“Uh-oh,” Ashley said. “That means trouble.”
Donald looked at her. “How does it mean trouble just because he’s talking to his kid brother?”
“There’s trouble,” Brent said. “Ash is right.”
Ashley looked at Donald with a satisfied look on her attractive face. “Thought so,” she said. Then she looked at Brent, her satisfaction gone. “What kind of trouble?” she asked.
“We don’t know yet,” said Brent, who was as blunt as their father. He sat on one side of Jenay on the sofa, as Carly sat on the other side of Jenay, sandwiching her in. “But something’s up.”
“And why are you in town anyway, Car?” Ashley and Donald took seats too. “We didn’t know you were coming home.”
“I didn’t either,” Carly said. She was emotionally spent. “Until I saw that letter.”
They all looked at her. “The one you gave to Dad?” Brent asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“What’s in it?” Brent asked.
“I’ll let Dad tell you because I’m not sure myself. I mean, I think I know what it might be, but he’ll be sure.”
“But it’s bad?” Ashley asked.
Carly nodded. “Even more so now that Dad’s calling Uncle Mick.”
“Then tell us what it is, Carly, dang,” Donald said, his nervousness turning into frustration as it often did. “Why are you always so secretive? And where’s lover boy anyway? Why did you come alone? Where’s Trevor?”
Carly leaned against her mother. Jenay placed her arm around her. Carly was a young lady in her early twenties, but it always seemed to Jenay that she had the kind of problems no one as young as she should ever have.
“You know what I think, Donnie?” Ashley said. “I think you hit the nail on the head right out the gate. That letter is about Trevor Reese, isn’t it, Car? That’s why he’s not here.”
Carly looked at her biological sister. Many people viewed Ashley as an airheaded pretty girl. But Carly didn’t. Her older sister might not have had book smarts, but she had street smarts out of this world. Impressive street smarts.
“Well?” Donald asked. “Does that letter have something to do with lover boy?”
“Stop calling him that,” Jenay scorned her stepson. “You know his name.”
“Trevor then,” Donald said. “Alright?” Then he looked at Carly again. “Is this about Trevor?”
“Just wait until Daddy tells all of us what’s going on,” Jenay said. “Stop badgering Carly. You can see she’s tired.”
“She’s always tired since she hooked up with lover, I mean Trevor,” Donald said.
“For real though,” Ashley agreed. “I’m surprised he let her visit us at all,” she added.
Then Carly thought of something when Ashley mentioned the word visit. She looked at Jenay. “What was Brent talking about when he said I was coming because of what happened to you? What happened?”
Jenay still shuddered when she allowed herself to think about it. “There was a little accident,” Jenay said.
“Little?” Donald and Ashley said in unison. “Ma was nearly killed, Carly,” Donald continued.
When Carly heard those words she sat upright and looked at Jenay. “Killed? Ma! What happened?”
“Two trucks, one from one side and the other one from the other side, ran into her,” Donald said. “You should see that S-class Dad bought Ma. It was mangled so badly.”
Ashley elbowed Donald as tears appeared in Carly’s eyes. “You were in the car?” Carly asked Jenay.
Jenay pulled her back against her. “It’s okay, baby. I’m alright. But yes, I was there. And they’re right, it wasn’t a little thing.”
But Carly wondered if that letter and Trevor had something to do with that accident too. Her heart was pounding. “Did the truck drivers get injured too?” she asked.
“We don’t know that yet,” Brent said. “They fled the scene.”
That didn’t help Carly’s suspicions. “Who do you think is responsible, Brent?” she asked her big brother, praying they had an idea and it didn’t involve Trevor.
Brent wanted to tell her about their father’s suspicion that Miller Franklin, her biological uncle, might have been involved, but she didn’t even know Miller was in town yet. He decided to go with the other theory. “We aren’t sure of anything yet,” he said, “but it did happen just a few hours before the vote was to take place.”
Carly’s heart began to relax again. “So you think Mayor Cruikshank set it up?”
“It’s possible, yeah,” Jenay said.
