Romancing Sal Gabrini 2: A Woman's Touch

by Mallory Monroe

  “Who could that be?” Gemma asked.

  “It has to be William,” Sal said, as he pulled out of her. She moved off of him, and he began to get out of the bed. His penis was still throbbing, and her vagina was still pulsating, but Sal put on a robe and headed downstairs all the same.

  Gemma buttoned back up his dress shirt that covered her body, as she slid off of the bed too. Her plan wasn’t to go downstairs at all, but to go to the bathroom and freshen up. But then she heard a voice on the other side of the front door say, “FBI, open up,” and her heart slammed against her chest. The FBI? She was an attorney. She knew how serious it was if the FBI was knocking at the door. Especially Sal’s door, given his extra activities.

  She hurried to his drawer, searched every one until she found a pair of shorts she had left there from one of her previous visits, and quickly put them on, her heart still pounding as she moved. Then she hurried up front.

  Sal had already opened the door by the time she made it up there, and two agents, both tall, both white, were inside his penthouse. They were only talking, she thought, but they looked as if whatever they were discussing was major.

  One agent took on a decidedly more aggressive pose when Gemma walked up front. Sal turned, and immediately made clear who she was.

  “This is my lady,” he said.

  “Relax, Mr. Gabrini,” the aggressive agent said.

  “Don’t tell me to relax,” said Reno. “I just don’t want anybody pulling that I thought she had a gun shit. She’s packing nothing, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “What about you?” the more aggressive agent asked. “Are you packing anything?”

  “Yeah, I’m packing. I’m packing your mama’s asshole,” Sal replied, to Gemma’s horror. Didn’t he know these men could try to frame him just for insulting them?

  But Sal knew what he was doing. Fight strength with strength, he always believed. If FBI agents or any cop on the beat felt as if he was weak and would easily roll over, they would try to roll over him. “What is it you want?” he asked them. “I’ve got things to do.”

  “Like what?” the aggressive agent asked. “Cooking, cleaning, murdering somebody?”

  Gemma couldn’t believe he joked about a thing like that. Sal didn’t like it either.

  “What are you a comedian?” he asked the agent. “Murdering somebody? Yeah, that’s real funny.”

  “Will Murelli ain’t laughing,” Aggressive said.

  “Neither is Chazz Charski,” the other agent added.

  Sal could hardly believe it. Will and Chazz were dead? Both of them??? He was stunned, but he wasn’t letting his visitors know it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “We’re talking Will and Chazz. Two of your men. They were found dead, right here in Seattle.”

  Again Sal was floored. They had no business in his town. Gemma pulled him against her. “You have a right to remain silent, Sal,” she said. “Remain silent.”

  But her comment only aggravated Aggressive. “Who the hell do you think you are? Shut the fuck up!”

  Sal almost told that agent a thing or two, but Gemma interrupted him. “I am an attorney,” she said, although she knew she wasn’t licensed to practice in the state of Washington. “I was giving him legal advice. Now before we continue any further, is he under arrest?”

  The supposedly good agent smiled. “Arrest?” he asked. “Who mentioned anything of the sort? We’re here to talk with Mr. Gabrini. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “If he’s not under arrest, then you need to leave. He has nothing to talk about.”

  The agents looked at Sal. Sal looked at them. “What, are you deaf? My attorney said you need to leave. So leave. I’ve got nothing to say.”

  “We know they work for you, Sal. Will and Chazz both.”

  “That’s news to me,” Sal said, and then broke away from Gemma and went and opened the door. “Now you heard my attorney. Get outta here. Get lost.”

  The agents walked toward the door. “We can always take you for a ride,” the good agent said.

  “Then take me for one,” Sal replied. Gemma walked up to him. She didn’t see how that was a good idea. “You want to question me? Then let’s make it official. Let’s put that shit on tape! I didn’t kill any Will or Chazz or anybody else. So take me for a ride. Who the fuck do you think you’re threatening?”

