Gloria to stay in the room while she and daddy went and talked, closed the door behind her, and followed Mick to the bedroom just off of the living room.

  As soon as Bella walked in, Mick slammed the door shut, threw her against the door, and began kissing her. Bella kissed him with an equally passionate kiss, as he began unbuttoning her blouse, but then she realized the craziness of what they were doing and she pushed him away from her. “Sleepy-eye motherfucker!” she said angrily to him.

  But then he removed his jacket, his shirt and shoes, and unzipped and stepped out of his trousers and briefs. He was naked before her, and was now jerking on a penis that made her entire body feel the heat. His fine ass was naked before her! And like every other time in their entire relationship, she caved. She pulled him back to her, and kissed him just as vigorously.

  Mick ripped the seat of the panties beneath her dress, and began to finger her as he kissed her. She wrapped her legs around him as he moved slightly over to the dresser beside the door, opened a drawer and pulled out one of the stockpile of condoms he kept in every corner of his home. He put it on. Then he rammed his dick inside of her and fucked her hard. He wasn’t trying to be gentle or kind or even loving. He wouldn’t know how to be any of those things if he tried. He just wanted to get off.

  And he did. Bella was just getting into it. She was just feeling the sensations of his strokes when he allowed himself to cum. That was what she hated about Mick! She wasn’t his queen. He never treated her as if she was above any of those other hoes he fucked. He was treating her like she was some damn quickie and it irked her. She knew Mick had total control over his body when it came to orgasms. He could make his shit last for a couple minutes, or damn-near a couple hours. But he was cumming already.

  She should have pulled him out of her in the midst of his cum. That would teach his ass not to treat her like one of his tricks. But he was still stroking her, and his strokes felt too good. She closed her eyes and experienced those strokes, forgetting the disrespectful way Mick was known to treat all of his women, and she found herself cumming, too.

  When the thrills began to ebb for both of them, and Mick couldn’t stroke anymore, he leaned against her exhausted. He looked at Bella. He’d always love her, and he knew it. But being with her, as he knew she still wanted despite her anger, was out of the question. Her crazy-ass temper and his crazy-ass temper would be like fire on gasoline. He wasn’t ever going to strike that match. Besides, the woman he married, if he ever went down that road, had to be something super-special. Bella was nowhere near that girl. There was probably no girl alive, Mick also knew, who was.

  Bella knew it, too, as she stared at him. They could never get along for one hour, let along for a lifetime. But damn if he wasn’t the sexiest man she’d ever been with. And the way he fucked! Even quickies. To her everlasting shame, she wanted him inside of her again. She wanted that sleepy-eyed, slick-ass motherfucker again! She pushed him away from her angrily, because she wanted him.

  But the sound of a kick was suddenly heard. It was the so
und of a shoe kicking against his front door.

  Mick quickly ran to his nightstand and pulled out two of his numerous loaded guns he kept there. He opened the bedroom door, and handed Bella one of those guns. “Go to Gloria,” he ordered her. “Lock the door and keep your ass inside of that room! Shoot anybody who comes in there, unless it’s me.”

  He didn’t have to tell Bella twice. She knew the illegal trade he conducted on a daily basis. She knew he used to keep her well-endowed with Gucci and every brand name known to man, and that Audi she drove, because of that illegal trade. She ran out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the room with Gloria.

  Just as she locked the door, Mick’s front door was kicked in and a group of men Mick had never seen before, came rushing in.

  Mick was able to take out the first two men with his first two shots, and there was some satisfaction in that victory. But the additional firepower quickly overwhelmed him. He dived behind the sofa and began shooting from that defensive, and weakened position. But his ass had no choice. It was kill or be killed in that very moment, and he wasn’t about to be the one on the bad end of that night. Not with his daughter in that house too. He fought valiantly. But he was woefully outgunned.

  Mick took out two more men before the other four were quickly advancing on him. One of the four even headed for the backside of the sofa, to ambush Mick. Mick was too busy defending the front, and was about to turn around to check behind him, but the man was already there. And had pointed his gun ready to fire. But the men in front of Mick was about to fire, too, and Mick knew he couldn’t take them all. It was mathematically impossible! So he took out the two of the men in front of him, and tried to roll away from what he knew was certain to be gunfire from behind him, get on his back, and fire again.

  But gunfire could suddenly be heard from the front entrance. The man advancing from the backside as Mick defended the front side was shot and killed by the sudden appearance of a gunman at Mick’s front door. Mick was able to then take out the last of the men advancing on him from the front. He took out the last shooter.

  When Mick lifted his head up with his weapon ready to fire, the gunman at the door lifted his arms in the air with his smoking gun lifted high as well. “Don’t shoot,” he said. “I come in peace.”

  When Mick realized the man on the other end of the gun was Santo Vichy, relief rushed over him and he slumped against the sofa. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked as he stood to his feet.

  “One of our guys got word that Jacky had planned a retaliatory strike on you tonight. I came over to warn you. I called your cell phone,” he added as he looked down at Mick’s naked body and saw his still wet penis, “but apparently you were preoccupied.”

  Mick would have smiled. Santo had jokes like that. But knew he needed to reassure Bella and Glo. “Call for a cleanup crew,” he ordered Santo as he hurried into the bedroom, put on his pants, and then made his way to the room in the back of his house.

  When he got into the room and unlocked the door, Bella had Gloria huddled in the closet.

  “Everything’s alright, Belle,” he said. “You can come out now.”

  Bella, relieved, got herself and their daughter out of the closet.

  Gloria tore away from her mother and went and hugged her father. “Daddy!” she cried, as if she was as relieved to see him again as he was to see her. She’d heard all of that gunfire.

  But Bella wasn’t nearly as forgiving. She was disgusted. “Mick, honestly! You allow this shit to come around our daughter?”

