Trina handed Gemma another refreshed glass of wine. It was after midnight and they were still at the PaLargio, inside the penthouse. Lucky, his nanny, and his cadre of security had been escorted to the PaLargio after the shooting. Just in case. Lucky slept through it all.
Reno and Sal were sitting at the bar at the back of the living room. Gemma and Trina were in the living room. Trina sat next to Gemma on the sofa. She smiled. “Your campaign is getting off to an interesting start,” she said.
Gemma couldn’t help but smile too. “It’s crazy, right? Sal’s shooting, and now this shooting. The public is going to think I’m some kind of mobster myself when it’s all over.”
Trina laughed. “And from what Sal was saying you hired two people to run your campaign, and has already fired them both.”
Gemma couldn’t help but laugh too.
“Lucky sleep?” Trina asked Gemma.
“He’s sleep, thank God,” Gemma responded.
“But that’s a good sign,” Trina said.
Gemma looked at her. “What’s a good sign?”
“Your campaign getting off to a rocky start. It’ll get better from here. It can’t get any worse.”
Gemma smiled at that, and Trina laughed, and both women gave a toast.
But Sal and Reno weren’t in a toasting mood. They were further away from their ladies, in the back of the room. Reno stood behind the bar, pouring himself another drink, and Sal sat at the barstool.
“We’ve got to find Mouse,” Reno said. “That fucker is slick, though. He knows how to hide.”
“Yeah, he does,” Sal agreed. “But I’ll smoke his ass out sooner or later.” He looked at Reno. “You couldn’t save one?”
“I saved one,” Reno said. “Some kid, who couldn’t be more than nineteen, said Mouse was holed up in a new trap. I asked him how did he know. He said because he was Mouse’s son.”
Sal smiled, and shook his head. “I guess he’s the only person in the mob world who doesn’t know Mick Sinatra cut off Mouse’s cock when he and Mouse were young thugs together and he caught Mouse fucking one of his girlfriends. Mouse ain’t nobody’s daddy. Especially not some nineteen-year-old.”
“You know I know it,” Reno said. “I shot his ass just for being so stupid. And also, of course, for that little matter of trying to kill us.”
Both men smiled.
Then Reno looked at Sal. “Speaking of Mick the Tick,” he said. “You think it’s time we call him and Tommy in on this?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Besides, Tommy’s in Japan right now, and Mick’s in New Zealand. He’s from one end of the world to the other end. It’ll take him a damn near week to get back here. This shit ain’t going on that long.”
“Damn right,” Reno said.
“But what I don’t understand is why the kid said Mouse sent him?” Sal asked. “Tito and Mouse weren’t working together. That’s for damn sure. And we checked. They were being muscled out of a lot of territory. When they came to me and told me they were losing ground, they weren’t making that shit up.”
“What are you thinking?” Reno asked.
“I’m thinking there has to be somebody else pulling the strings,” Sal said. “Maybe there’s somebody out there who played both of them. Tito thought Mouse was in the dark about whatever arrangement he had with the guy, and Mouse thought Tito was in the dark about his arrangement with the guy. They both thought the other one was in the dark.”
“But why would they bring that shit to you?” Reno asked.
“Maybe they genuinely didn’t know who the guy was, and they really needed me to find out who he is. Tito got his cousin to give my lodge to that Nigerian. Tito got Sweets to try to create friction in my marriage. I was beginning to figure Tito was the mastermind himself. But then this shit happens tonight, and Tito can’t be behind it. That fucker’s dead. That I know.”
“What about that guy you were meeting with? That Ben Walker?”
Sal dismissed that idea out of hand. “He just wants to get into Gemma’s panties,” he said. “That’s all that prick is about.”
“I figure Mouse pulled this shit tonight,” Reno said. “That kid wasn’t lying about Mouse being behind it.”
“I agree. But why would Mouse pull it? What would possibly be in it for Mouse unless he was doing the bidding for somebody else? Somebody with something powerful over his head?”
