“The offer was still on the table. She took it off the table. Jenay Sinatra will be the queen.”
Jenay saw the distress on Paige’s face, and it made it all worthwhile. She smiled too. “Oh, well,” she said, “I guess you’ll have to think up something else.”
“And if you do,” Charles said, “if it involves my wife or family in any way, you won’t be able to think up anything else. What Willie did is on Willie. But if you hatch anymore schemes involving my family, that’s going to be on you.”
When Charles and Jenay finally left, Paige fell against the door. Petty, he said. How could he consider an honor like that, to be Founder’s Day queen, petty?
Makayla Ross sipped more coffee as she stood at her conference table and reviewed a series of witness statements. She was attempting to put them in the order that she planned to call each witness to the stand. She was set to begin a new trial next week, in Portland, Maine, and she had to prepare.
Her office door opened and Lannie, her assistant, walked in. “You have company, Kay.”
“Who? Jack?”
“A guy named Brent Sinatra. Or as I call him: Beautiful Brent. That hair and that face and that body, oh my!”
“Get a hold of yourself,” Makayla said, “and send him in.”
When her assistant left, Makayla exhaled. She had missed Brent terribly, but she wasn’t going to beat a dead horse. Especially after she got the news.
Brent walked in. And his angry face said it all. “I see you’ve heard the news.”
“Why the reversal?” he asked.
“How have you been?”
“Why the reversal?” Brent asked again.
Makayla hesitated, and then began walking toward her desk.
Brent watched her walked and his dick throbbed just looking at her. He missed her too. But fuck that. This news was devastating.
“My boss has been appointed Assistant Attorney General. He leaves for Washington in a few weeks. I’ve been appointed his assistant.”
“Why the reversal?” Brent asked for the third time. Telling him that she was going to be leaving for D.C. wasn’t good news to him. But that was beside the point.
“They found out about our relationship,” she said.
Brent was confused. “What about our relationship?”
“Apparently I was followed. My boss had pictures of you visiting me at my house, and the two of us having sexual contact.”
Brent was stunned. “Somebody recorded it?”
“Yes. And don’t ask me who. But if that news gets out it can ruin my boss’s appointment. He felt he had to reverse it because requesting a new trial may look like I was granting my lover favors, that’s how he put it. So he ordered me to reverse the decision. We requested immediate release. The judge will make the final decision.” She looked at Brent heartfelt. “I’m sorry, Brent,” she added.
“Why couldn’t you phone me? Why did I have to find out from one of my men? And now you casually tells me you’re moving to D.C. Well great for you. Not so great for my father, but great for you.”
“I was trying to spare your feelings.”
“You were sparing your feelings. Because you could have phoned me. And why do you have to follow your boss everywhere he goes? I thought you loved your independence.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you following him?” Then Brent hesitated. He had a thought. “Is the Attorney General the man you recently broke up with? Is he your ex?”
Makayla stared at him, and then nodded her head. “Yes,” she said.
Brent stared at her. “I was under the impression your ex had cheated on you.”
“He had.”
Brent shook his head. “Yet you follow him anyway. But anything for your career, right?”
“It’s not like that. I loved him.”
“Still do apparently.”
“It’s going to take time, Brent.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s not my business. I’m just disappointed that you don’t think more of yourself.” Then an anguished look appeared in his eyes. “Goodbye, Makayla,” he said, and left.
“Brent!” Makayla yelled, but he slammed the door behind him. And calling him would make no sense anyway. She sat down, and fought back tears.
Charles and Jenay stood beside Charles’s Jaguar across the street from the courthouse. Brent was standing with them, and Tony, but they couldn’t find the words to say. It had been decision day in Jericho, and the judge had rendered his ruling. It was a lengthy statement in the packed courtroom, as the judge talked on and on about the bedrock of liberty and the justice system and the rule of law and it all sounded like gibberish to Charles. He wanted the bottom line. He got it. Luke Sinatra, his father, was free to go.
Now they were outside the courtroom and were at a loss for words. The media was out in force, hoping for comments from the newly freed man when he finally came out of the courthouse, and Brent had ordered a strong showing of police to control what was become a boisterous crowd. This was big news in Jericho. Excitement was in the air.
But it didn’t touch the Sinatras. It felt like a death to them.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Brent said, the anguish on his face.
“You warned us this was likely to happen,” Charles responded. “Nothing for you to be sorry about.”
“But did you feel prepared when the judge made it official?”
Charles shook his head. “No. Not at all. I guess I was hoping against hope that it still wouldn’t happen. That this day wouldn’t come.”
“There he is,” Jenay said, looking toward the courthouse steps, and Charles and Brent looked too.
And there he was, Luke Sinatra, taking his first walk of freedom after thirty-six years. And he looked so smug it was nauseating. But he was smiling, had pep in his step, and was inhaling that fresh, free air.
The media shoved microphones in his face, and asked him so many questions from so many reporters that he couldn’t understand what any of them were saying. But eventually they settled down, and he answered their questions. Then his lawyer began to escort him down the steps to freedom.
