“He’s unavailable right now, sir,” she said to Mick.
Mick looked at Roz. “You hear that? Guy’s on the phone, laughing and talking. But he’s unavailable. You hear that?”
“I hear it,” Roz said, equally disgusted. Then she added: “Do what you gotta do,” she said.
Mick loved her for saying that. It wasn’t that he needed her permission. He didn’t. But having somebody on his side for a change felt refreshing. And he agreed. He did what he had to do.
He opened the hatch that led inside of the nurse’s station and began walking toward the arrogant doctor.
“Sir, you can’t come in here,” the nurse proclaimed. “Sir? Sir?”
But Mick wasn’t thinking about that nurse. He walked up to the phone-happy doctor just as the doctor was turning toward him.
Stunned that a civilian had gotten this close to him, the doctor removed his ear from his cell phone. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Mick grabbed the doctor by his lab coat lapel and stood him up. The doctor’s phone dropped onto the desk.
“What is the meaning of this? You can’t manhandle me like this!”
“My name is Mick Sinatra,” Mick said. “You don’t want to fuck with me. My son is in your care, and I need to know what’s going on with him. His name is Joey Sinatra. He was the victim of a shooting. You tell me his prognosis.”
The doctor saw the hard look and distress in Mick’s eyes. He calmed down too. “He’s in bad shape,” the doctor finally said. “The bullet came within an inch of his spine. It’s going to take time for him to mend. But barring any infections or other setbacks, he should be back to normal soon enough. In a matter of weeks rather than months.”
Mick exhaled. So did Roz, who remained outside of the station.
“That’s good to hear,” Mick said. Then added: “My personal physician is on his way. He’ll supervise my son’s recovery.”
The doctor, once again, took umbrage. “Does he have privileges here? He can’t just waltz into here and supervise anything. Who is this physician?”
“Mark Blaxton,” Mick said. He knew that name would say it all.
And it did. The doctor immediately changed his tune. “Dr. Blaxton? Your personal physician is . . . Why, of course, we’ll be honored to have such an esteemed doctor on our team. We will be honored to work with him.”
Mick knew he would be. He left the nurse’s station, took Roz’s hand, and headed back to Joey’s room.
Later that night, the doors slid open and Mick and Roz emerged out of the hospital and up to a convoy of SUVs. He held her arm as he walked Roz to one of the SUVs and opened the passenger side door. Deuce McCurry was behind the wheel.
“I still wish I could stay with Joey until we’re certain he’s going to make it,” Roz said.
“I know you do,” Mick responded. “But Ted, Glo, and Adrian are staying with him. And his mother’s there. He has support there. And plenty of protection. I want you home, at my house, where I know you’ll be protected. Get in.”
He helped Roz onto the passenger seat. “You be careful, Mick.”
But Mick was more concerned about her than she could ever be about him. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry about me. You just do everything Deuce tells you to do, because if you don’t, what’s going to happen?”
Roz hated when he drilled her like this. But she knew it was coming from a place of concern. “If I don’t do exactly what Deuce tells me to do then you’ll be very upset.”
“Then I’ll beat your ass,” Mick made clear. “I mean it, Roz. No stopping by your agency to pick up any papers or going to see about some client of yours because they won’t behave at some casting call. You stay at the house until I get there. You do whatever Deuce says. Understood?”
Roz nodded with a sincere nod. “Understood.”
Mick, satisfied, leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Then he shut the door and Deuce took off. Three other vehicles drove off with them. All to protect Roz just in case what happened to Joey was not an isolated incident.
An SUV further back drove up, and Mick got inside. Danny Padrone, along with two other men, were seated in the back.
“What do we know?” Mick asked.
“He was hit while leaving the Honey Spot,” Danny said.
Mick had only vaguely heard of the place. “A strip joint?”
“In a black neighborhood, yeah. Seems your boy has a thing for black women.”
