Tommy Gabrini: The Grace Factor

by Mallory Monroe

  Grace could tell he was worried about her, when she knew worrying about her was the last thing he needed to be concerned with. And she didn’t hesitate. She quickly stepped forward. “We trust you, Tommy,” she said. “Go. Take care of the men. We’ll be okay.”

  When she said those words of unconditional support, Tommy’s heart swelled with emotion. She was in the fire, alright, but she wasn’t getting burned.

  And Tommy hurried out. Because he had a job to do. Because he had to protect their fallen men. He had to secure the premises where they would be fighting for their lives. And just as importantly, he had to find out who in the world caused this fight in the first place.

  The Director of Hospital Operations opened the door of the doctors’ lounge and the chief of surgery, along with two other doctors, looked up.

  “Everybody’s needed,” the director ordered. “We have a mass shooting on our hands.”

  The doctors began to rise. “What is it this time?” the chief asked as he began putting on his lab coat. “A school shooting?”

  “No.”

  “A church bombing?”

  “No,” the director said.

  “Then what, Abe?”

  “Tommy Gabrini’s brother has been shot.”

  “Tommy Gabrini?” a second doctor asked. He was putting on his lab coat too. “The CEO of the Gabrini Corporation? That Tommy Gabrini?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “His brother was shot? But isn’t his brother a mob boss?”

  “That’s what I’m hearing,” the director said. “And it’s not just him. But the owner of the PaLargio has been shot too.”

  “The PaLargio on the Vegas Strip?” a third doctor asked. “Damn!”

  “And that’s not all.”

  “More casualties?”

  “Many more. Their bodyguards and what have you. And Tommy Gabrini’s uncle, a guy named Mick Sinatra, was hit too. And gentlemen, there may be doubt about the others and their mob ties, but there’s no doubt about this Mick Sinatra character. From what I’ve been told, he’s all mob.”

  “And they’re coming to our hospital?”

  “They’re on their way as we speak. This is being classified as an organized crime hit so the FBI are on their way too.”

  “The FBI?”

  “Absolutely! There may be retaliation and all kinds of repercussions. This is big!”

  The doctors hurried out of the lounge and onto the elevator while the director made a quick stop at the nurse’s station. “Contact Security,” he ordered the head nurse. “Tell Phil to get every available guard on his staff in the ER stat. No exceptions.”

  “Yes, sir,” the nurse replied, and immediately picked up the phone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It would be three am the next morning when Tommy would give the all-clear and Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, fronted by a convoy of security that was five SUVs deep, arrived at the Seattle hospital with Trina, Gemma, Roz, and Grace. Grace was there for support and comfort for the stricken ladies, but she was also there to make certain Tommy was holding up alright.

  But when Big Daddy saw the level of security at the hospital, he could hardly believe it. You would think the President of the United States had been admitted. Reno’s men were in town. Sal’s men were in town. Mick’s men were in town. Tommy’s men were all around. The hospital, inside and out, was surrounded with Gabrini and Sinatra strongmen. It was insane.

  The ladies got out of the SUV and were quickly, with Big Daddy leading the way, ushered into the hospital. All three men were out of surgery, were still under anesthetic but recovering, and had been placed in a room together on an unfinished wing of the sizeable hospital. It was the only way the staff could manage the onslaught of security, the FBI, the local police, and the media all at the same time. Because of who had been shot, because of word that Reno Gabrini, the owner of the PaLargio, and two, not one, but two reputed mob bosses were down, the media had been out in force too. But now it was three a.m., the media, the cops, and even the FBI, who questioned Tommy at length, had long gone. Quiet reigned, and Tommy guarded that room, and those men, with his life.

  When Trina and Gemma and Roz ran in, each hurrying to the bedside of their respective husband, and Big Daddy joined Roz at Mick’s bedside, the surgeons came in to give each one a status report. The message was general: that all three would pull through, but there were individual notes too. Tommy pulled Grace aside while the doctors conferred with the wives, and pulled her into his arms. It was the first sense of security he had felt since the shooting. When they stopped embracing, anguish was in his big, tired eyes.