  The agents hesitated, as if they were actually considering it, but Sal knew them like he knew the back of his hand. He was once a cop. He worked with the FBI, and after leaving the force, was constantly harassed by the FBI. They were convinced, at one time, that Sal was a mob boss. They gave up that hunt years ago, but that didn’t endear them to Sal in any way.

  To Gemma’s shock, Sal’s bet paid off. They didn’t take him for any rides. They simply looked at her again, looking down at his shirt she wore and those shorts, looked at Sal again, and then they left. Sal closed and locked the door.

  But he didn’t delay. He began hurrying back upstairs, for the bedroom.

  “What was that about, Sal?” Gemma asked him, following him.

  “It was about nothing,” Sal said. “A whole lot of nothing.” He grabbed his house phone off of the nightstand and pressed a button. William answered.

  “They flashed badges, boss,” William said before Sal could say a word.

  But his words only made Sal hotter. “I don’t care if they flash the gotdamn presidential seal, you always notify me when those fuckers are on their way up here! You hear me?”

  “But they told me---”

  “I don’t care what they told you! You notify me!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Then Sal slammed the phone down. “Gotdamn idiot!”

  Sal’s sudden anxiety made Gemma’s worse. “Sal, what’s wrong?” she asked again.

  Sal looked at her. He dreaded that she had to witness this. He placed his hands on her arms. “Nothing’s wrong, all right?” He kissed her on the forehead. “Nothing’s the matter. You don’t need to worry about anything. What I need you to do is run us some bath water. Why don’t you be a good girl and do that for me. All right?”

  But Gemma would have none of that. She slung his hands away from her. “No,” she said firmly.

  Sal looked at her, equally firm. “What did you say to me?”

  “I said no, Sal. You tell me what this is about. Why did the FBI come here asking you about those two men, the same two men that happened to have visited you at my house? What is this about, Sal?”

  Sal ran both hands through his hair. “They work for me. Will and Chazz. Now something’s happened to them. I need to find out why. All right?”

  “And you had nothing to do with it?”

  Sal grasped her arms again and looked her in her eyes. “Nothing,” he said.

  “Then why are you so unhinged? Do you think their deaths could be a message to you?”

  Gemma was smart as a whip, Sal thought. And somehow he knew he was not going to be able to keep a woman like her out of the loop for long. But he was going to hold off as long as he possibly could. “Maybe,” was all he was willing to say about it.

  Then he exhaled, as if he knew this was only the beginning, and left the bedroom. At first Gemma just stood there, and even contemplated running the bath the way he had ordered her. But she wasn’t built that way. Sweeping it under a rug, looking the other way, pretending it was rain and not piss, no. Not her. She hurried behind him.

  He headed for his home office and she followed him. Once there, she stood at the entrance as he walked behind his desk, pressed a button underneath his desk, and the wall behind him slid open. To Gemma’s shock, a veritably arsenal of weapons were behind that wall. But he didn’t grab a weapon. He grabbed one of the dozen or so untraceable cell phones on those shelves.

  Then he stepped out, and began pressing buttons on the phone. When he looked up and saw Gemma standing there, he didn’t try to make her leave. She knew something was up. She was nobody’s fool.
>
  She walked further into the office and sat down in the wingback chair in front of the desk. Sal sat down behind the desk, his arsenal still visible.

  Scotty Zumpano, called Zoo by all who knew him, came on the line. “What’s up, Sal?”

  “How are you?”

  “Little under the weather, if you know what I mean. Heat building up all around here.”

  “Yeah,” Sal said, glancing at Gemma. “Around here too.”

  “You too? Who?”

  “Feds. They paid me a visit.”

  “Damn, Sal. Must be serious shit. Real reason or trumped up?”

  Sal glanced at Gemma again. He hated that she had to be around for any of this. But at least Zoo knew how to speak in code. “Trumped up,” he said as he walked toward the window.

  “Involving who?”

  “Will Murelli and Chazz Charski. They were found dead, according to the agents.”