Reno thought about it. “It’s possible. I don’t know. But I’m with you: T and Mouse were not working together. It’ll make no sense for them to be suffering the losses they were suffering unless something else was at work here. Now if you told me Tito was masterminding it, I’d believe that. Or even Mouse. But not both of them together.”
Sal nodded. “Right,”’ he said. “I’ve got to assume that that land grab boogey man they told me about is real.”
“And you still don’t have a name?”
“My guys are on it. But no. I still don’t have a name.” Which upset Sal even more. He swilled down his drink.
After Trina and Gemma joined Reno and Sal at the bar, both couples deciding to keep it light and not discuss the awfulness that took place earlier, Reno and Trina’s young son Dominic, who should have been in bed and long since asleep, entered the room. When he saw that his relatives were visiting, whom he referred to as his aunt and uncle, he ran to Gemma. “Auntie Gemma!” he said as he ran.
Gemma hugged him vigorously.
Sal looked at Reno. “I don’t have Mick and Tommy,” he said, “but can I borrow Dommi?”
Reno laughed. “I’ll pack that motherfucker’s bag myself,” Reno said. “Just say the word.”
“Yeah, you’re full of shit, Reno,” Sal said. “You dote on Sophie, and baby Jimmy. But Dommi is the one after your own heart.”
Reno smiled. He wasn’t arguing with the truth.
“Uncle Sal!” Dommi said as he hurried to Sal. Sal lifted him into his arms.
“Where’s Lucky?” Dommi asked.
“In the Nursery,” Sal said.
“What are you doing up?” Reno asked his son.
“My question exactly,” said Trina.
“Speaking of my baby,” Gemma said, rising from the bar. “I’d better go check on him.”
“I’ll come with you, girl,” Trina said, rising too. “Anything to stop me from beating the shit out of Dommi.”
Gemma smiled as she and Trina headed for the Nursery.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Reno said. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I heard people talking and since I had a question,” Dommi said, “I decided to come and ask it.”
“Ask what question?” Reno asked.
“Why do they make the people leave the paper?”
Reno and Sal stared at Dommi. What the fuck was he talking about? “What?” Reno asked him. Sal could only smile. Sounded like some weirdo Dommi shit to him.
“It happens all the time,” Dommi continued.
“What happens all the time?” Reno asked.
“On Judge Judy,” Dom said. “When the people are leaving after the verdict, why do they always make them turn around and leave the paper on the table? Why can’t they take the paper? Why do they always make them leave the paper on the table?”
Reno stared at his son. He was at a lost on every level.
“Why do they always make them leave the paper?”
Reno frowned. “How should we know?” he yelled at his son. “Why would we care?”
“I can’t figure it out,” Dommi said sincerely. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t figure it out.”
Reno’s heart went out to his son, and he lifted him into his own arms.
But Sal and Dommi exchanged a look as Reno held him. And Sal couldn’t help but smile and give that boy a nod. A mob boss in training, Sal thought. Slicker than oil. Even Reno was buying his bullshit.
But hats off to the hellion, as far as Sal was concerned. You couldn’t help your nature, and Sal recogni
zed Dommi’s nature. He had to respect a fellow boss.
He winked at Dommi as Dommi laid his head so innocently on his father’s shoulder. And Dommi, not at all surprisingly to Sal, winked back.
That night, Sal and Gemma held their baby together, put their baby back to bed, and then went to bed themselves. It was nearly four in the morning. They laid there, in Reno and Trina’s penthouse, grateful that they made it out of that restaurant alive. But the reality of what could have been still stunned them.
It took a lot of effort, but they eventually fell asleep. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
But there was little rest for the weary because early that next morning, the mood shifted again. The family was at the breakfast table when Jimmy Mack Gabrini, Reno’s oldest son, came into the penthouse. Mouse Lanza, he said, was downstairs. In the Bowels.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Bowels was the basement inside Reno’s PaLargio Hotel and Casino on the Vegas Strip. It was the place the Gabrinis utilized when unpleasantness had to be dealt with. A hellhole, as Sal often called it.
