“Who?” Mick asked his man.
“He says his name is Dodge.”
Trevor’s heartbeat quickened. “Take her inside, Big Daddy,” Trevor said as he pulled out his gun and began running down the steps toward the gate. Mick, Sal, Reno, and Tommy began running behind him, with all of the men pulling out their guns, too.
“Let’s go, ladies,” Big Daddy said to his wife and daughter as he quickly ushered them inside. He pulled out his own gun as he looked behind them, and then closed and locked the door. He felt the double pressure of having his wife and child caught up in this mess.
Outside, the security gate was opened as Trevor, Mick, and the Gabrinis ran up to it. Bobby Winshaw, Trevor’s detail chief, was standing at his SUV with Dodge as his prisoner. When Dodge saw Trevor and the firepower with him, he put up his hands.
“Who is he?” Sal asked when they saw him.
“The fucker who had something to do with that ambush in San Diego, and the attack on me and my station chief here in town,” Trevor said. “Scum, in other words,” he added as he grabbed Dodge from Bobby’s grasp. “Let’s go,” he said between clenched teeth and dragged Dodge toward the room-sized security booth.
Once at the booth, the security team stepped out, and Trevor pushed Dodge inside. Mick and the Gabrinis looked around and then went in too. Bobby went in behind them and closed the door behind them.
They stood back and watched.
“So why did you do it, Dodge?” Trevor asked him. “Why did you do it, motherfucker?” he added as he grabbed Dodge by his head and slammed it repeatedly against the wall. Then he grabbed him by his long, matted hair and slammed his face repeatedly into the wall until blood began to pour from a wound opening up on his forehead.
They all watched Trevor with rapt attention because they needed to know what he was made of. Was he tough enough to protect Carly, was their number one concern. By the time he finished with Dodge, and sat him down violently in one of the chairs, they were pleased that he had some stopping sense. They were pleased that he knew he had to beat Dodge’s ass, but not to the point where Dodge couldn’t give them the intel they needed. They were not accustomed to letting somebody else take the lead. But they knew, if they were ever going to take the measure of this man’s mettle, they had to this time. Mick especially paid closest attention.
“Now talk,” Trevor said after forcing Dodge into the chair.
Dodge attempted to smile, despite his injuries. “I heard you were looking for me,” he said.
Trevor knocked him hard across his face. “Talk, motherfucker!” he yelled.
Dodge was frowning now. “You were set up, alright?” he yelled back. “Is that what you wanna hear?”
“I wanna hear the truth!”
“You were set up!”
“Why?” Trevor asked. “Tell me why.”
“They needed you to take out Celletti.”
“I figured that shit out myself, asshole. Why did they need to take him out? Stop telling me what they needed. Tell me why they needed it.”
“We have an undercover man in his organization. Celletti got some intel while he was in prison that he had a mole in his crew. When he got out, he started asking the right questions. Getting too close. We needed to change the subject.”
“Who made the call?” Trevor asked. “Celletti’s men, or agency men?”
“Agency,” Dodge said.
“Who led the agency team?” Trevor asked. “You?”
The Gabrinis could see the hesitation in Dodge, which led them to know what the answer was before he said it. Mick wasn’t even looking at Dodge. He was still staring at Trevor.
Trevor slapped Dodge upside his head. “Was it you, motherfucker?”
“Yes!” Dodge said angrily. “I led the team.”
But instead of asking Dodge who led him, which would have been the only next question as far as Mick and the Gabrinis were concerned, Trevor went left. “Why was my PR Director placed on the kill list?” he asked.
Mick was pleased with the move. It showed that Carly was still Trevor’s paramount concern. Not his own safety. Not what they did to him. Carly. Mick needed to see that.
But Dodge looked at Trevor with confusion. “What PR Director?” he asked.
“Quit fucking with me, Dodge!”
“What PR Director?” Dodge asked angrily.
“Carly Sinatra, prick,” Trevor said. “You know who!”
Dodge shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “She was on no kill list of mine.”
This disturbed Trevor. He looked at Mick and the Gabrinis. “It’s possible,” Sal said, “if you were the real target.”