“He’s so full of himself now,” Brent said. “But don’t worry, Dad. My men will follow him twenty-four-seven if we have to. His freedom will not feel free here in Jericho. He’ll leave town. It’s just a matter of time.”
Jenay looked at her stepson. “You’re talking about harassing the man?” she asked.
Brent looked at her. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
Jenay nodded. “Good,” she said, and as she said it, gunfire erupted.
“Get down!” Brent yelled as he shoved both parents down and pulled out his weapon. Tony got down too, as the media and crowd scattered. And there was Luke Sinatra, who had been walking down those courthouse steps, falling down those steps. He had been shot. He had been shot repeatedly.
Brent ran across the street toward the courthouse, looking around him at the tall building where the shots appeared to come from, and ordered as many officers as he could to search every building. It was a fool’s errand and he knew it. This was no random shooter. This was an expert. He knew what he was doing.
And the crowd made it worse. There was screaming and running and cameras being trampled.
And Charles, who had fallen on Jenay, protecting her, stood up. He knew the danger was over. And through the chaos, he looked toward the end of the street. A Lincoln Town Car was parked there, and a man in the backseat leaned forward, and stared at Luke Sinatra’s dead body. Then he looked further over, and stared at Charles.
It was Mick. Charles’s kid brother who wasn’t a kid anymore. Charles hadn’t seen that face in years. But Charles nodded at his brother, in acknowledgement and gratitude, and his brother nodded back.
And then Mick Sinatra leaned back in his car, and his driver drove him away.
As her son ran out of the schoolhouse and up to her truck, Denise watched the shooting of Luke Sinatra on her smartphone for what
had to be the fifth time. Brent was in the frame, running around with his gun drawn, looking up at some tall building and pointing. And all she could think about was what might have been. And how he had to be feeling about his granddad’s death.
“Hey, Mommy,” Marcus said as he got into her truck. “I got all happy faces today.”
Denise looked over at her green-eyed, black-haired son and smiled. “That’s wonderful, Markie. I thought we’d go to the amusement park.”
“Yeh! Can we ride?”
“We sure can,” Denise said, as she cranked up.
“Will Dad be there too?”
“No, son, Dad won’t be there. He can’t make it.”
“He never makes it,” Marcus said. “I hate him.”
“Don’t say that about your father.”
“I hate him,” Marcus said, defying his mother to make him feel otherwise.
Then she exhaled. “Don’t worry,” she said. “One day, when we make it big, and I get what I want, I’ll leave him. And then I’ll introduce you to a real man.” She looked at her smartphone again, rewind the part where Brent was shown. “Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s just a matter of time.”
EPILOGUE
The backyard was filled with guests and festivities. Ashley had graduated from Berkskill and her parents had thrown her the party of a lifetime. All of her siblings were there, all of her friends were there, Ashley felt as if she had a second chance at life. She walked around the yard, laughing with everybody, talking with everybody, dancing with everybody until she could barely stand up.
She sat down. Beside Donald.
“Isn’t this great?” she asked him, a grand smile on her face.
“It’s fantastic,” he said. “Everybody showed up. It’s a testament to you, sis. Everybody loves you.”
Ashley looked at him and smiled. “Not really, but thanks anyway. I know you do. You’ve been a great brother, and I’ll never forget that. After my father died, I didn’t know what me and Carly were going to do. When Dad and Mom agreed to take custody of us, and then to adopt us, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.” A frown appeared on her pretty face. “And then I got stupid.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I was arrogant and stupid.” She looked at Donald. “But after what happened with that awful man, and after what you and Dad did for me, I’ll never be that way again, Donnie. I was stupid, and it almost cost me everything. I’ll never let you and Dad regret what you guys did for me.”
Donald smiled. “It was worth it then,” he said.
Ashley smiled. “And I understand congratulations are in order for you too.”
“That’s right! I’m the new General Manager of the Jericho Inn. Nobody’s higher ranked than I am except Mom and Dad.”
“That’s great, Donnie. You deserve it.”
“No I don’t. But like you said, I’ll never let them regret giving me this shot.”
“Why aren’t you two entertaining your guests?” Charles asked as he and Jenay came over to the twosome.
“I’m exhausted,” Ashley said. “I had to take a break.”
“What’s your excuse?” Charles asked his son.
“I’m lazy,” Donald said. “I had to take a break.”
They laughed. “So true,” Jenay said playfully.
Charles took Jenay by the hand and led her away from the maddening crowd and toward the riverbank. It was majestic out there, and peaceful, and they sat on the bench at the water’s edge.
“She graduated,” Jenay said.
Charles nodded his head. “She graduated. She almost didn’t make it, but she made it. Thank God.”
“And Donald’s doing great at the Inn, Charlie. Oh, you should see him. He has my back and every member of that staff knows it.”
“Do they respect him as GM?” Charles asked.
“Many of them didn’t at first. But now every one of them does. Because they know he’s all business now. He reminds me of you sometimes.”