And as Reno and Sal stepped off of the freight elevator that took them to that hellhole, and as they made their way to the end of the hall, the fact that Jimmy was the one to track down the one man they really needed to talk to, set really well with both of them.
“These wise guys better watch out,” Reno said jokingly. “Jimmy Mack’s getting it done!”
“He’s getting there,” Sal said. “I just don’t want him to get there.”
Reno looked at Sal, and his smile left too. Who was he kidding? He exhaled. “Know what you mean,” he said. “He’s tried college. He’s tried running a part of my business. Nothing’s worked for him.” Then Reno’s expression turned worrisome. “Except this shit.”
“I don’t know if he’s cut out for it, Reno, to be honest with you,” Sal said. “Jimmy’s so sensitive. He’s a good kid. And a good, sensitive kid can get himself killed out in this cold world. But that other son of yours? That son of a bitch Dominic? It’s this cold world I’d be concerned about.”
Reno laughed.
“This cold world better watch out for that motherfucker,” Sal added with a smile.
But when they made it up to the door, and before they entered, Reno stopped Sal. And looked him in the eye. “I know just seeing Mouse’s weasel ass is going to upset you. They could have killed your wife. Could have killed you too. I’d be mad as a motherfuck too. But intel first,” Reno said. “Don’t let your emotions overrule that rule.”
Sal could have been offended. He was the one who could tell Reno a thing or two about the rules of this game. But he knew it was coming from a good place. He nodded. “I’ll remember that,” he said.
Reno stared at Sal a moment longer. Of all the Gabrini men and Sinatra men who had to deal with this shit on a daily basis, Sal worried him the most. Not because he couldn’t handle it. He could handle it better than all of them probably. But because this shit seemed to tear at Sal more than it tore at the rest of them. That was why Sal saw that sensitivity in Jimmy. He had it, but in a very different way, himself.
But when they walked into the room where Mouse was being held captive, and when Mouse looked up and saw Sal and Reno Gabrini, he knew his time on this earth was just about up. And he was resigned to it.
Robby Yale was in there with him, and two other men.
“Where’s Jimmy?” Mouse asked.
“Not here,” Reno said.
Mouse smiled a weak smile. “I thought my ass had it all figured out. I was hiding in plain sight. Right here in Vegas. Right here on the Strip. How in hell did that son of yours figure that out?”
“He tracked down the men we killed last night,” Reno said. “Every one of them were out of town guys. And every one of them, based on match books they had on them, keys they had on them, and on and on, showed that they all were staying at the Savoy. Every one of them. It stood to reason that their boss, who did not want anybody to know where he was, was probably staying there too, right under their noses. But even they didn’t realize you were staying right there.”
Mouse nodded. “They didn’t know.”
“What do you know, Mouse?” Sal asked, getting to the heart of the matter.
Mouse looked at Sal. They used to be equals once upon a time. Mob bosses with tough reputations, both of them. But Sal kept sailing higher. Now this. “I know I’m fucked,” he said. “That much I know.”
“Who was behind that hit last night?” Sal asked as if he didn’t already know.
Mouse smiled. “As if you don’t know,” he said. “I was behind it. It was my men.”
“Why?” Sal asked.
Mouse leaned his head back. “Because I had to.”
“Why?” Reno asked.
“Because I had to.”
“Answer the question, Mouse,” Sal said. “Why did you order that hit?”
Mouse looked at him. “Because somebody ordered me. Because he said if I didn’t take you out, he was going to take the little turf I still had left, and then, just as an added bonus, he said, take me out too.”
Sal and Reno had to fight to hide their anxiousness to get a name. “Who is he?” Sal asked.
Mouse shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Tito wouldn’t tell,” Reno said.
