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

by Mallory Monroe

  She looked at the gun in his hand, and then looked at him. “Just be proportional,” she said.

  Mick knew what she meant. It wasn’t an offense worth anybody dying over. But she knew it was an offense, and she did want that asshole to get his. Just within reason.

  Mick put the gun inside his belt buckle, to be covered by his suit coat, as he got out of the Ferrari and made his way to the young driver’s limo. Roz saw Mick tap on the glass, she saw the young driver press down the window, and then she saw Mick lean in, undoubtedly brandishing his weapon. Then she saw Mick reach into his back pocket, pull out his wallet, and hand the young driver probably more money than he’d ever seen before in his life. The youngster gladly accepted it, got out of the limo, and took off running away from the scene. Mick had undoubtedly given him the spiel about how he’d rue the day he was born if he told a living soul, and he’d apparently been satisfied that the young man got it. Mick didn’t get in the limousine, but stood at its back door with the chauffeur’s hat he ordered the young driver to leave behind. And waited.

  Roz waited too. Not for long, however, because soon the doors to the theater opened, and Joe Ranley, among others, walked out. While the others went their separate ways, Mick opened the limo door and let Ranley in. His driver was new enough, and Ranley was arrogant enough, that he didn’t give Mick a second glance. He just got in his car.

  But instead of closing the door behind Ranley, Mick looked around, decided nobody was watching, except Rosalind, and got in behind him. The limo windows were tinted, just as the Ferrari windows were, but Roz was willing to bet that Joe wasn’t enjoying Mick’s intrusion.

  She’d win that bet. Joe Ranley wasn’t enjoying it at all. He, in fact, was baffled. “Who the fuck are you?” he angrily asked as soon as Mick got into the backseat with him, and closed the door.

  “I am the man you’re going to always insist you never met,” Mick said. He began pulling gloves from out of suit coat pocket.

  “What kind of nonsense is that? Where’s my driver? Who are you?”

  Mick pulled out brass knuckles and put them on.

  “I’ll tell you what,” the producer said and moved to get back out of the limousine. But Mick pushed him back down so hard that the producer suddenly realized this was no gag; this crazy man was serious.

  “What is this about?” he asked Mick.

  Mick finally looked Ranley squarely in his eyes. Although one of Mick’s eyes was slightly drooped and his long eyelashes made it appear as if his eyes were closed whenever he looked down, when he looked back up Ranley could still see the fire behind those eyes. Even the sleepy one.

  “What’s this about?” Ranley asked again.

  “It’s about my wife,” Mick said as he began closing and opening his fist to get just the right fit for his brass knuckles.

  Ranley frowned. “And who is your wife?” he asked.

  “Rosalind Sinatra,” Mick said, staring at Ranley. “The woman you disrespected tonight. And you know what I always say?”

  Ranley stared at Mick. Was this character for real? “What do you always say?” he asked.

  “A man who disrespects my wife,” Mick said, “is a very foolish man. A man who disrespects my wife,” he added, “has a death wish.”

  Ranley’s heart began to pound. He’d heard that Roz might have had some connection to some mob-type figures, and he was certain this man sitting across from him was one of those types. And although Ranley didn’t have mob ties, he had some street in him. Bronx-style street. He was nobody’s chump.

  As soon as he thought Mick was ready to do his damage, he decided to do a little of his own. He quickly reached down, where he kept a baseball bat, and grabbed it. But as soon as he bought it up, and thought to bang it over Mick’s head, Mick grabbed it from him easily and began beating him with it. He beat Ranley as if he was beating a rug. And Ranley was crying like a baby. He was completely humiliated.

  But just before blood began to flow, Mick threw the bat aside and began beating Ranley with his fists and brass knuckles. He aimed to make an example of this motherfucker for all of Broadway to see. It was no longer open season on Roz Sinatra. It was no longer possible for any one of those fuckers to disrespect her ever again, and expect no retribution. Mick made a spectacle of Ranley the way he had to do in the past for Rosalind. Ranley was going to be the cautionary tale.