  “Another damn. Who would wanna ice them?”

  “That I don’t know. All I know is Chazz called me talking about Danny Bronco was still above ground---”

  “Danny Bronco?” Zoo asked with surprise in his voice. “Get the fuck outta here! He was whacked already.”

  “I know that,” Sal said. “But that’s what Chazz was claiming. I tell him, oh, yeah, get me pictures, motherfucker. You say Danny Bronco is still walking this earth, you get me pictures. Then the next thing I know he’s dead? And his body is here, in Seattle?”

  “Seattle? Dumped there no doubt.”

  “No doubt. Him and Will both.”

  “What were they working on?”

  “Locating Patty. Kira told me they found Patty, but then all I hear about is Danny Bronco.”

  “I heard about Patty springing the joint. With a mighty assist is what I’m hearing.”

  “A mighty assist?” Sal asked. That was news to him. “From who?”

  “Haven’t heard that. But I’m listening, I’m snooping around.”

  “Good. I need to know what’s up with this new development.”

  “Will and Chazz?”

  “Yeah. And who sprung Patty.”

  “You think it’s related?” Zoo asked Sal.

  Sal nodded. “You know it.”

  Then Sal’s desk phone began to ring. Gemma went around the desk to answer it.

  “It’s all related,” Sal went on, watching Gemma, “as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Hello?” Gemma said into the phone.

  It was William, Sal’s building manager. “May I speak with Mr. Gabrini, please.”

  “He’s on the phone right now, William. Perhaps I can help you.”

  “They’re headed back up,” William said, and then the phone went dead.

  Gemma quickly hung up too. Who was heading back up? Then she realized who and jumped from her seat. “They’re heading back up, Sal,” she yelled, and knocking began on his front door just as she said it.

  Sal killed the call with Zoo while Gemma reached underneath the desk and pressed the button. The wall closed his arsenal of weapons back in.

  “Good job,” Sal said as he took the untraceable cell phone to the edge of the desk and broke it in two. He tossed it in the wastebasket and then hurried to Gemma. He placed his hands on her arms.

  “Listen to me carefully,” he said to her. “They’re going to take me with them this time.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. They made whatever phone call they needed to make, and they’re taking me in.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you will not,” Sal said firmly. “What you will do is stay your ass right here and call Tommy. He’s out of town, but he’ll get here.”

  Gemma nodded.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong here, sweetheart. You hear me?”

  Gemma still wanted to demand to go with him, but she saw the pain in his eyes. This turn of events was changing him. “I hear you,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. But you need an attorney with you, Sal. They can try to trap you into incriminating yourself.”

  Sal frowned. “Whatta you think I was born yesterday? I know how to handle the Feds. You just do what I told you to do.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  He stared at her, even as the knocking on his front door intensified. He hated that he wasn’t a choirboy, that he wasn’t that boring, professional man her father wanted her to be with. He wish he could be simple and uncomplicated for her sake. But that was wishful thinking and he knew it. He kissed her on the lips.

  “I’m coming!” he yelled, as he hurried back up front.

  SIXTEEN

  Gemma had no intention of sounding hysterical. Her plan was to remain the sophisticated sister she took herself to be and do exactly as Sal had told her to do. But as soon as she heard Tommy Gabrini’s calming voice, she panicked.

  “They took him!” she blared in a voice as unsophisticated as they came.

  “This is Gemma?” Tommy asked.

  “Yes! They took Sal downtown.”

  “The police?”

  “The FBI. They came to the house this morning and I told them they either arrest him or leave because---”

  “Gemma, sweetheart,” Tommy said, his voice still calm. “I need you to relax, okay?”

  Gemma exhaled. “Okay,” she said.

  “Now are you in Vegas still?”

  “No! I’m here in Seattle, at the penthouse. The FBI took Sal downtown to question him and he told me to phone you.”

  There was a pause on Tommy’s end of the line.

  “Is he going to be all right, Tommy? I wanted to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me.”