Charles let out a one-syllable laugh. “Never thought I’d hear that comparison.”
“I know. But it’s true. You have rubbed off on all of the children, in one way or another. That should make you very proud.”
Charles nodded. “It does. It does.”
Then Jenay let out a long exhale. “Mick?” she asked. And then she looked at him.
Charles hesitated, and then looked at her. “What about him?”
“Was he the man you nodded to in that Town Car? Was he the man who hired that shooter?”
Charles stared at her. “Yes,” he said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to implicate you in it.”
“If you’re in it, I’m in it.” She frowned. “You know that.”
He placed his arm around her. “Yes, I know it.”
“You know what else I know?”
Charles looked at her. “What else?”
“Mick was the one who hired somebody to spy on Makayla Ross and Brent. And then he sent those photos and that film to the Attorney General. He wanted her pulled off of the case. He wanted the AG to reverse their recommendation.”
Charles stared at her. “And why would he want that?” he asked.
“Because he wanted your father to be released. And he wanted his first steps to freedom to be his first steps to hell. Am I wrong?”
Charles exhaled too, and shook his head. “No, babe. You’re not wrong.”
But Jenay was still concerned. She knew the man she married, but she also knew she had to ask it. “What I don’t know,” she said, “is your involvement in that decision to spy on your own son.”
“I had no involvement in any of it,” Charles said.
“Then why did you look down the street and that Town Car, and why did you nod your approval?”
“I looked because I felt led to look. I don’t know how else to describe it. This feeling came over me, as if I had a connection to something, and there he was. Michello. Mick. I saw his face. And I knew like I knew my name that he was the one, that he hired the guy to spy on Makayla and Brent and take those photos, and he was the man who hired that shooter.”
“A shooter who still is at large, a shooter Brent doubts they’ll ever catch.”
“Yes.”
“But why did you nod your approval when you saw Mick in that Town Car?”
“Because I approved,” Charles said. “We couldn’t allow it. I would have preferred that he rot in jail, but it is what it is. It’s done. Justice has been served. On my father, and your old friend.”
Jenay nodded. “Yes,” she said. Then she thought of something. “Where’s Brent anyway? Did he come?”
“Nope. He had to work late. You know how he is. He’s chief of police now, and that job of his is his life.”
Brent drove his truck up the long driveway to his quiet home. It was almost midnight and he had been booking yet another robbery suspect, their third in as many weeks. He had hoped to drop by his parents’ home and give his congrats to Ashley, but he was too tired now to even try.
But as his truck approached his porch, and the headlights revealed, first a car in his driveway, and a figure on his porch, he hesitated, and made sure his gun was at the ready. But when he drove closer, and was able to see that the figure on his porch was Makayla, he relaxed. At least it wasn’t an intruder. Or was it?
He got out of his truck and made his way toward his porch. Makayla was standing on the porch, leaned against the rail, and her arms were folded. She was dressed, as usual, in one of her regular power suits.
“I thought you’d be in D.C. by now,” Brent said as he walked up the steps.
“I thought you’d be home by now,” Makayla replied. “Working late, or playing late?”
Brent didn’t respond to that. He leaned against the rail, standing beside her. In the moonlight, her eyes beautiful brown skin glowed. “What do you want?” he asked.
Makayla stared at Brent. She could make
this easy, or she could make it hard. She decided to make it hard. On herself. “I want you,” she admitted.
Brent returned her stare. He’d been thinking about her, wondering about her, worrying about her day and night. “You have the Assistant Attorney General. You have your career. Why would you want me?”
A concerned look appeared on Makayla’s face. “I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is, ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind. And that’s not like me. I am not sentimental like that, not ever. But it’s the truth.”
Brent nodded. “I understand that truth,” he said. “Because I’ve had the same experience. I have been thinking about you day and night, and I don’t understand why either.”
“It can’t possibly be love,” Makayla said. “We barely know each other.”
“Are you still going to D.C.?” Brent asked her.
She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “My career is very important to me.” Then tears appeared in her gorgeous eyes. “But I want more than that,” she said. “I want you, Brent, and I don’t know why. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be with anybody else.”
Brent grabbed her into his arms, and kissed her hair. “Oh, Makayla. I don’t want to be alone either. And I don’t want anybody else either.”
“So what are we going to do?” she asked him as she closed her eyes in his warm, strong embrace.
“The only thing we can do: make the impossible possible.”
She removed her head from his shoulder and looked at him. He wiped a lone tear from her eye. “What do you mean?” she asked him.
Brent had a determined look on his handsome face. “We make it work, Makayla. We make this work.”
“Even if I’m in D.C. and you’re still here in Maine?”
Brent exhaled, and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Your career is important to you, and mine is important to me. We are going to give this our all, and make this work.”
Makayla was crying tears of joy now. And Brent pulled her back into his arms. She was what he wanted. She was what he needed. Against all odds, they were going to make this work.
Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County) Page 20