“Although not likely,” Brent said. “If they would have run her off of the road or something like that, then I could see it. But those guys wanted her dead. I don’t see Cruikshank going that far.”
“Don’t give Cruikshank too much credit, Brenton,” Jenay said. “I wouldn’t put anything past that joker.”
“I agree with Ma,” Ashley said. “His real name should have been Crookshank if you ask me. He just got elected, but he runs this town like he’s some freaking dictator. If you ask me.”
“Who’s asking you?” Donald asked, and Ashley playfully pushed him.
And then the front door opened, and Charles walked in. Brent stood up. Carly sat up again. And Charles, his suit now looking well-worn and wrinkled and his face matching his clothes, walked over to the sofa. Carly stood up so he could sit beside his wife.
When he sat down, he pulled Carly onto his lap. Charles’s children felt he favored Carly above all of them, and Donald and Ashley didn’t like it, but that was their problem as far as Charles was concerned. Because for he and Jenay, it wasn’t about favoritism. They both saw a heavy vulnerability in Carly, something so deep within her that they she had yet to share with them, that caused them to feel overly protective of her. That was why they were so distressed when she decided to stay with an unsavory character like Trevor Reese. That was why they were so distressed when she showed up at City Hall.
Charles took Jenay’s hand and looked at her. “You okay?” he asked her.
He’d been asking her that same question all day, ever since the accident, and Jenay’s response had been the same: “I’m okay.”
Brent sat on the coffee table. He needed answers. “What’s going on, Pop?” he asked him.
Charles, known for his bluntness, didn’t waste time. “Carly found a list,” he said.
“In Trevor’s wallet,” Brent said. “I heard that part. But what kind of list?”
Charles exhaled. “A kill list,” he said, and everybody paid attention.
“A kill list?” Jenay asked, her pretty face a mask of worry. “What’s that?”
“It’s a list, usually given to a paid assassin,” Charles said, “that contains the names and other information of his target. Or targets in this case.”
Carly’s heart pounded. “So that’s what it is?”
“Yeah,” Charles hated to say.
“Who’re the targets?” Jenay asked, her heart pounding too. “You?”
Charles shook his head. “Not me, no.”
“Then who, Charles?”
Charles still couldn’t believe it. “Reno, Sal, Tommy, and . . . and Mick.”
“Damn,” Brent said. “All of them?”
“All of them,” Charles said.
“What did Uncle Mick say?” Ashley asked.
“He said for us to hunker down. He’s on his way.”
“Somebody needs to notify the Gabrinis,” Jenay said.
“I already have,” Charles said. “They’re on their way too.”
“But why would Trevor have a kill list on our family?” Jenay asked. And then everybody looked at Carly. “You have any idea, Carly?” she asked her.
Carly shook her head. “No, ma’am,” she said, as tears began to come. “I still don’t believe it. He wouldn’t harm my family; he wouldn’t do that. But I couldn’t ignore that list.”
“Does he know you saw it?” Charles asked.
Carly
shook her head. “No, sir,” she said. “I made sure of that.”
Charles pulled her closer. “Good,” he said, as he wrapped his other arm around Jenay and pulled her closer too. “That’ll at least give us some time.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Trevor Reese walked out of the hotel across the street from the PaLargio Hotel and Casino on the Vegas Strip, and tried to get lost in the crowd. He walked slowly, as tourists and gamblers swirled around him in all deliberate speed. He wore a track suit and tennis shoes as he pretended to be just an average joe enjoying the sights and sounds.
But his eyes kept looking over at the PaLargio. It’s owner, the infamous Reno Gabrini, had just arrived and was getting out of his limousine with his gorgeous wife Katrina, an African American woman who had the most alluring hazel eyes Trevor had ever seen. And Reno was guarding her as if he was proud of that allure and wanted everybody to know it. That was his Achilles heel. Big mistake, Trevor thought.
But he kept looking. The valets were out in force. Before Reno’s arrival, they were hanging around, laughing and talking. He saw them from his hotel room earlier. Now they were acting as if they were the busiest people on the planet. They were at Reno’s every beck and call. Two of them hurried to help Mrs. Gabrini out of the car, as if she was royalty too.