Mick looked Danny in the eye. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Danny realized his error. “Nothing. It means nothing, boss. I wasn’t trying to say because you had a black woman he has a thing for them too.”
“Then what the fuck difference does it make who he has a thing for?”
“It makes no difference,” Danny said nervously. “I didn’t mean anything by it, honest. I was just saying.”
Mick knew better than that. Danny was one of those old school Italians who viewed their ethnicity as a race onto itself and figured an Italian man should be with a good Italian girl. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. It was nonsense to Mick, but he wasn’t trying to deal with that tonight. His boy was on his mind. “Did anybody see anything?” he asked.
“Some of those strippers had to see it. It happened just outside of their dressing room, and a group of them were outside smoking at the time. But nobody wants to talk. Nobody wants to snitch. They wouldn’t tell us shit.”
“They’ll talk,” Mick said, “or fucking die.” Then he pointed forward. “Go,” he said to his driver.
Hasan Brown looked around at the crowd in the Honey Spot and was pleased that he would make his bank and then some again tonight. Even after that craziness earlier, the crowd still came out. He back-slapped and shook hands as he made his way to his office in the back. He was worried for a minute, his margins being as tight as they were, but now he felt good about it.
But as soon as he opened his office door and walked inside, his good feelings quickly turned into a sense of dread. It felt as if all of his prior bad acts were catching up with him. Because Mick was inside the office waiting at the door, and as soon as Hasan walked in, Mick grabbed him and jacked him up against the wall. Danny closed and locked the door. Mick’s two other men guarded the door.
Mick pulled out his gun and aimed it at Hasan’s eye. “My name is Mick Sinatra.”
Hasan began to nod wildly and nervously. “I know who you are,” he said.
“Your pole dancers saw who shot my son.”
“Your son?” Hasan was stunned. He thought that kid was just some thug from around the way. He had no idea! “He was your son?”
“If you don’t get them to tell me who shot him,” Mick continued, “then I will make a promise to you. And please understand. My promises, I keep. Because if you are unable to find out who it was that attempted to murder my boy, then I will murder you, them, and every fucker in this fucking place. I will shut it down, you hear me? You find out and you find out now.” Then he pushed Hasan away from him. “You’ve got two minutes,” he said.
But Hasan just stood there. He was still taking it all in. He was still too stunned to move.
“Two minutes motherfucker!” Mick yelled, and Hasan jumped startled and then sprang to life. He hurried back out of the door. Mick motioned toward the two guards at the door. They followed the club owner.
Mick walked around and sat behind the desk, with his gun at his side. Danny kept his gun visible too, as he paced the room. But he was worried on a different level. He was worried about his job. He looked at Mick. “I just want to clear something up, boss,” he said.
Mick looked at him.
“I’m not prejudice,” Danny said. “I don’t look at color at all. I was just saying it was a black club, that’s all. I wasn’t trying to say they were better or not better. I don’t think like that. And because Joey likes black women don’t mean shit to me either. They aren’t my cup of tea but that doesn’t mean I have anything against t
hem, because I don’t. I need you to understand that.”
Mick wasn’t trying to catch any of that bullshit Danny was slinging. His purpose was singular: find out who tried to ice his son. Period. Who Danny preferred or didn’t prefer was of no consequence to Mick right now. Joey was all he could think about.
And within a matter of minutes, Hasan returned with Mick’s two men. And closed the door. Mick looked at him.
“Tony LeKirk,” Hasan said.
“Who the fuck is he?” Mick asked.
“A guy that hangs around Little Italy. A really rough dude. They didn’t wanna say who he was because they knew he would take them out. He comes around here a lot.”
Mick stood up.
Hasan panicked. “But what kind of protection can you offer my girls if he comes back around here seeking revenge? He’s gonna know they told.”
Mick looked at Hasan as if he had lost his mind. “He won’t be coming around,” Mick said as if it went without saying, and then he and his men left. Hasan leaned against his desk, still shaking. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweaty neck. He’d heard of Mick the Tick for years, especially back in the day. But this was his first up close and personal encounter with him. He nearly pissed in his pants.