“You know how the government works,” Reno agreed. “They don’t ever want the right hand to know what the left hand is doing. I could see those assholes keeping their point man in the dark.”
Trevor wasn’t so sure, but he knew he had to move on. He looked at Dodge. He was ready to ask the ultimate question. “Who ordered the hit on me?” he asked.
Dodge smiled this time. “That will be my pleasure to answer,” he said.
“Then answer it!”
“Hammer!” Dodge spit out. “Hammer wanted you dead. Who else?”
All of the men looked at Trevor. None of them could imagine ordering a hit on their own brother. And they could see that Trevor was disturbed by it too. But he didn’t back off. “Where is he now?” he asked.
“He went to ground,” Dodge said.
“The Bunker?”
Dodge nodded. “Where else?”
Bobby pulled out a thumb drive and handed it to Trevor. “We found this on him, Boss,” he said.
Trevor took the thumb drive and looked at Dodge. “What the fuck is this?”
“He told me to give it to you,” Dodge said.
“My brother?”
“He told me to give it to you if you ever tracked me down. When I saw Bobby and your men, I turned it over right away. You can ask him.”
“He’s lying,” Bobby said. “I found it when I frisked his ass.”
“Hand it here,” Mick said, and took the thumb drive from Trevor. He walked over to the security apparatus and placed the drive into one of the numerous computers. Everybody gathered around. When names came up, a list of seven names, Trevor moved up closer.
“Who are they?” Tommy asked.
“Operatives,” Trevor said, reviewing the list.
“Government operatives?” Sal asked.
“Yep.” Remember what you said, Mick? Remember when you said we have to take out those agency fuckers one by one?”
Mick looked at Trevor. “I remember. Why?”
“These are the fuckers,” Trevor said, studying the names.
“Well alright,” Sal said.
“Let’s get a game plan,” Reno said, “and set this shit off.”
They began to leave. But they all glanced at Trevor as he looked as if he was going to follow them. Then they looked at each other. Did he understand what walking away meant? Would they have to do the job for him?
They realized they did not because, as soon as Trevor made it to the exit door, he turned back around, pulled out his gun, and fired it repeatedly into Dodge’s chest. Dodge fell out of the chair, and died.
Mick and the Gabrinis exhaled. He understood.
But he didn’t stop there. To their surprise, Trevor turned his weapon on Bobby, his detail chief. “Where are the men who betrayed my trust?” he asked him.
Bobby put up his hands in shock. Mick and the Gabrinis stopped and looked on too. “I’m working on it, Boss,” Bobby said.
But Trevor shook his head. “Not good enough,” he said. “You hired those assholes. I relied on you to hire the best. I dropped the ball when I hired you. You dropped the ball when you hired them. I have to live with my mistake. I’m not giving you that option.”
And Trevor shot Bobby Winshaw too.
Mick and the Gabrinis hated that it had to come to that, but the
y knew there was no other answer. Their motto was, if at all possible, to leave no stones unturned. They were pleased to discover that it was Trevor’s motto too.
Mick unlocked his arsenal and the Gabrinis, Big Daddy, and Trevor chose their weapons. Carly and Jenay were in the library, too, where the guns were hidden in a room-sized safe. They watched it all unfold with reluctance and anxiety in their hearts. Even for a seasoned pro like Jenay, who’d seen this play out countless times, it was still unnerving.
But when Trevor pulled out a small .45 and said, “this will do for Carly,” Jenay and Big Daddy’s temperature rose exponentially.
“For Carly?” Big Daddy asked. Carly and Jenay, along with Mick and the Gabrinis, were looking at him too.
“I want her armed,” Trevor said as he walked over to Carly and handed her the gun. “In case we run into trouble.”
Sal frowned. “We?” he asked him.
“What you mean we, Kemo sabe?” Reno asked him.
“She’s going with me,” Trevor said. “That’s what I mean.”
“Going with you?” Big Daddy asked incredulously.
“Come on, man,” Reno said. “That’s not how it’s done. Not in this family.”