“Because T didn’t know either,” Mouse said. “He never revealed himself. Everything was told to us by him calling us on throwaway phones. Nothing traceable. At first, I didn’t believe him. Tito, either, although I didn’t know he was being threatened the same way I was being threatened. But when he began to prove himself, and our territories were taken from us and given to other families, I knew he meant business.”
“Is that why you two came to me?”
“No,” Mouse said. “The mystery man told me to come. Like I said, I didn’t know what was going on with Tito, and T didn’t know what was going on with me. Mystery man told me to contact T, and for us to go ask you for help. He said I couldn’t so much as whisper anything about him, other than the fact that he was taking our territory and we needed to find out who he was. He said if I said anything else, I would find, not a horse head in my bed, but my very own head, separated from my body of course, in my bed. Guy like that, who already backed up his talk by taking half of my territory, was a serious contender for crazy fuck of the year in my book. I did whatever he told me to do.”
“Who else is involved?” Sal asked.
“How should I know? I didn’t even know Tito was involved! I didn’t know Tito was being threatened the way I was being threatened. I thought he was just taking T’s territory like he was taking mine.”
Mouse looked at Sal. “When he told me to call T and set up a meeting with you, I thought I was the only one he had told to do that. And maybe I was. I don’t know. I didn’t discuss it with Tito, and he didn’t discuss it with me. We just talked about our territory being taken, and maybe you could help us. That’s why we met with you. I did what I was told.”
Sal and Reno stared at Mouse. There was no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. But it jived with everything they believed so far. Then Sal looked at Robby. “Everybody out,” he said.
Robby motioned for the other men in the room to leave. And Robby left too. Then Reno walked over to the door, as if he was standing guard now.
Mouse smiled and looked at Sal. “Fun time now?” he asked, knowing what was about to go down.
“Payback time now,” Sal said and, with his fist, knocked Mouse’s small body across the room. When Sal slung over chairs hurrying over to him, and then grabbed him back up to continue the beating, Reno smiled and enjoyed the show. Not that he loved carnage. He didn’t. He hated it, in fact. But a fucker like Mouse Lanza, who was supposedly so brave earlier, was screaming like a girl now. And trying to run away from a man like Sal. He had no compulsion about killing their asses last night. Why should they have any compulsion about doing the same to his today?
And Sal did just
that. He killed his motherfucking ass. Reno nodded, and was proud of Sal, as Sal made it clear, lick after lick after lick, that nobody was fucking with a Gabrini the way Mouse tried to fuck with them, and not get screwed himself.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As the days came and went, Sal and Gemma returned to their busy lives. The search was now on for the mystery man, but they knew it could take days, weeks, or even months or years before that man was found. Especially if he had gone further underground than he already was. And with no name, and nobody talking if there was anybody who could talk, they were at a standstill. But they both had businesses to run. Sal, as president of the Gabrini Corporation, not to mention his other business ventures, and Gemma had a law firm to manage.
But two days later, when Ben Walker walked into Gemma’s law office, it was Curtis Kane who felt he had some managing to do.
“Good morning, Attorney Walker,” Curtis said as soon as Ben walked into the office. “How may I help you, sir?”
“Is Mrs. Gabrini here, Curtis?”
“Yes, sir,” Curtis said, picking up the phone. “I’ll see if she can work you in.”
Ben glanced over at Barbara, who was at the file cabinet reviewing a file. He looked down, at her voluptuous body, and began to get aroused.
When Barbara looked up at him and saw the lust in his eyes, not to mention the expansion in his pants, she felt something too. But looked away. She knew guys like Ben Walker. They were all so liberal and ra-ra-ra about civil rights. And inwardly, they lusted after black women and always had that piece of black meat on the side. But when it came time to get serious, no matter how many black women they had around, they always managed to find themselves a good little white woman to marry. Barbara wasn’t interested. If she was going to date outside of her race, they would have to be men like the Gabrinis and Sinatras. Men who flaunted their women of color, and proudly married them. Not some sleaze ball like Ben Walker, who kept everything on the downlow.
Sal Gabrini: Burning Love Page 12