Reno kept running. He didn’t see any extra cars on site, nor any guard station or guard house. But that didn’t mean shit. Because he didn’t see it didn’t absolutely meant that they weren’t somewhere on that property. He remained cautious.
But what he did see was a side window that appeared to have a curtain-less frame. He leaned against the side of the house, slid over to that window, and then carefully looked inside.
To his astonishment, there was Pump Futarda, sitting at a small kitchen table, reading his morning newspaper, drinking a cup of coffee, and eating his Danish. Just another regular American murderer!
But just as Reno was about to see if that window was unlocked and get inside, he saw Futarda look at his cellphone. Then he looked toward that window. Reno’s instincts immediately kicked in and he ducked. He ducked just as a hail of bullets sailed his way and nearly took him out.
He dropped to the ground and fired back, with a quick look and aim, and took out the guard that had just fired at him.
But then he heard footsteps, of other guards coming, and he took off around to the back of the house. He took up position against the house.
And he waited and he listened. There were two of them based on the sound of the running footsteps, and both appeared to be hugging the side of the house as they ran, which meant, to Reno, that they were running one behind the other one instead of one beside the other one. Which would give him an advantage. Which would allow him to take out one, and then the other one, rather than be forced to deal with a double team.
But he knew he had to be proactive. He couldn’t wait for them to turn that corner and fire on him. He had to fire on them!
And as soon as he heard the footsteps seemingly one step away from turning that corner, Reno pulled the surprise they were about to pull on him and shot the first through the head with one gun, and then the second one through the stomach with the second gun. Both men dropped dead.
But there was a third one, the one Reno had not had a chance to account for, and he was already behind Reno, and upon him, with a gun to Reno’s head.
“Drop both weapons now,” said the voice Reno knew belonged to Pump Futarda, and Reno didn’t hesitate. A gun to his head necessitated compliance. He dropped both weapons.
Futarda then kicked Reno in the back, knocking him to the ground. Reno turned over quickly. He was going to face the man who at that moment had the power to wipe him off of the face of this earth. And he was going to get him talking, to buy time for his guys to get there, and to get answers he was dying to get.
“Why?” Reno asked him.
“Why?” Futarda stared at Reno, his shotgun pointed at him. “You’re asking me why?”
“Who the fuck else would I be asking? Yes, you. Why would you hire those clowns to try to take out my wife? Why would you order your own syndicate dons to be taken out?”
Futarda shook his head. “You’re dumber than I thought. You don’t know why? You have no idea why?” Then he yelled, as if bitterness ate at his very soul: “All these years and you have no idea why?”
Reno knew what he was about to ask was bullshit, but he had to stall for time. “Trina told me about that dinner date you had with her when we were separated,” he said. “Is that what this is about?”
Futarda, again, just stared at Reno, which surprised Reno. He expected him to laugh in his face or otherwise dismiss it.
But he didn’t. “I should have had her,” Futarda said. “When you left her, I thought I would. It was my time to possess what my eternal rival possessed. And I was going to take her, and use her, and then hand her back to you like the used goods you handed back to me.”
It was Reno’s time to look puzzled. “What used goods?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”
Futarda smiled. “Bullshit,” he said. “That’s what I’m talking about. Because you always think life revolves around you and that Gabrini family of yours. You always think it’s all about you. Your wife is the last motherfucker on my mind. But you’d never know it. That’s why I knew it would get under your skin. Because that’s how you think. We’re in your mind now. We’re in your head.”
But then suddenly, Futarda’s demeanor changed, as if he had shared too much. He pointed his shot gun at Reno. “Your time is up, Reno Gabrini,” he said to him. “All the men you’ve faced down. All the men you outsmarted. And now, right here and right now, this is about to be your end. I didn’t expect it to happen this soon. You tracked me down when I didn’t expect to be tracked down. I was careless today, and gave you that opening. You were careless, and gave me one too. Now it’s my turn to do to you what you’ve done to so many other people. Now it’s my turn.”