“I know that’s right,” Sal agreed. “Taking her with you? What are you nuts?”
Trevor did not back down. “Where I go, she goes. I’m not leaving her behind.”
Carly defended Trevor. “I can handle it, Uncle Sal.”
“Who gives a fuck what you can handle?” Sal asked. “This isn’t about what you can handle. This is about your safety.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell,” Big Daddy said, “before you go on a kill run with anybody.”
“If my daughter is going,” Jenay said, “I’m going.”
That was the bridge too far for Charles. “I may not be able to tell Carly what to do anymore,” he said to Jenay. “She’s no longer under my roof. But I can tell you. You’re under my protection. I’m responsible for you. Your ass isn’t going anywhere.”
Jenay knew what that look on Big Daddy’s face meant. If she questioned his authority she would do so at her own risk. She decided against questioning it.
“Carly was nearly killed when she was out of my sight,” Trevor said, in an attempt to explain himself. “Until the threat is over, I’m keeping her in my sight. I’m keeping her near me.”
“That’s not how it works, son,” Reno said again. “We have a mission to perform. Her father will take care of her.”
But Trevor continued to hold firm. He was not convinced.
So much so that Reno smiled. He got it. “You don’t believe Big Daddy can take care of her,” he said as if it were a fact.
When Trevor didn’t dispute his charge, Reno shook his head. “Big Daddy, I’ll have you know,” he said, “can take care of you, me, and every motherfucker in this room.”
Trevor knew this was always going to be the fault line in his relationship with Carly. The Sinatra/Gabrini way, and his way. If he was any kind of man, he knew he had to do it the way he thought was best. “Mr. Sinatra can take care of her,” Trevor said. “I’m not questioning that. But he can’t take care of her better than I can.”
“You mean like you took care of her at that gas station?” Sal asked. “And I’m not trying to be cruel, but it’s a fact. We all have fallen short when it comes to our women. Including myself. But I’m just saying.”
Tommy, however, was staring at Trevor. They didn’t understand the depth of his feelings for Carly. He dropped the ball on her safety before, and it was killing him. They didn’t understand how fresh that wound still was. But taking Carly on what could potentially be a very dangerous run, was out of the question too.
“I’ll stay back too,” Tommy said. Everybody looked at him. “Between myself, Big Daddy, and Jenay, there’s not a fucker alive who can touch her.”
Trevor knew about Backdoor Tommy Gabrini. He’d heard he might just be the most ruthless of all the Gabrinis. And Trevor knew he was right. If Tommy Gabrini, Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, and Jenay Sinatra couldn’t protect Carly, how the hell did he think he was in any position to do a better job?
He got off of his position.
Carly looked at him with tears in her big eyes. Then she threw her arms around him. The other men, satisfied now that Trevor had come to his senses, continued to stockpile their arsenal.
Carly and Trevor stopped embracing and looked each other in the eyes. “Be careful,” she said. “And come back home to me.”
He placed both hands on the sides of her face and stared into her eyes. He was saddened that she would be here worrying, and comforted by knowing she would be here waiting for him. “From here on out,” he said to her, “my coming back home to you will go without saying.”
Carly smiled. That was so like Trevor to say such a thing. And she fell against him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The safe house outside of Montreal was the direct antithesis to Mick’s mansion-sized safe house outside of Boston. This was a bolt-hole they found themselves in. It was a Trevor Reese hideout when he ventured this far north, and it was tiny. So tiny that the entire space consisted of two mattresses on the floor, and a room-sized refrigerator stocked with water and beer.
But if they were going to approach the Bunker where his brother was hiding out, they had to do it in the early morning hours. Which meant they needed a very private, off-the-radar place to rest until that time arrived.
It was amusing to Trevor to see Mick the Tick Sinatra, and casino mogul Reno Gabrini, not to mention mob boss Sal Gabrini all try to make themselves comfortable in such a small, rundown-by-their-standards space. But Trevor never sought comfort whenever he was on assignment. It would have been inhuman to him, given what his assignments consisted of. But Reno and Sal, especially, were having a hard time.