  And when Mick finished, he gave him a warning. “Try to blackball my wife,” he warned, “and I’ll kill your ass. Nobody, and I mean nobody, mistreats my wife. Including me. Got it?”

  Ranley was quick to nod through the blood and pain.

  “Go to the cops if you choose to,” Mick warned. “But understand this,” Mick added, staring Ranley dead in his eyes. “They can’t protect you from me. But I would love for you to give it a try. I would love for you to prove me right.” Then he thought about what this man said to his wife, how he said nobody cared about how she felt or how his rash decisions affected her, and he grabbed Ranley’s head and rammed it several times against the limo’s back door. Ranley was nearly unconscious when Mick finished.

  When Mick got out of the limo, he looked across the street. One of his New York men, who handled the backup security detail on Roz while she was in town, was leaned against his car. Mick nodded. He made his way to the limousine while Mick made his way to his Ferrari. Mick’s man got behind the wheel of the limo and took off. His job was to deposit Ranley away from the lights, and to also remind him who he was dealing with.

  When he got into the Ferrari, and cranked up, he and Roz drove in silence. He glanced at his wife, and she glanced at him, but not a word was spoken until they were well on their way.

  “I hope you beat his ass,” Roz said calmly, as if it was a very personal hope.

  Mick shifted gears and picked up speed. “I did,” he said. And then he flew, without the necessity of wings, back home to Philly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two days later and Joey Sinatra was looking at his half-sister. “Why does he always pull this shit?”

  Gloria Sinatra looked at her younger half-brother. “Pull what?” she asked.

  “We’re his kids,” Joey explained. “Other than the twins, we’re the only kids he has. We all work for him. You work for him here at the office, and Teddy and I work for him in the field. But he always makes us wait to see his ass like we’re some freaking strangers! It’s stupid, man.”

  They were sitting outside their father’s office at Sinatra Industries: Gloria, Joey, and their oldest brother Teddy. Gloria was in a dress and heels. Teddy was in an Armani suit. Joey, as usual, was in oversized jeans, an oversized jersey, with a gold chain around his neck. It was just past seven at night, and they’d already been waiting for nearly an hour.

  But it was no shock to Gloria. “He had meetings all day,” she said. “That’s how it works around here. He wasn’t about to let his business associates wait to accommodate my request to see him. I’m still just an assistant around here, remember? My daughter status doesn’t work around here.”

  “Your daughter status, nor my son status for that matter, works anywhere, if you ask me,” Joey said. “At least not with him. With strangers, we’re good. Everybody respects us as Mick Sinatra’s children. But with Mick Sinatra? His ass don’t give a shit.”

  Joey was the most stubborn of all of Mick’s children. And was also slouched down in his chair. “I’m not buying it,” he said, as if somebody had said that they were. “It’s just not right. Blair Witch has been in his office for nearly fifteen minutes.” Blair Conyers was their father’s longtime executive assistant, and a woman none of them particularly cared for. “Does he put her above us, too? What’s she doing in there that long? He could have made her ass wait.”

  “She’s my boss, Joey, and she’s his head assistant,” Gloria pointed out. “He’s probably dictating to her what he wants her to do as a result of all of those meetings.”

  “You have an answer for everything,” Joey said. “Yo
u’ll forgive him anything,” he added. “He beat your ass over Will Flannigan, and you forgave him for that. When he beat my ass that time? I wasn’t forgiving shit. He had to earn my respect all over again.”

  Teddy, the one their father entrusted with the most responsibility, stood up from their threesome perch in the chairs in front of Blair’s desk, and walked over and leaned against the edge of the desk, facing his siblings. The only thing that united them was the fact that they all had the same father. None of them had the same mother. And Gloria was the only one of the three that was biracial. “I’ve got business to take care of, too,” he said, “and Joey needs to get back to the docks. I sure hope we can help, Glo, but I’m not counting on it. You know Dad.”

  Gloria understood what he meant. “I’m just happy you guys showed up. Joey told me he would be here to offer his hand of support, but I had no idea you could get away, too, Teddy. Dad has put so much on your plate. Thanks.”

