Big Daddy Sinatra: Charles In Charge (Big Daddy Sinatra Series Book 6)

by Mallory Monroe

  “But it is an issue,” she said to Charles. “When I resigned as District Attorney, I thought I would enjoy working for you. And I do. And I’ll continue to, even in my new position. But it’s not enough. I’m not stretching myself at all. I thought Brent of all people would understand that.”

  “All Brent understands is family, Makayla. Family and duty. He thought you would understand that too.”

  Makayla exhaled. Tears appeared in her eyes. “What am I supposed to do, Dad? Give up my dreams? I didn’t expect to be invited to join Johnson’s law firm. But it’s happened. And I realized, when he asked, how much I still wanted it.”

  Charles’s heart went out to her. And he went to her and pulled her into his arms. She was a good woman, and the perfect mate for Brent. “I know how you feel, sweetheart,” he said. Then he stopped embracing her and pulled her back, and looked into her tear-stained eyes. He held his hands on her arms. “I know this is difficult for you. But you didn’t marry a man of the world, Kayla. You married Brent. And you’ve either got to get him to see your point, and live your dream. Or leave him alone altogether if that dream means that much to you.”

  “But I love him,” Makayla said.

  “Which do you love more?” Charles asked. “I’m sorry that it comes down to that. But it does.”

  The tears came harder, and Makayla fell, once again, into Charles’s arms.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The dinner table was already festive, and the family was nearing the end of their meal, when Robert Sinatra finally showed up.

  “For a mayor,” Donnie said, “you’re always late.”

  “Better late than never,” Robert said as he made his way to the head of the table where his father and, to the right of his father, his stepmother sat. “I am campaigning you know. I had several campaign stops before I could get here. It’s amazing I’m here at all.”

  “That special election is still months away,” Tony said, “but everybody’s campaigning.”

  “Hey, Ma,” Robert said as he kissed Jenay on the cheek. “Hey, Pop.” He kissed him too. “Move down one, Donnie,” he said to his younger brother as he patted him on the arm.

  But Donnie objected. “Why I got to move?”

  Jenay smiled and shook her head. “They still, to this day, jockey for position to be closest to you, Charlie.”

  “It’s been that way all their lives,” said Tony, who sat beside Makayla while Brent sat at the head of the opposite end of the table.

  “Ah, Tony, don’t even try that,” Ashley said. “You be jockeying too. You want to be next to Dad too. You’re just sneakier with your jockey,” she added, and they all laughed.

  “Come on, Don, move down,” Robert insisted. “This is your mayor talking.”

  “Not for long,” Donnie said as he and then Ashley moved down a seat. “If the polls are accurate.”

  Robert glanced at his father. They both knew how close the race was, and how easily it could all go downhill. The race was a dead heat, and would be decided within the next three months. “Don’t be so impolite,” Robert said as he took Donnie’s now abandoned seat. “If you truly cared you’d be out beating the pavement for me, getting the word out to your friends and associates.”

  “I do beat the pavement for you,” Donnie said. “I’ve gotten the word out to everybody I know. My friends are going to vote for you.”

  “Mine too,” Ashley said.

  “Our friends are not the problem,” Donnie said. “The power structure in this town is the problem. They’re the ones trying to stop you. They’re the ones who want no parts of anything Sinatra. I’m not your problem. Your name is.”

  Robert looked at his younger brother. He and Donnie were the only two of Charles’s male children to have blonde hair and blue eyes. The rest of his sons looked more like him: dark hair, green eyes. And although he and Donnie disagreed on virtually everything, he agreed with Donnie on that score. “Nothing I can do about my name,” he said. “I’m proud of my name.”

  “Damn right,” Charles said. “And forget that power structure. You’ve got to fight the power. Pound the pavement yourself. Leave no stone unturned. Get the masses to vote for you and you’ll win. You’ll be okay.”

  Donald and Ashley were grinning and glancing at each other.

  “What?” Robert asked.

  “Dad actually said fight the power,” Donald said. “When he is the power.”

  Robert rolled his eyes and looked at Tony.

  “I know,” Tony said. “They’re special.”

  Robert laughed.

  “Don’t worry, Bob,” Charles said. “You’ll come out on top.”

  Robert smiled, and actually felt better. He loved his father’s confidence in him. When nobody believed in him, he could always count on Big Daddy. And Jenay too, whom he also adored. “Where’s Bonita?” he asked. “Where’s Junior?”

  “Nita and Junior are in the game room. They ate quickly so they could get back to their games.”

  “I’m surprised they aren’t at each other’s throats yet,” Makayla said with a smile.

  Tony looked at her. “You mean like you and Brent are?” he asked.

  Tony was no bullshit artist. He told them like it was, and everybody in the family expected it from him. But still.

  “Stay in your lane, Anthony,” Jenay warned him. Even she was leaving it up to Charles to act as mediator alone. Even she was staying out of it.

  “I’ve just been hearing rumors of love on the rocks around here,” Tony said. “I’m just hoping that’s not true.”

  But nobody would deny it. Not Makayla. And certainly not Brent. They both continued to eat their dinner.