  “Are you alright?” he asked her.

  “I’m absolutely fine,” Grace said, placing a hand on the side of his face. “Don’t you dare worry about me. It’s you I’m concerned about.”

  Tommy ran his hand through his hair. “I’m okay,” he said. “What about Destiny and the other children?”

  “They’re all good. Between all of those Sinatra young guns and Jimmy Mack, not to mention the army of men you have surrounding the safe house, they’re just fine too.” Then she smiled. “Reno’s youngest son has placed himself in charge of the children. He’s just a baby himself, but he says he’s in charge and for none of us to worry.”

  Tommy smiled. “That’s Dommi,” he said. Then his look turned anguished again as he looked over at the downed men.

  “What did the doctors say?” Grace asked.

  “They all should pull through. Reno got the worst of it, but they all are expected to make it.”

  “Thank God,” Grace said.

  Then Branson Nash knocked once. Big Daddy, who had left Mick’s side and was now guarding the door, allowed him passage in. Branson motioned at Tommy.

  “I’ll be back, babe,” he said to Grace, and kissed her on the lips.

  Grace made her way over to the other wives, to offer them comfort, as Tommy, Branson, and Big Daddy stepped out into the hospital corridor. Tommy was anxious because he could tell Branson had news.

  “What is it?” he asked him.

  “None of the guys we killed were local.”

  “None of them?” Tommy asked. “Usually an out-of-town hit would have local hired guns with them. Unless they were the ones in that ambush car that got away.”

  “It’s possible,” Branson said, “but here’s the thing, boss: it wasn’t an out-of-town hit.”

  Tommy frowned. “What do you mean? If it wasn’t local, what are you saying?”

  “We were able to ID every one of those fallen fuckers. And everyone is European.”

  Tommy was surprised. “European?”

  “Not one, and I mean not one is from the United States. They were all here on passports. Claiming to be on vacation.”

  Tommy was thinking now. He began pacing. An army of men were in the corridor too, guarding the hospital room itself, and even they were surprised by the news.

  Big Daddy Charles Sinatra looked at Branson. He had stark bright eyes that showed his emotional drain too. “European hit men,” Charles said. “How unusual is that?”

  “Very unusual,” Branson said. “Like never happens unusual,” he added.

  “Then why would Europeans want to take out our family?” Charles asked Tommy. “Could it be business-related? I know Mick has a lot of overseas business activities.”

  “Yeah, Sal and I do too. And Reno’s corporation has a lot of overseas traffic.” Then Tommy stopped in his tracks. He looked at Branson. “Where did they come from? Where in Europe?”

  “Naples, according to the passports we confiscated at the scene.”

  It wasn’t Dubai, his last known location, Tommy thought, but it was Europe. Word was he had made it to Europe. Tommy hurried back into the hospital room. Charles and Branson hurried in behind him.

  “Gem,” Tommy said with a wave of the hand, and Gemma, seeing the urgency on his face, made her way over to him.

  “Yes, Tommy, what is it?” she asked.

  �
��What do you know about Carmine Fontaine?”

  “Who?”

  “Karen’s brother. Remember Karen? The woman who was in love with your sister. The woman who tried to take me out? The woman whose brother nearly did take me out?”

  “No, I know who you mean,” Gemma said. “But you think her brother could be involved in something like this?”

  “He was involved in that ambush in Chicago. Hell yeah, I believe it. And the shooters, at least the ones we were able to take out, were all Europeans. All from Naples. We tracked Carmine down as far as Dubai, but he got away. He was last thought to be somewhere in Europe. And since he’s Italian, Naples sounds reasonable. Have you heard anything?”

  “No,” Gemma said, thinking as she shook her head. “Not a thing. But you think he’s got something to do with this?”

  “I’ve got a hunch. One I intend to look into. But thanks.”

  “Wish I could be more help,” Gemma said as she made her way back to watch over Sal. Tommy called over Grace.