  Teddy smiled a half-smile at his kid sister. They were the closest of the three siblings, and he loved her dearly. But even he doubted this attempt by her was going to change their father’s mind. Mainly because, of the threesome, Teddy also knew their father the best.

  His office door finally opened, and Blair Conyers stepped outside. She was an attractive, but arrogant woman that Joey especially despised. “Get off of my desk,” were the first words she spoke when she walked out of the office.

  But Teddy, who wasn’t intimidated by her in the least, remained leaned against her desk. Blair seemed to understand that he was not the one to push, and walked behind the desk without pushing it. But instead of getting to the point, she began thumbing through a stack of papers.

  Gloria stared at her. “Blair?” she asked.

  It took a moment, but Blair looked at her.

  “When did he say we could see him?”

  “Oh, right. He’s ready to see you now,” Blair said.

  They all gave her displeasing looks, but Gloria and Joey quickly forgot about her as they stood up and made their way toward the office door. But Teddy, who only worked for his father’s crime syndicate/import and export business, but never at Sinatra Industries, stood up and gave her a sidelong look. “Try that shit again,” he said to her. She seemed annoyed that he would speak to her so nastily, but Teddy wanted to make himself clear. He didn’t play like that. Then headed into his father’s office too.

  All three entered the enormous office. They could tell their father was super-busy by the way he was leaned back in his executive chair with eyes fully focused on the papers he was reviewing. He didn’t even bother to look up.

  They all knew him well enough to wait to be acknowledged. He had been in the office all day, a rarity for him, and they could tell by the grimace on his face that it had been a long, exhausting day.

  Gloria and Joey sat in front of the desk, while Teddy walked over to the side wall and leaned against it. But even Teddy, with his elevated position in his father’s syndicate, knew to remain silent also.

  When Mick finished reading the last lines of the paperwork, he folded the pages back over. It was only then did he look at his children. In his line of work, snap judgements were as necessary as air to breathe. And although his children didn’t know his ways very well, he knew theirs extremely well.

  There was Gloria, he thought, the apple of his eye. She had grown into a gorgeous woman who looked more and more like her mother every day, but who still lacked that confidence and self-possession he wanted to see in her. Of all of his children, she had the most potential to take over S.I. someday, but she had a long way to go.

  Then there was Joey, Mick thought, as he looked from his daughter to his hip-hop, Eminem-looking son. Joey was doing better than he had been doing in the past, but that wasn’t saying much. He, too, had a long way to go before he would be up to Mick’s standards. Joey used to work at S.I., but failed miserably. His thuggish nature, like his father’s, wasn’t a fit for the stale corporate world of S.I. But it fit perfectly at the docks. His only problem was his need to blame the world for his own failures. Of all of his children, Mick understood Joey the least. Because of that fact, he was tougher on Gloria and Ted than he ever was on Joey. But Joey would never believe it.

  And then there was Teddy, Mick thought, looking at his handsome, oldest living child. Teddy was the jewel in Mick’s crown, as he was the only one of his children who had already reached the standard. Within the syndicate, he was Mick’s undisputed second-in-command. Which meant he was a very powerful man. Which meant, in the underworld, his word was almost as if Mick had spoken it himself. The problem with Teddy wasn’t his gravitas. He had plenty of weight and was well respected. The problem with Teddy was his singular focus. No woman. No life beyond the syndicate. All work the way Mick used to be. And because Mick used to be just like him, he knew it was going to be a problem.

  “Good evening,” he said to his children.

  “Hey, Pop.” That was Joey.

  “Hello, sir.” That was Gloria, who still was on duty at S.I. and therefore was expected, by Mick, to still behave that way.

  “Good evening.” That was Teddy.

  “I didn’t know all three of you wanted to meet with me.”

  “I wanted the meeting,” Gloria said. “They came to support me.”

  Mick nodded. Inwardly, he could not be more pleased by the closeness of his three oldest children. But outwardly, they would never know it. Weakness, even of the emotional variety, was not a virtue he could afford to display. He would rather his children fear him than respect him. That was the only way, he felt, to keep them out of danger. “Support you in what?” he asked.