  “And what’s this I hear about a drive-by at Lou Fontaine’s today?” Robert asked his father. “First I heard Brent was involved. Then, just before I came over, I hear you and Ma were there, too. And that there was some kind of break-in at your office the day before. Is that all true?”

  “There was a drive-by today?” Makayla asked nervously, looking at Brent. “Are you okay?”

  Brent quickly reassured her. Although they were on awful terms, he still didn’t want her worrying about him needlessly. “I’m okay,” he said.

  “Did you catch the shooter?” she asked.

  “No. They got away.”

  “But was there a nexus? Was it related to that break-in at Dad’s office?” Makayla asked.

  “Had to be,” Charles said. “The two punks who broke into my office claimed Lou Fontaine paid them to do it. That’s why we were over there. We later found out they worked for her.”

  “Are they still cooperating?” Makayla asked. “Or have they asked for lawyers?”

  “They lawyered up,” Brent said. “So they now claim they have nothing to do with it and they never told Dad anything about anything.” Then he looked at Charles and Jenay. “And we couldn’t connect that other guy to any of it either.” The other guy was Percy.

  “But what does Miss Fontaine have to do with this?” Tony asked.

  Brent and Robert already knew the answer. They looked at their father to tell it. Charles exhaled. “She died,” he said, “in that shootout this afternoon.”

  “Oh, no!” Makayla said. They all were horrified to hear the news.

  Tony shook his head. “Drive-bys in Jericho. And it’s not all that uncommon anymore either. What with that opioid epidemic hitting us as hard as New Hampshire. And now a life has been taken. From one of our oldest families. Do you guys have any idea what it’s all about?”

  Charles easily answered that one. “No, we don’t,” he said. “A bullshit break-in at my office, leads to one of our most prominent citizens murdered, and we don’t have a damn clue why.”

  It was a sobering assessment that caused Charles and Jenay to exchange glances.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Brent and Makayla returned home to a quiet house. While Junior took himself to bed, Brent went to the bar to pour himself a stiff one, and Makayla headed upstairs,
to their en-suite bathroom, to soak in the tub. Their married life wasn’t turning out the way they could have ever dreamed, but they weren’t interested in putting an end to it either. It was as if they were in a prison they both erected, but neither one of them knew how to get out.

  Especially Brent. He couldn’t get past his own anger. And he was fuming as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He thought this shit had been dealt with early in their relationship. He thought she had decided that Jericho was a good place to raise a family, and to be with him, and it was settled.

  But now she was talking about working out of Boston every day, and commuting, which, he knew, was a load of crap. Four hours both ways every single day? And he knew Makayla. She was a dedicated lawyer. She almost always worked well into the night. There was no way she was suddenly going to pull a nine-to-five schedule working for a high-powered lawyer like that Johnson Dash was purported to be. No way. And given Makayla’s skills as a lawyer, it would only be a matter of time when that Dash fellow would want a lawyer of her caliber in California with him.

  California, Brent thought, as he took another drink. There was no way in hell he was going to uproot his son and move that far away from his family, from his father, like that. But what would happen then? Makayla would be in too deep to turn back, and their marriage, once again, would be on the line. It would be a catch-22. A Hobson’s choice. A choice, Brent thought as he drank down the remaining whiskey, he wasn’t going to make.

  He made his way upstairs. He checked on his son again, who was already asleep, and then made his way to his bedroom.

  When he entered the bedroom, he could see his wife through the opened bathroom door. She was naked, and about to get in the tub. Her body was full-figured: big breasts, narrow waist, a big ass, and Brent went hard just looking at her. He wanted her so badly he could taste his need. But how could he just go to her, and make love to her, when she was ready to decimate their family for her own selfish ambition? He couldn’t see it. No matter how he sliced it, he couldn’t see how this was right.

  And then she got in the tub, and that was that.

  Brent removed his clothes, and got in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Jenay was on her knees, holding onto the headboard, and Charles was fucking her from behind. The sound of him slapping hard against her ass, and her moans and groans, filled their room like music in a juke joint. Charles held her cheeks apart, as if he needed the maximum room, and pushed deeper and deeper inside of her, pulling almost out, and even further in. Over and over. As if his penis was a fine-tuned instrument.

  And he worked it hard. He couldn’t stop grinding on her. He even removed his hands from her ass, and began squeezing her breasts as he did her. He kept repeating ooh, and kept fucking harder, until his ability to keep it at that special edge tipped over.

  And he pushed in all the way, straining every muscle, and stayed in. He came hard and he came long. So hard and so long that Jenay came too. And her orgasm was so intense that she was bending over just to be able to bear it.

  When the feelings slowed and then finally ended, Charles leaned against Jenay and Jenay remained against the headboard. He kissed her on the neck, and then the back, and then grabbed her and fell over on his back, onto the bed, holding her. It had been a rough day, but Charles and Jenay were satisfied. The edge, at least, was off.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After a quiet weekend, where Brent worked endless hours and he and Makayla had reached some kind of unspoken truce, that dreaded day finally arrived. Monday morning. And Makayla woke up alone in bed.