And for the first time since their encounter, Futarda looked amazed. “I never thought this would be your end. I never dreamed your end would come right in my own backyard.” He started smiling. “It’s like poetic justice.”
But then he leaned down and pointed that gun, not at Reno’s face, but at his penis. “I’m going to end your manhood first,” he said, “the way you emasculated mine. And then I’ll end you.”
And just as Reno was about to grab a fistful of dirt and toss it into Futarda’s eyes. Just as he was about to kick Futarda in the balls and roll away. Just as he was about to do whatever he had to do to keep his ass alive, Futarda cocked that shotgun and Reno heard the shot fire as if it had shattered his eardrums. It was the loudest shot he had ever heard. And he remembered what his old man, of all people, once told him. “The shot that will do you in,” Paulo Gabrini once told him, “is going to be the loudest.”
It wasn’t until Pump Futarda, rather than Reno himself, fell on top of Reno did Reno realize what had happened.
A shot had been fired.
But not by Futarda.
When Reno looked over the shoulder at the dead weight now on top of him, and saw Dommi with the smoking gun in his hand, his heart soared in relief, but then dropped down in incredible pain.
Dommi dropped the gun and ran to his father. “Are you okay, Daddy?” Dommi asked him as if he was no longer that savvy kid who could take it all, but was just a kid.
Reno knocked Futarda’s dead body off of him, and pulled Dommi into his arms. Dommi had killed the man who was about to kill Reno, and Reno was grateful.
But Dommi had killed a man.
His son, his child, had killed a man.
And what was the most horrifying about it: this wasn’t Dommi’s first kill.
Reno was angry with himself for putting his son in that position once again. Angry with himself for bringing him into his world to begin with. Angry with himself for giving Dommi a taste of blood that would stay with him for the rest of his life!
Reno held onto his son as if he was holding onto himself. Because he was. Because, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt on that day, that they were and would always be the same kind of animal.
Jimmy was more his mother’s son. Gentle. Kind. Smart. He was able to avoid that Gabrini taint.
But Dommi had a problem. His mother was Trina. And Trina and Reno were cut from the same cloth. They were the same kind of animals too. They were Gabrinis to their core. Deadly when they had to be. Fair when they didn’t. And Dommi bore the burden of that blood.
Reno and Dommi, like Reno and Trina, were one in the same.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Peter dipped his bread into his glass of wine, an act his partner, Nina, found disgusting. “Don’t like it?” Peter asked her.
“You know I do not!”
Peter smiled. “Sounds like a personal issue to me,” he said and bit the now-wet bread.
Gemma smiled too. They were in a restaurant near the courthouse, having lunch before time for all three of them to return to court. Peter and Nina were in practice together and sat side by side on the booth seat. Gemma, who pulled them in to assist her on her case, sat alone on the booth seat across from them. They were annoying as hell, but they were the best DNA lawyers in town.
“But bac
k to the matter at hand,” said Peter. “I say he should be removed from office posthaste!”
“I say you’ve been dipping too much bread in wine,” said Nina.
“I say you both need to chill and worry about our case-in-chief,” said Gemma. “Not the judge.”
“But he’s so biased,” Peter said. “He’s treating the Defense as if we are some sort of enemies of the state. Just because we’re vigorously defending our client. It is a murder trial, after all.”
“Well, well,” said Nina. “Look who just came through.”
Gemma and Peter looked where Nina was looking: toward the entrance. When Gemma saw that Sal had entered the restaurant, she smiled. And waved. “Sal?” she yelled. “Sal!”
Sal looked her way.
“Over here!”
Sal nodded and began making his way toward them.
Peter and Nina glanced at each other. And Peter, being Peter, couldn’t resist. “Every time I see your husband, you know what I think of?”
“What?”
“The Sopranos.”