  “In my desire to get my old job back,” Gloria said bluntly. “I want to get my job back, sir,” she added.

  Mick stared at her with that icy look they all knew so well. Even Teddy still found it unnerving. He could only imagine how Gloria felt.

  But despite that look, Gloria pressed on as she knew he would want. “I was demoted from my position as Human Resources Manager after that fiasco with Will. And I accepted my new post under Blair’s, I mean, under Miss Conyers’ supervision.”

  She hesitated. The idea that he would demote her that low still seemed unfair to her, given that she told him about Will’s schemes before they materialized. But there was a lot about her father that she was at odds with. She pressed on. “I’ve learned from my mistake,” she said, “and I feel that I’m more than ready to retake my place in middle-management. I feel I’ve lost a lot of ground I need to reclaim. I know I let you down. I let myself down even more. That’s why I’m asking for my job back.”

  Teddy thought it was a good pitch, but he could tell their father was not impressed. And he was right. Mick didn’t skip a beat. “That ship has sailed,” he said with his own style of, as Joey put it, upside-your-head bluntness.

  Gloria’s heart dropped. “You mean I won’t ever get my job back?”

  “That job? Human Resources Manager? That’s exactly what I mean. I replaced you. The man now in that position is doing his job. I’m not removing him because you decided that you’re ready to be responsible again. The world doesn’t work that way, Gloria. Not as long as I’m in it. I gave you a shot. You blew it. That’s over. If you’re asking for a promotion, then you ask for that. But HR management is not going to happen.”

  Gloria was shocked. She never expected to have that door closed completely in her face. She had once loved her position as HR Manager. Now it was over? He told her, when he demoted her, that she could rise back up in his eyes. Now he was telling her this?

  “She’s asking for a promotion then,” Teddy said, helping his sister’s cause. “Aren’t you, Glo?”

  Gloria, regaining her footing, nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I’m asking for a promotion, sir,” she said.

  Mick stared at her. That alliance she had with Will Flannigan, an alliance that forced him to take matters into his own hands, was a wound that was not yet healed to Mick. And Gloria, he
felt, if she was ever going to rise like the phoenix he knew she could be, had to understand that. “Not yet,” he said to her. Joey and Teddy were as shocked as Gloria was.

  “Not yet?” she asked. Then suddenly, she let her professional guard down. “What more do you expect me to do, Daddy?”

  Mick’s heart broke a little when she called him by that name. But he knew, in the end, he was doing her a favor. “What more do I expect from you?” he asked. “Don’t ask me a question like that. What the fuck have you done, is the better question. Tell me what you’ve done to deserve a promotion. Tell me why I should promote you over everybody else in this organization. Tell me that, Gloria.”

  Teddy and Joey looked at Gloria. They desperately wanted to help her, but they didn’t know what to say either.

  “I work hard,” Gloria finally said.

  “Everybody in my organization works hard,” Mick responded, “or they wouldn’t be here.”

  Gloria’s anger was rising. “Working under Blair Conyers is not easy, but I have been a team player.”

  “That’s expected of everyone too,” said Mick.

  Gloria stared at him as she inwardly struggled to come up with a compelling reason why she, above everybody else, should get a promotion.

  Mick could see the hurt and pain in her pretty eyes. He could even feel her pain. But she had to understand something. “I run a business,” he said. “A major corporation. My ass will be out of business tomorrow if I allowed you or any of my other children to play the kid card. I’ve watched you closely after I demoted you. You think I forgot about you? I’ve watched. But what did I see? I saw a hardworking young woman doing her job. I see that on every floor in this organization on every day of the week. Have you developed a new program for S.I. to consider the way one other young lady just did? Have you made suggestions for better service delivery the way another one did? Or have you come to work, did what you were required to do, and gone home? And that somehow translates in your mind that you’re ready to be promoted? What would be my reason? And equally important, if you weren’t my daughter, would you have even had the nerve to come in here at all?”