  When Mick didn’t respond with equal venom, she became enraged. “What do you have to say now?” she asked. “Do you have anything to say about what just happened here?”

  “I’ve got plenty to say,” Mick responded.

  “You apologize to our daughter,” Bella ordered. “That’s what you need to say!”

  But Mick’s anger flared at Bella. “You don’t tell me what I need to say, bitch!”

  “Just say what you need to say, Mick. Damn!”

  “Never let a fucker live,” Mick said. “That’s what I need to say. I should have killed Jacky’s ass while I could.”

  Bella couldn’t believe it. That was the lesson he learned? That was what he took from having his little girl in a house under siege? She pulled Gloria away from Mick, lifted her into her arms, and hurried her away from him.

  “Go out the backdoor,” he ordered Bella. “Don’t let her see that shit up front.”

  As Bella hurried toward the backdoor, mainly because she didn’t want to see the carnage either, Gloria looked back, scared and confused, at her neglectful, absent, but still, to her eyes, heroic father.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Years Later

  Present Day

  It was a cold and damp night at the docks as the speeding GTC4Lusso Ferrari drove into the parking lot. Teddy Sinatra, Mick’s oldest living child and the second-in-command of his syndicate, was standing in the lot waiting for him. In stark contrast to the blue-collar harshness of the entire waterfront area, Teddy was dressed in a John Ford suit and tie, looking like a square in a circle. But when his father got out of his Ferrari, in his Armani suit and tie, in his Ferragamo dress shoes, he took contrast to an entirely different level. He looked like a corporate CEO who wouldn’t be caught dead in such a dark, dank, and grime-filled place. But everybody who knew Mick knew better. He’d been caught in far worse places than this.

  “Where is he?” Mick asked as soon as he closed his car door.

  “On the ship,” Teddy said.

  “And the cops?”

  “On there, too.”

  “Can they be bought?”

  Teddy had to think about this. “Hard to say,” he said. “They aren’t our usual guys. But I told them you wanted to talk to them first, so they didn’t call it in yet. So that’s a good sign, I guess. But you know like I know, Pop: you can never tell with cops.”

  Mick knew that was the truth, too. Some had morals that were rock solid: men Mick respected, because an officer of the law should have those kinds of morals. But there were those other cops, the ones Mick was more familiar with, whose morals were of the putty variety: flexible, in other words. But you could never tell to look at them. Mick made that mistake, a time or two, in his younger days.

  He buttoned his suit coat, and then, with Teddy on his heels, made his way toward his ship. He owned several at the docks. Big, transport ships. He was, after all, a giant in the import/export business that on the surface was legit, but was really just a front for his illegal gun-running operation. Cops anywhere near his ships were a problem. Cops on his ships were a serious situation. He walked down into the ship’s hull, understanding the difference.

  When he and Teddy stepped into a side room, Mick saw his younger son, regular hot-head Joey Sinatra, whom he had placed in charge of the docks, handcuffed in the middle of the room. Unlike Teddy, who was a well-dressed man with silky brown hair and large, green eyes like his father, Joey was the polar opposite. He was shorter than his brother and father, slimmer, and had black hair dyed blond, and dark eyes. And his clothing was more along the hip-hop, Wiz Khalifa style, complete with gold chains around his neck and tats over his body, than upscale chic. But the dead body lying on the floor in the room, with what looked like his skull crushed in, was what made all of them look out of place.

  The two uniformed officers were interviewing witnesses, all of whom were Mick’s guys. None of whom saw or heard anything. When Mick walked in, all eyes turned to him.

  Mick didn’t so much as glance at his son when all eyes turned his way, although everybody knew Joey’s predicament was why he came. But Mick, instead, kept his eyes on the cops. He was sizing them up and making a decision before they had a chance to put on a front. “Who’s in charge?” he asked.

  Both men looked at each other, as if neither one of them wanted to step out in front. But one did. The younger one. “I am,” he said.

  “Clear the room,” Mick ordered.


  Cops were not accustomed to a civilian telling them what to do so bluntly, but they didn’t live under a rock. They knew who Mick Sinatra was. They knew he ran the venture capital giant Sinatra Industries, and was a well-respected businessman around Philly. But they also knew he was dirty. They didn’t know how, or what dirtied him up. But they knew he was dirty as mud.

  The officer in charge told the witnesses they could leave.

  When the witnesses were gone and all that was left was Mick, his two sons, the two cops and the dead body, Mick got down to business. “You cannot arrest my son,” he said.

  The officer in charge found that to be an odd statement, especially since there was a dead body in the room. “I don’t think you understand, sir,” he had the balls to say.

  But Teddy had balls, too. “Watch your tongue, motherfucker,” he said. “You don’t’ talk to Mick Sinatra that way!”

  The officer was thrown. On the one hand, he was supposed to be in charge. But on the other hand, he felt as if he was anything but. He cleared his throat. “What I mean to say, sir,” he said, “is that your son got into an altercation with the victim, and unfortunately the victim is dead.”

  “He was no victim, Dad!” Joey shouted out. “He came at me! What the fuck they expect me to do?”

  Mick gave Joey a look that could melt steel. Joey knew that look well, because it could also melt him. He knew he was about to sail through that wall if he didn’t shut the fuck up. He shut up.

  Mick looked at the officers once again. He had already sized them up. They hadn’t called in the fact that they had a dead body on their hands, which already revealed their hand like Teddy said. But it was still a risk. A risk he could beat Joey’s ass for forcing him to take. But a risk he had to take nonetheless. No child of his was going to be arrested. “How much?” he asked.

  The officer, again, was thrown. “Excuse me?”

  But Mick refused to say more. If the cops wanted the money, they were going to have to ask for it. It was Mick’s way of minimizing his risk, and maximizing theirs.