Tony LeKirk stuffed as much money as he could stuff into his duffel bag. He wasn’t going to be able to get it all, but he was going to get as much of it as he could possibly get. But after that phone call from one of the strippers at the Honey Spot, he knew he had to get out and get out now. The kid he iced wasn’t some random who didn’t obey the rules as he had been told. He was Mick the Tick’s son! He had no idea. Nobody told him that kid belonged to Mick Sinatra or he would have never dreamed of taking him out! He didn’t have a death wish! But it was too late now. The damage was already done and Mick knew his name. He had to leave now!
He lifted his window and got out, panic causing him to move too fast and nearly drop his bag twice. But he kept moving. He climbed down the fire escape with the overstuffed duffel bag on his back. His car was parked in the alley, well out of sight, and he was going to get out of town before Mick or any of his henchmen had a clue he knew anything.
And it worked. He jumped down from the stairs of the fire escape, ran across the back walkways through the trash and filth of the blighted urban area, and made his way to his Chevy in the alleyway. He tossed his duffel bag on the passenger seat and got in too. And he was ready to make a run for it.
But just as he was about to drive out of the alley, Mick’s SUV drove in, facing right in front of Tony’s Chevy.
“Shit!” Tony yelled, shocked that he had been found out this quickly. But then his survival skills kicked in and he threw the car in Reverse, floored the gas petal, and took off driving backwards.
Mick’s SUV drove forward, racing after him, as Tony swerved and swerved, hitting the concrete alley wall repeatedly, as he fought to make his way out. Mick, in the front seat of the SUV, didn’t want to end it this way, without the answers he sought, but he knew it would be too dangerous if he allowed that asshole to get on the open road.
“Give it to me,” Mick ordered Danny. He was not the kind of man who allowed his subordinates to do his dirty work for him. He did it himself. Danny handed him the shotgun from the backseat and he leaned out of the SUV, pumped, and fired. Two shots only. One shot hitting Tony in the throat. The second shot getting Tony between the eyes. Kill shots both.
The Chevy continued to back up as Tony slumped over until it had backed into the street, hitting an oncoming car, and came to a rest in the middle of the road. Mick’s SUV backed up this time, and out of the alley the same way they had come in. Tony LeKirk was dead. He was the who. But only Joey was going to be able to tell Mick why.
CHAPTER NINE
Roz was in Mick’s big bed sound asleep when the bedroom door opened and a very tired body walked in.
Mick didn’t come straight home after the kill. He went back to the hospital to check on his son. His condition had improved, he was breathing on his own, but there was nothing more to report. They had to give it time. Only time and a lot of prayer would tell, Mick’s doctor informed him, if young Joey stood a chance. Mick knew then that any plans he had to go to Jericho would have to be placed on hold, until his son was out of the woods.
He went into the bathroom, removed all of his clothes, and showered while Roz slept. He splayed his open hands against the shower tile and allowed the water to caress his body. He was getting too old for this shit. He knew it. But as long as they bought the shit to him, he had to shove it out of his way. And this shit he shoved tonight didn’t go the way he had planned. He wanted answers before he let the guy have it. But the guy wouldn’t cooperate and Mick for damn sure wasn’t going to let him get away. He had no choice but to shoot and shoot to kill.
But he didn’t know shit about why Joey was targeted. The guy was a drug dealer and Joey had been trying to break into that field, so hopefully it was as simple as that. But Mick assumed nothing. Joey, he hoped, would pull through and be able to tell him what really went down.
He got out of the shower, dried off, towel-dried his hair, and made his way to bed. He was so relieved to have Roz in his bed, and to have access to her body at this moment in time, that he didn’t bother to walk around the bed and get in. He climbed his naked body over her and got in under the covers. Roz opened her eyes when she felt his big body pressing down on the bed, and she quickly turned to face him.