  Grace hurried to his side. “What’s happened?” she asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Tommy said, holding her arm. “But I have to make a run. You want to stay here with the ladies, or go back to the safe house?” He wanted her back at the safe house, with their daughter, but he was learning. She had a right to make up her own mind.

  “The safe house,” she said. “I know the children are in good hands, and well protected, but I want to be there with Destiny. I just needed to make sure you were holding up okay.”

  Tommy smiled and squeezed her arm. Then a frowned look appeared on his face as he continued to absently squeeze her arm. “Some deal you got,” he said. “You marry me one minute, and in a shootout the next. I’m some prize.”

  “Yes, you are,” Grace said heartfelt. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Tommy smiled.

  “But where are you headed? You know who did this?”

  “I have some idea. One of the guys we hit is still breathing. I want to see what he knows.”

  Grace understood.

  “Say your goodbyes to the ladies,” he said to her. “I’ll drop you off.”

  The ride to drop Grace off was a quiet drive as Tommy wrapped his arms around Grace and Grace snuggled against him. Four SUVs followed them. Two in front, and two in back, as the heightened security continued.

  Grace looked up at Tommy and saw the strain on his face. “You know who’s responsible for this, don’t you?”

  Tommy nodded. “I think so.”

  “Who?”

  “A gangster by the name of Carmine Fontaine.”

  “Did he intend to take everybody out?”

  “Not Mick. Mick wasn’t involved. But he wanted Reno and Sal for sure.”

  “Why?”

  “His sister was killed when she tried to take me out. Reno killed her, but there were rumors that Sal had actually pulled the trigger. He wanted to take them both out, just in case, is what I’m guessing.”

  “What about you?”

  “He already tried to take me out,” Tommy said. “If it wasn’t for Liz, he would have succeeded.”

  Grace had heard about that awful night in Chicago. She was eternally grateful to Liz.

  “But I don’t think this hit was about that,” Tommy said. “I think this was about avenging his sister’s death. And then again, I may be wrong. This may not have anything to do with that bastard. But I’ll find out.”

  Then he looked at Grace. “Welcome to the family,” he said to her.

  Grace smiled. “I’m proud to be a Gabrini, Tommy.”

  “Even on nights like this?”

  “Especially on nights like this. You didn’t do anything to them. They brought this fight to you. Am I supposed to be upset that you’re fighting back?” She shook her head. “No. Because the safest place for me and my child is with you and your family. I know that now. I was with Ed. I wasn’t with any gangsters. I was with a respected neurosurgeon. How safe was that?”

  Tommy understood exactly what she meant. He placed his arm around her. “You won’t regret it, Grace,” he said. “And if you do, if this gets too hot for you, I’ll carry you. You hear me? I’ll carry you through.”

  “And if it gets too hot for you,” Grace said. “I’ll carry you through.”

  Tommy smiled. And then he laughed, snuggling her closer against him. Grace laughed too. His laughter encouraged hers.

  He was in bad shape by the time Tommy arrived, but he was still alive. Tommy walked around the room with his hands in the pockets of his tux, and his bowtie skewed sideways. His hair was a mess, almost as wild as Reno’s hair, and his face sported a five-o-clock shadow. But every one of his men in that safe house were still amazed at how great he looked. And how firmly in control he was of this horrific situation.

  Tommy finally stopped walking, turned the chair around that was placed in front of the perp, and straddled it. He rested his elbows on the back of the chair and stretched his arms forward, his Rolex gleaming. He was a patient man. But his slow, deliberate style was trying the patience of every man in that house.

  “Where’s Carmine Fontaine?” he asked.

  His men were surprised. Who the fuck was Carmine Fontaine? But from the look on the perp’s bruised face, he knew exactly who Tommy was talking about.

  But yet he played dumb. “Who’s that?”

  Reno or Sal would have busted a cap in his ass just for fucking with them, but Tommy was not Reno nor Sal. He remained calm. “At least you didn’t pretend to not speak English.” Tommy said this and smiled. “What’s your name?” he asked him.