  Not that it was unusual. It wasn’t. Brent had been leaving early and coming home late ever since he was reinstated as police chief. And when she went downstairs, to check on Junior, it was no surprise that he had already taken Junior to school. It was sad that she didn’t get to say goodbye to him before they left, since she was going to be working in another state for the first time today, and then commuting back home. But it wasn’t Brent’s fault. She could have remembered to tell him to wake her up when they were ready to go.

  She went back upstairs, took a long shower, and then brushed and gargled and dressed for work. She felt good and knew she looked good. She would be working out of Johnson Dash’s Boston, Mass office. A big deal by any metric. And this was her first day.

  She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker lately, so she drank juice instead and began eating a bagel. And then she was off.

  She went out of the front door, locked it, and then headed across the porch and down the steps. But when she got outside, she stopped in her tracks. Not with alarm, but with confusion. Brent was there, and his truck was there. But he was leaning, not against his truck, but against what looked to be a brand new, fire-red Chrysler 300. The very car Makayla had been eyeing to buy. The very car Makayla first wanted to get situated in her career again before she pulled the trigger.

  But Brent, apparently, had pulled it for her.

  Or had he?

  She walked over to him, with her briefcase in one hand and her half-eaten bagel in another hand. And she found herself afraid to ask.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  She looked at the car. It was beautiful! Then she looked at Brent. “I thought you had taken Junior to school and had gone to work.”

  “I took him to school,” Brent said, “but I haven’t gotten to work yet.” He leaned up and dangled the car keys. “I wanted to give you this first.”

  Makayla’s heart soared. “What do you mean, Brent? You bought this for me?”

  “Since you’re going to be commuting five days out of the week, you’ll need a new car. I know you’ve been thinking about purchasing this one for some time now. I figured it was high time.”

  Tears began to appear in Makayla’s eyes as she accepted the keys.

  “I don’t want to hold you back, Kay,” Brent said. “I want you to be the best you can be. You know that. I don’t wanna lose you. Let’s try to make this work again.”

  Makayla dropped her briefcase and fell into Brent’s arms. Her tears were uncontrollable now, but she didn’t care.

  After a long embrace, where being in his arms again felt like being protected again, she finally leaned back and looked at him. “Thank you, Brent,” she said, wiping her tears of joy. “And I know my decision isn’t what you prefer. Thank you.”

  Brent pulled her back into his arms, and held her tighter. He had his wife back. But he still didn’t know if they would ever get their life back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Jaguar parked in the slanted driveway and Charles got out, placed his sunglasses on the top of his head, and made his way into the Jericho Police Department.

  Brent was in his office upstairs, according to the desk sergeant, and Charles made his way in that direction. Cops were hurrying down as Charles made his way up, all with their hey, Big Daddy greetings as if they knew him like that, and Charles waved and returned their greetings without concern. His days of worrying about that stupid-ass nickname were long behind him. Right now, he was worried about those stupid-ass thugs who attempted to handle him, and what progress was being made about who killed Lou Fontaine.

  Brent was behind his desk with a stack of folders in front of him when Charles knocked once, and then walked on in. Brent leaned back when he looked up, and saw who it was. His green eyes looked tired.

  “Your secretary isn’t at her desk,” Charles said as he headed toward his son.

  “She’s out sick today. Although I think it was more of a I need a day away from my boss sick day.”

  Charles smiled. “Best kind of sick there is.”

  Brent smiled too. “Sit down. Where were you headed?”

  “To the office, where else? I was also thinking about dropping by the Inn and taking Jenay to lunch.”

  Brent nodded. “She’d like that, Pop,” Brent said. “You should do it.”

  “Speaking of a wife liking her husband to do nice things for her,
” Charles said, “what have you done for Makayla lately?”

  Brent just sat there, his tired eyes staring at his father. “I bought her a car.”

  Charles was impressed. He even smiled. “Really? I didn’t know she was in the market for a new car. I hope you got a good deal.”

  “I’m chief of police, Dad. Nobody’s stiffing me.”

  Charles laughed. “What did you get her?”

  “What I knew she wanted. A Chrysler 300. A red one.”

  “Oh, that’s a beautiful car. I am impressed.” But it still didn’t add up for Charles. “May I ask why you suddenly brought her a car?”

  “For her commute,” Brent said. “It began today.”

  Charles was pleased. He nodded. “So you guys resolved it, then?”

  But Brent wasn’t ready to go that far. “Are we trying to make it work? Yes. Have we resolved it? No.”

  Charles appreciated his honesty. That was one of Brent’s greatest attributes, Charles felt: his ability to admit the error of his ways. “Talk to her, son. You and Makayla have got to talk this out.”

  “Brent couldn’t disagree. “That’s true,” he said.

  “Then what are you waiting on? She’s working for the guy now. Guess what, pal? That part is over. You’ve got to figure out how you can live with her decision.”

  “I know that too.”

  “But?”

  Charles could tell it was weighing heavily on Brent, and he really didn’t want to go there with anyone, not even Charles. But he eventually leaned forward in his chair, and exhaled. “I’m not good enough for her, Pop,” he said.