“Joey’s okay?” she asked him urgently. “Did you see him again tonight?”
“I saw him,” Mick assured her. “He’s better. My doctor is there with him, overseeing his care, and he’s breathing on his own now.”
“That’s good, Mick.”
“Yeah, it is. He’s turned a corner, but he’s not out of the woods yet.”
“He’ll be just fine,” Roz said. “He’s a strong kid.”
Mick smiled. “Yeah, I’ll give him that. He’s a stupid kid who does a lot of stupid-ass things, but he’s strong. He’ll pull through this.”
But Roz was now staring at Mick. “What about you?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, babe,” he assured her as he wrapped his arms around her naked body. “I’m fine.”
“Did you . . . I mean?”
Mick nodded. “I took care of it.”
But Roz could tell he was still unsettled. “It didn’t go well, did it?”
Mick appreciated her perceptiveness. “I found the guy responsible, and I took care of the guy responsible. But I still need some answers.”
“That the guy could answer? Or Joey?”
“Both. But since the guy can’t answer shit anymore,” he said, as he placed his hand between her legs and began to rub her clit, “it’ll be up to Joey.”
Roz felt odd when Mick made it clear to her what he had just done. Somehow, when it was theoretical and not an actual fact, it didn’t have the same moral uneasiness in her mind. She knew he was up to things of that nature, but he wasn’t wallowing in it or telling her about it. But she couldn’t bury her head in the sand and pretend she didn’t know what Mick had to do sometimes. Because she did know. He made it clear to her that there were times when he would have to do the unnatural and kill or be killed. He hated it. He was a man who knew it was wrong on every level. But it wasn’t as if he attempted to murder his own son and brought this on himself. They brought it to him. What did they expect him to do?
She rubbed his damp hair as his fingers left her clit and slinked in between the folds of her pussy. She was feeling it now. “I want you to know something,” she said to him.
Mick stared at her and his heart began to sink. Was she ready to leave him? Did he carelessly reveal too much about his other business activities and she wasn’t going to be able to take it?
“I want you to know,” Roz continued, as his unsettled heart waited, “that I will be here for you no matter what.”
Mick’s heart soared when she made that statement
. He continued to stare at her, but with the look of a man whose burden had been lifted.
“I know what kind of man you are,” Roz continued. “I know you won’t engage in those dastardly situations unless you had no choice. I know you.”
Mick managed to smile. “And I love you,” he said. “I still can’t believe my good luck.”
Roz smiled too, and landed a kiss on his lips. But if she thought it was going to be a one and done, she didn’t know Mick as well as she had thought.
He pulled her closer with one hand, continued to massage her pussy with his other hand, and kissed her with a hard, lingering kiss. And then a series of kisses. Roz placed her arms around his neck, and returned his passion.
But she couldn’t match it. Because Mick wasn’t making love for the fun of it. He was making love with the woman that made him feel alive again. Every time he had to do what he had to do he felt less human. He felt as if a piece of himself was dying with every bullet hole. But he wasn’t a man who lived in regret. If you slapped him, he was going to slap you, kick you, and stomp you down. It was who he was. And he made no apologies for it.
But being that way wasn’t easy. It took its toll on him. He used to search out different women for this moment, and they would give his body some relief. But Roz gave his entire being relief, not just his body. She soothe his mind, heart, and body. And that was why she was never just a fuck for him. It was so much more than that.
He pulled her on top of him as he continued to kiss her. Her pussy was wet just from his finger massage, so he moved both hands to her ass and massaged her there as he kissed her. He forgot about that world outside. He forgot about the pain and the responsibilities and the burdens when he was with Roz like this. That was why he kissed her so long. For nearly fifteen minutes they kissed. He squeezed her ass, he kissed her, he made love to her mouth. Until his cock wanted to join the party too, it had stiffened to aching territory, and he put it inside of her.
Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho Page 11