  The man was in pain. He didn’t give a fuck. “Joe,” he said, throwing any name out there.

  “Regular Joe?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Your last name, Regular?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  The guards looked at each other. Who did this character think he was dealing with? But like so many others, he was underestimating Tommy too.

  “Do you have a wife, Regular?” Tommy asked him.

  He looked at Tommy.

  “What about children? What about a mother and a father?”

  “What are you . . . What do you mean?”

  Tommy had hit a chord. The guy looked downright terrified.

  “If you don’t tell me everything I ask you about Carmine Fontaine, and you don’t tell me right now, I will have my people track down your entire extended family and, to put it mildly, murder them.” Then Tommy calmed back down. “Start talking,” he ordered his captive. “Or the pain you’re feeling now will pale in comparison to the pain your loved ones will feel. Talk.”

  And just like that, Regular Joe became a regular snitch and started singing like a canary. Tommy shot him through the forehead when he was done.

  Carmine Fontaine and his skeleton crew of men were in the trailer in the woods, and their disgraced doctor was working frantically to save the man that had been hit.

  “How many did we lose?” Carmine asked.

  Lucenti, his number one, didn’t understand. “Everybody,” he said. “But us. We’re all that’s left. What are you asking that for?”

  Carmine had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He took a big gulp. He belched. “We got those bastards, though,” he said. “They didn’t see it coming, and we got those bastards! They took my sister out, I took them out.”

  “Mick the Tick was there,” Lucenti said. “That’s a problem. I saw Mick the Tick!”

  “So what? We got him too. His people won’t lay a finger on us because we’re the phantom of their gotdamn opera. We’ll be out of the country as soon as the dust clears, and nobody will be the wiser. They won’t trace those men to me. Our mission is accomplished. We got those bastards!”

  “All but Tommy Gabrini,” Lucenti reminded him.

  “Ah, who cares?”

  Carmine’s man, the one on the operating table, screeched out in pain. “Shut the fuck up!” Carmine yelled back, and then maliciously p
oured whiskey on his man’s wound. The man yelled louder, lifting his upper body from the table. Carmine laughed, as the doctor, horrified and scared, tried to frantically wipe away the liquid.

  “Who the fuck is Tommy Gabrini anyway?” Carmine asked again. “He’s just the lover boy. I’ll take care of him later. It’s the fighters I wanted. It’s the Reno and Sal assholes I wanted taken out. And we got those motherfuckers!”

  “And Mick the Tick too,” another one of Carmine’s men said. “There’s going to be hell to pay for taking out that asshole.”

  Suddenly the house went completely black.

  “What the fuck?” Lucenti asked, as they all looked around.

  Carmine didn’t say a word. He reached for his gun and quickly rolled onto the floor. His men, following his lead, did likewise. But just as they did, shots rang out from what felt like a phantom visitor. They began shooting back, in the direction of the shots, but they were just shooting in the dark. Carmine couldn’t see shit, but he fired bullet after bullet after bullet. He could hear his men falling. He could hear his wounded man dying. But he kept on shooting. Nobody was taking him out!

  And then suddenly the lights were back on. What he heard was true. Every last one of his men had been taken out. But nobody was there. Where were the gunmen that had been gunning for him? Not a soul was seen where he had been shooting!

  Then he felt a presence behind him. He turned quickly, his gun aiming. Tommy Gabrini, flanked by Branson Nash and five of Tommy’s other men, were standing there. And every last one of their weapons were trained on Carmine’s terrified face.

  “Looking for me?” Tommy asked.

  “Ah, fuck,” Carmine said, knowing the gig was up. Branson Nash kicked the gun out of Carmine’s hand.

  “I heard you’ve been plotting my demise,” Tommy said, “and my brother and cousin’s demise, for all this time. Just plotting and scheming. After all this time. And what did it get you? You know what it got you? It got you this,” Tommy said, and aimed his rifle away from Carmine’s face, and down to his genitals.