Then Trevor thought about Carly. He would love to parade her around as his woman, the way Gabrini paraded his wife around, but he was not in a position to do so. As far as the world was concerned, Carly was just one of many females in his bed. His enemies would be wasting their time doing her in because, as far as they knew, he didn’t give a shit about her anyway.
But it was all an act. He loved Carly deeply. The outside world would never know. Carly probably didn’t even know. But he did.
“That’s the owner,” a man’s voice said behind him.
Trevor’s first instinct was to reach for his gun. But he didn’t want to expose himself if he didn’t have to. Instead, he stopped walking and turned around slowly, carefully. The man looked like a middle-aged, fat-belly tourist, complete with the Hawaiian shirt. “Excuse me?” Trevor asked.
“That guy over there, the one with the black chick? He owns the PaLargio. That’s the owner right there.”
Trevor called himself looking at Reno Gabrini for the first time. Reno and Katrina were walking inside of the PaLargio. “Must be nice,” Trevor said, and turned to leave.
“Know what else is nice?” the tourist asked.
Trevor knew then something was up. He placed his hand inside his pocket. “What?” he asked.
“See those sharpshooters on the roof of the PaLargio?” the tourist asked.
Trevor didn’t bother to look up. He’d already seen them from his hotel window. “What about them?”
“Notice where their guns are pointed at this very moment?”
It was only then did Trevor look up at Gabrini’s rooftop sharpshooters. All of their weapons were out of sight as they should have been. But then, after he looked up at them, their weapons were displayed. And every last one of them were suddenly pointed at Trevor. Trevor was shocked. How could they know?
“One false move,” the tourist said, discarding his fake golly gee Midwestern accent for his true Brooklyn brogue, “and your ass is dead.”
Trevor looked at the tourist. He meant it.
“Let’s go for a drive,” the “tourist” said, and Trevor complied.
Thirty minutes later and Trevor found himself being marched onto a private plane at an airstrip, and slammed down in a chair. He knew it was Mick Sinatra’s plane because of the gold encrusted insignia, with the Sinatra family crest, on the seats. Two men sat beside him, one on either side of him, and midway up the aisle was another set of security personnel. He wanted to joke how important he felt, but he knew that would be a fool’s joke.
Nearly an hour later, a second plane arrived. He could see out of the window as Tommy Gabrini got off his plane, along with his wife Grace and their two children. A limousine drove up and Tommy opened the door. His wife, holding their baby, got inside, along with their little girl. Tommy kissed her, lingering in his kiss, and then he closed the door. The limo drove off, along with a convoy of SUVs escorting them, away from the airstrip.
Then Tommy headed toward Mick Sinatra’s plane. It was then and only then that Trevor was convinced. They knew. But they knew what? There were so many moving parts. And how did they know?
It would be another half hour before Tommy boarded the plane Trevor was a prisoner on before anything else went down. Boarding the plane after Tommy were his brother Sal Gabrini, a mob boss out of the East Coast Mafia and a Vegas resident too, Tommy’s cousin Reno Gabrini, coined the most powerful man in Vegas by some flashy magazine, and Mick the Tick himself. The most sadistic mob boss Trevor had ever come across.
But they didn’t come to Trevor with whatever they had on him, although he knew they had something. They, instead, sat up front, talked amongst themselves, as the plane took off. Where were they going? Why would they take him with them? And why, Trevor wondered, weren’t they asking him a ton of questions!
But up front, Mick and Sal were seated on one set of seats and Reno and Tommy were seated across from them, on the other set, and they knew exactly what they were doing. Their families were all safely tucked away in the bowels of the PaLargio, under the heaviest security, with Trina Gabrini, Reno’s wife, in charge. Mick’s family, with his wife Roz in charge, remained in Philly, locked down too. As far as the world could see, they were four businessmen sitting on a plane, all of them rich and powerful, heading for a business trip.
“What does Big Daddy think is going on?” Reno asked Mick. “Has Carly told him anything?”