Gemma looked at Peter. No he didn’t go there. “Really, Peter?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true! If they had a picture of what a mob boss looks like in the dictionary, your husband’s picture would be it.”
“I agree with him, Gem,” said Nina. “Sorry. But I do. Hanging around your husband isn’t good for our professional health.”
Gemma looked at Nina. She expected foolishness to come out of Peter’s mouth. But Nina’s too?
Sal made it to their table. Gem slid over as he sat beside her. “Hey there,” he said. But Gemma was still staring at her colleagues.
Sal picked up on her vibe right away. Gemma never ignored him when he came near her. It was usually quite the opposite. “What?” Sal asked her. “What’s wrong?”
“Repeat what you said,” Gemma said to Nina.
Nina clammed up, to her shame, but Peter didn’t. “I’ll repeat it,” he said.
Sal looked him up and down. “Then repeat it,” Sal said.
Peter felt a little less cocky when Sal entered the conversation, but he did it anyway. “She said being around a man with your reputation is not good for our professional health. And she’s right.”
Sal frowned. “What, motherfucker?” he asked. “What the fuck that means?”
But Gemma placed her hand on Sal’s hand. Her way of telling him to cool it. She, instead, looked at Peter and Nina. “I think you have it backwards,” she said to both of them. “I think being around people of your reputation isn’t good for my husband’s professional health. You know why?”
Peter had a smirk on his face. “Enlighten us,” he said.
“Because a man like my husband is smart; is strong; is compassionate. He’s a man who cares about the least of these. He’s everything, in other words, the two of you are not. You’re mean, arrogant, out-for-self no matter what. You aren’t lawyers because you want to help somebody. It’s all about what you get out of it. The performance in court. The money. The attention. I only employed you because you give good summations and know how to cross-examine those state experts on DNA. We’ll keep our relationship on that tip. I’ll see you when court is back in session. I don’t care to see either one of you before then.”
Peter and Nina didn’t like what Gemma was saying, but they liked how well Gemma was paying. And given their lavish lifestyles, they always needed the money. They rose to their feet, and turned to leave.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Sal said.
Both lawyers turned and looked at him.
“Pay your fucking tabs. My wife aren’t paying for you.”
Gemma smiled. She had forgotten about that!
Peter pulled a fifty out of his wallet. “Be it far from me,” he said, as he leaned over and tossed the fifty on the table, “to not pay what I owe.”
“Be it far from me,” Sal said, grabbing his arm while he was still leaned over, “to not kick your ass. Which I will gladly do if you give my wife any more distress. You feel me, motherfucker?”
Peter swallowed hard. It was at that moment did he realize, looking into Sal’s menacing blue eyes, just who he was dealing with. “Yes, sir,” he said nervously, as all of his cockiness magically disappeared.
Sal released his arm. Peter looked at Gemma. “We’ll see you back in court, Gem,” he said with an awkward smile.
Gemma nodded. Peter and Nina hurried out.
“Is everybody you work with such assholes?” Sal asked.
“Not everybody,” Gemma said, and Sal smiled. “So what’s up? What brings you over here?”
“Good news.”
“Oh, I could use some of that.”
Sal pulled her closer against him. “Pump Futarda’s out.”
Gemma looked at him. “You mean out like forever?”
Sal smiled. “That’s the only out I ever mean,” he said.
“Who did it? Reno?”
“Who else? Reno was the one who called and told me he was eliminated.”
“Sal, that’s great news!” Gemma kissed him, and then looked into his eyes. “Does that mean you won’t have to spend your days following me around now?”
Sal frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I saw you, Sal. You followed me to court this morning. You followed me when I went over to Champagne’s. You followed me to this restaurant. Ever since those dons were hit, you’ve been following me.”
Sal smiled. “Your black ass don’t miss nothing, does it?”
Gemma laughed. “No, it does not!”
Sal nodded. And pulled her into his arms. “I had to make sure you were okay,” he said. “I might look like a fool to others while I’m making sure, but you know what?”