  “He did the right thing,” Tommy assured her. “Now how long has he been gone?”

  “They just took him.”

  “Okay good. Now, Gemma, dear, this is what I need you to do. Are you dressed?”

  She looked down, at Sal’s now wrinkled dress shirt and her shorts. “Not really, no. I haven’t even showered yet.”

  “Then go take a shower and put on some clothes. I’m here in L.A. so according to my watch it should be a quarter after nine. Right?”

  Gemma looked around Sal’s office. She saw a clock on his desk. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Okay. Thirty minutes from now, I need you to be showered and dressed and downstairs, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “A car will be waiting for you. An SUV. You get in and do exactly as you’re told. Do you hear me?”

  Gemma wasn’t accustomed to being ordered around like this as if she was some child, but she felt so out of her depth that she didn’t fight it. “I hear you.”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you in a little bit.” And then he killed the call. At first Gemma just stood there, feeling almost too overwhelmed. But then she realized the clock was ticking. She hurried for the bathroom to shower and dress, and get downstairs.

  “She doesn’t live here,” one Doorman, a new employee, said to the other one. “Does she? I’ve never seen any blacks here.”

  “There’s a few here,” the more experienced Doorman replied.

  “I’ve never seen any.”

  “You’ve only been working here for three days. You probably haven’t seen half of the tenants yet.”

  “So you’re saying she lives here?”

  The Doorman looked at Gemma, who was seated inside the lobby of the Wingate Apartment complex waiting for the SUV to arrive. She showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed quickly, with five minutes to spare. “She doesn’t live here, no,” the experienced Doorman replied.

  “So what you figure is her game? Soliciting is what I figure. One of those black hookers from around the way. Want me to go tell her to scram?”

  The experienced Doorman smiled. “Yeah, you go tell her to scram. And I’ll stand back and watch how Mr. Gabrini not only fires you, but throws you through this glass door to drive his point home.”

  The newbie looked puzzled. “Who’s Mr. Gabrini?”

  The Doorman couldn’t be
lieve it. “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve told you? Mr. Gabrini is only the owner of the joint. The entire joint. He lives in the penthouse, I told you that.”

  “Oh, him!” Then the newbie frowned and looked at Gemma again. “So what is she to him?”

  “Only his girlfriend. Only the lady we have to call Miss Jones at all times and treat her the same way, he said, we treat him. In other words, you’d better learn how to kiss her ass because from what I’m hearing around here, she ain’t going nowhere. She’s a keeper. Some are even saying he loves her. Yeah, you go tell her to scram. See how that works out for ya.”

  The newbie swallowed hard, realizing how close he came to certain termination. But when an SUV stopped in front of the building and Gemma stood up, he decided to go out of his way with kindness.

  “Good morning, Miss Jones,” he said as he opened the door for her. “You look so lovely today.”

  “Thank-you,” Gemma said absently as she made her way out of the door and across the sidewalk. She was dressed simply, in a pair of black trousers, a white blouse tucked into the trousers, and heels. Her hair was in its normal bouncy bob and she wore no makeup, which many people said she never needed anyway. Sal said it the most.

  She got into the SUV, the door closed, and they were off. A burly white man was the driver, and another burly white man sat in the backseat with her. They didn’t tell her where they were going, and she decided not to ask. Tommy and Sal were running this show.

  But what she didn’t realize at the time, was that this drive would last nearly six hours long. At first they drove to Portland. It took them three hours. But they didn’t stay. They grabbed some burgers and drove back to Seattle. Gemma couldn’t eat even if she wanted to, which she didn’t, but she did force a few French fries down. But once back in Seattle, they kept driving around town until the man in the backseat received a call. Then he hung up the phone and looked at the Driver. “He said to bring her in,” was all he had to say. They took her in.

  What amazed Gemma was that they took her, not to some safe house or Tommy’s house or some other location, but right back to the Wingate. Gemma couldn’t believe it.