“She doesn’t know anything,” Mick said. “She found that letter and took off for Jericho, to her father’s house. She’s upset, but she knows nothing.”
“And what about this hit on Jenay?” Sal asked. “What’s the deal with that? First I’m hearing it’s maybe that crooked mayor trying to suppress the vote, and then I’m hearing no, it’s her ex brother-in-law. Which is it?”
“Who knows?” Mick responded. “But all of this shit related, I know that.”
“Damn straight,” Sal agreed.
“That’s why we’re going to Jericho?” Reno asked.
Mick nodded. “That’s why we’re going to Jericho. The threat is neutralized. Reese is under our control. We just have to find his employer.”
“He’s not telling us shit,” Reno said. “We already know that. I say we torture it out of his ass.” Then he looked at Mick. “But you disagree.”
“He might be Fed,” Mick said. “Remember I told you that’s been our working theory since Carly started dating him. Torturing him or doing anything to him will only bring heat on us if he is a federal agent. We can’t take that chance. So far all we’ve got is that he’s on a plane ride to go see his girlfriend, who happens to be my niece. If we do more, and he turns out to be Fed, we’ll be too hot to make any moves. I can’t take that kind of heat.”
“You think we can?” Sal asked. “Shit no.”
“And Big Daddy agrees with Mick,” Tommy said. “I mentioned torture too, like you, Reno, I wanted to torture his ass too. But Big Daddy gave a no to that suggestion because of that Fed possibility.”
“He also feels,” Mick said of his brother, “that Reese might spew out half-truths just to stop the torture. He wants to find out if there’s any connection to Jenay’s car crash and that kill list, or to that ex brother-in-law suddenly showing up. Or even to that crooked mayor and his campaign to destroy Charles’s businesses. He says he’ll get it out of Reese.”
“And if he can’t?” Sal asked.
“Maybe Carly will,” Mick said.
Tommy looked at Mick. “Big Daddy said that? He’s going to let Carly near this guy again?”
“No,” Reno said. “You know Big D is not about to let his precious Carly anywhere near Trevor Reese right now. That’s just Mick talking.�
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“I checked deep into Reese’s background,” Tommy said. “I mean deeper than I’ve ever checked anybody.”
“And?” Mick asked. Tommy was a security expert. He did background better than anybody Mick had ever known.
“And there’s nothing there,” Tommy answered his question. “And I mean nothing. It’s as if he runs that public relations firm in Boston, and that’s all he does. But that’s a lie.”
“It’s a lie,” Mick agreed.
“But I agree with Big Daddy,” Sal said. “Let’s deal with Trevor Reese in Maine. Let’s see what Carly can get out of his ass.”
Tommy looked at Sal. “Big Daddy said that?”
“No, I’m saying it,” Sal said. “We may need Carly. We can’t take that off the table.”
“I’ve made every contact I can,” Reno said to Sal. “And I’ve got more than anybody on this plane. You’ve made every contact. Mick and Tommy have too. But we got nothing. Nobody’s heard about any heat on any of us. Nobody’s heard anything. He must be Fed,” Reno added, “because his shit too tight.”
“What about Trevor’s hotel room?” Tommy asked. “What did your guys find, Reno?”
“Oh, he’s too good for that,” Reno responded. “No weapons. No plans. They didn’t find shit. He probably has a second hotel room for that, a room under an assumed name that would take forever to uncover. Or, who know,” Reno added, “he might have nothing to do with this.”
“That’s bloody unlikely,” Sal said. “Nobody carries around a kill list unless they intend to kill. We all know that.”
They all nodded. They knew.
“Let’s just get to Jericho,” Mick said. “We’ll figure it out there.”
Mario Giuseppe stuffed another olive-oil drenched heaping of bruschetta into his mouth as Joey hurried into the Ma and Pop diner and headed for his small table near the back.
“Boss,” Joey said nervously as he sat at the table.
“You should try this, Joey,” Mario said as he held up a slice of the toasted bread he was enjoying. “Beats that shit you like. That junk food.”
“Boss,” Joey said again, anxious to tell the news.
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