“What?” Gemma asked.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Sal said, and Gemma laughed again.
Sal didn’t give a fuck what others thought. He was right about that. And that was why she loved him so much.
CHAPTER TWENTY
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE ARREST
The threat was over: Pump Futarda was dead, but Reno wasn’t taking any chances. A convoy of SUVs were waiting at the airport when Reno’s private plane touched down in Miami. He and Dommi, both wearing jeans and polo shirts, got off of the plane and made their way across the tarmac to one of the SUVs.
But it wasn’t until they had driven to the safe house in Miami, and were parked in front of the house, did Reno hesitate before he motioned for his men to open the door.
He was leaned in the backseat, with his elbow resting on the armrest, and Dommi was seated beside him. Dommi knew his father wanted to say something, so he waited. He was thirteen now. In his eyes, his kid days were over. Especially after what happened yesterday. He was learning how to be patient. How to hear people out. How to keep in control. He was learning Reno’s ways through and through.
And he was right. Reno did have something to say. He looked at his handsome young son. “Your mother doesn’t know what happened in Vegas,” he said. “Nobody knows but you and I.”
Dommi stared at him.
“What happened is not a conversation you are to have with any one. I don’t care who it is. You and I will never have this conversation again. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir.” But Dommi, being Dommi, had a question with his understanding. “But why?” he asked his father.
Reno frowned. “Why the fuck you think?”
“It was self-defense, Daddy. I mean dad.” Dommi’s face scrunched up. He was trying to put aside his childish ways, including calling his father daddy. “He was going to kill you. I had to do what I had to do.”
“You know that, and I know that,” Reno said. “The cops won’t give a shit. And you know why they won’t? Because you’re a Gabrini, Dommi. And they hate us. Never forget that. If we give them a reason to lock us away for the rest of our lives, they’ll take it. Self-defense don’t exist in our world, unless the evidence is indisputable. That shit that happened in Vegas will be disputable
in their eyes. It’ll be our word against our reputation. Our reputation, which the cops view as terrible, will win out every time. That’s why you can’t give them a reason. You had nothing to do with what happened at that house in Vegas. Nothing to do with it. You understand me, boy?
Dommi nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“That shit’s on me and me alone. Keep your mouth shut,” Reno continued. “What happened is nobody’s fucking business. It’s not even family business. It’s you and my business only.”
But Reno could tell Dommi’s inquisitive mind made him still have questions. “What is it?” Reno asked him.
“I thought you told mommy everything,” Dommi said.
“I don’t tell anybody everything.”
“Even mommy can’t know about it?”
Reno let out a harsh exhale. “I dread it, but I have to tell her.”
“But I thought we weren’t going to tell anybody,” Dommi said.
Reno looked at him. Dommi had a knack for calling people on their bullshit. It was as if he couldn’t help himself. But Reno was no bullshitter. “When I say everybody,” Reno said to his son, “that never includes my wife. She’s in a category all her own. Got it?”
Dommi nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re her son, too. She has a right to know that . . .”
“She has a right to know what, Dad?”
It broke Reno’s heart to say it. “She has to know that her son has blood on his hands again.”
Dommi stared at his father and swallowed hard. It was a tough thing to hear. “But what was I supposed to do, Daddy?” He was reverting back to his age and forgot all about his don’t call him daddy anymore rule. “I don’t see what I was supposed to do differently. I couldn’t stand there and let that man kill you.”
Reno looked at Dommi and squeezed his shoulder. “Damn right,” he said. “You saved my life. That killer was going to kill me. You did the right thing. Just like you did the right thing when you had to take out that nanny to save your mother. But the truth is still the truth, Dommi, even the ugly truth. And the ugly truth is: you have blood on your hands. It can’t be washed away. You have to deal with that shit. And if your ass can’t stomach it, then get the hell out now. Because it will not end.”
Reno and Sal Gabrini: Fire with Fire Page 11