“This is some cold shit right here,” Reno said as he stared down at the filthy mattress.
“There’s always the floor,” Trevor said with a smile.
Reno looked at him, not smiling at all. “What are you a wise guy? I don’t sleep on floors, motherfucker.”
Trevor laughed.
“Then make yourself at home,” Mick said with a smile, too, as he laid down on the mattress beside Trevor. Mick wore what he considered to be his all-weather fight clothes: black trousers, black turtleneck, with both layered beneath a white, full-length overcoat.
Sal looked at Reno as he laid down beside him. “Why do I always end up with you?” he asked.
“You aren’t exactly my dream man either, honey,” he replied.
Sal frowned. “Who the fuck you calling honey?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“It doesn’t fit,” Sal said.
“It fits alright,” Reno responded. “It fits your soft ass, alright.”
“My ass harder than yours.”
“Ain’t no ass been invented that’s harder than mine,” Reno boasted.
“You’re confusing your ass with your head,” Sal said.
“Yeah, right. Your ass soft. Just like your dick.”
Mick had had it. “Shut the fuck up!” he said.
Both Reno and Sal weren’t his boys. They weren’t about to take that lying down. They leaned their heads up and looked at Mick as if he had lost his damn mind. “You shut the fuck up!” they both yelled as one. “Fuck you!” Reno added.
Mick and Trevor both leaned their heads up and looked at the Gabrinis. Trevor wondered, as they had wondered about Mick, if they had lost their damn minds, too, talking to Mick the Tick that way. And then Mick quickly rose to his feet. Reno and Sal quickly rose to theirs. Trevor stood too, ready to go to battle on the Sinatra side of this family. Carly’s side of this family.
But as it became a staring contest, Trevor became worried. There was too much testosterone in this room for it to ever end well. Way too much. He was hoping cooler heads would prevail because if any of them started drawing weapons, they would all be doomed.
The others knew it too. They stared at each other a moment longer, and then all three, as if they had timed their decision perfectly, got back onto their respective mattresses. No handshakes. No apologies. No excuses. They had too much to lose to let emotion overrule their sense. And they had a full workload ahead of them. They got themselves some sleep.
Early the next morning, they arose with the roosters, got in their SUV, and made their way toward the Quebec province of Montreal. They didn’t bring backup: just themselves. Trevor was convinced that his brother was not involved, and it was all lies linking him to the ambush. But he had to hear it from the horse’s mouth. And he knew, if he were to bring an army with him, he would not get so much as an audience with his brother. They traveled weapon-heavy, but man-light.
Trevor drove the SUV, with Sal on the front seat beside him, and Mick and Reno on the seats behind them. He drove along a long stretch of backroads. He wanted to arrive in town with as little detection as possible. He wanted to arrive at his brother’s bunker undeterred.
“Where exactly is this bunker?” Sal asked Trevor.
“Near Bonsecours Market. A few blocks over.”
Reno frowned. “What bunker would be near that place? It’s a busy place.”
Trevor picked up speed. “My brother hides in plain sight,” he said. “His bunker is hidden in plain sight too.”
“Not much of a hiding place,” Sal said, “if that clown Dodge knew about it.”
“He didn’t know about it,” Trevor said. “The Bunker he knew about hadn’t been my brother’s hiding place in years.”
Reno smiled. “Shit,” he said.
“Nobody knows that but me,” Trevor added.
“If you’re so tight with this brother of yours,” Mick asked, “why would he authorize a hit on you?”
Trevor glanced through the rearview at Mick. “I don’t believe he did,” he said, although the doubt in his eyes belied that belief.
Reno could tell Trevor was in denial, and he was about to tell him so. But he didn’t get the chance. A tractor-trailer truck, coming at them from a side street they were about to cross, and coming at them at a breakneck speed, rammed into the driver’s side of the SUV as if it were a bumper car. The SUV went careening out of control, spinning and spinning and then losing total traction, flipping and flipping and flipping. All of the men wore seatbelts, so none were thrown out of the vehicle to what would have been their certain deaths.
Trevor Reese: His Secret Love Page 16