Mick Sinatra 3: His Lady, His Children, and Sal

by Mallory Monroe

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two Weeks Earlier

  Mick is going to kill me, Roz kept thinking anxiously as she pounded on the door of the rinky-dink motel room and kept eyeing her surroundings. It was eleven at night, and the motel was surrounded by woods, and she knew Mick would not approve. This time of night, he expected her to be home. He was still running the streets, doing who knows what, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to kick her ass if he ever found out she had ventured across town, to a place like this, just because Betsy had phoned. But Bess was her closest friend. They used to look out for each other when they were struggling actresses in New York. Although Roz’s circumstances had changed considerably, their relationship remained the same now that they both were in Philly. One needed help, the other one didn’t judge, but came.

  Only Bess had been in need of an outsized amount of help since she relocated to Philly. She came to Philly after one of her New York boyfriends tried to rearrange her face, and was only supposed to stay for a few weeks. Roz even gave her a job with her talent agency to tie her over. But then she met one sugar daddy, and then another one, and then another one, and Bess no longer needed employment. Her Philadelphia sugar daddies were taking care of her. And treating her, although she would never admit it to Roz, like the whore they took her for.

  As Roz was about to bang again, the door was opened so swiftly that Roz was left with her fist still in the air. And Betsy Gable moved quickly. She pulled Roz inside, looked around outside, and closed and locked the door.

  Roz couldn’t believe the state she was in. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, her face a mask of concern and anxiety.

  “Thanks so much for coming, Roz.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Betsy’s big eyes were already filled with unshed tears, and her short blonde locks looked matted. “It’s so hard,” she said. “Why does it always have to be so hard?”

  But Roz needed answers, not questions. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” she asked.

  Betsy’s expression changed, and she covered her face and began to sob. And Roz couldn’t help it. Her heart went out to her friend. She opened her arms, and Betsy fell into those arms. And cried, not like the thirty-year-old woman that she was, but like a baby. And Roz held her. Betsy was only four years younger than Roz, but they were light years apart maturity-wise.

  “Let’s sit down,” Roz said, as she helped her friend to the dumpy-looking bed. It squeaked when they sat down.

  “Now I need you to tell me what happened,” Roz said. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Betsy already had a Kleenex and was blowing her nose. “Thanks for coming,” she said, and then, glancing at Roz, smiled through her tears. “Look at you. Sitting in a room like this in your Versace suit.”

  Roz looked down, at her pale blue pantsuit, and smiled too.

  “Mick would have a fit if he knew you were in a room like this.”

  “He’s very clean, now that’s a fact,” Roz said. “And you’re probably right. If he knew I was sitting my behind on a bed like this he’d have this entire outfit fumigated for bed bugs as soon as I made it home. And then he’d personally fumigate my own bare ass.”

  Betsy laughed. “Yep, that sounds like him. He can deal in all the dirt he wants to deal in, but he places all of these restrictions on you.”

  Roz looked at her. Betsy had a masterful way of transferring her own problems onto somebody else. But Roz wasn’t about to let her transport those problems onto Mick. “All of what restrictions?” she asked her. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know how he is,” Betsy responded. “You can’t do this. You can’t do that. But he can do whatever the hell he wants to do. That’s why I’m sorry I ever allowed myself to get hooked up with these white men in Philadelphia. They’re so controlling!”

  Roz didn’t respond to that. She just let her friend talk. Eventually, she knew, the real reason they were sitting in this Bates motel would come out.

  “They have to know everything you’re doing at all times,” Betsy continued. “Like when I wanted to go to Paris with you. I know it was your honeymoon. I know Mick wouldn’t like me going. But it wasn’t like I was going to be hanging out with you two. I was going to have my own room and do my own thing. I just wanted to see Paris, that’s all. But he wouldn’t let you do that little favor for your best friend.”

  “Mick had nothing to do with that decision,” Roz said. “I never even mentioned that to him.”

  Betsy blew her nose again and looked at her friend. “You never mentioned it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not, Roz? I asked if I could go!”

  “I don’t care what you asked. I wasn’t taking some woman with me and my man on our honeymoon. Get real.”

  “I just wanted a ride! It’s not like I was going to be on your honeymoon.” Then Betsy waved her hand, as if dismissing the entire conversation. “But it doesn’t matter. Mick hates my guts. He would have said no anyway. Because that’s how he is.”

  “Okay, stop,” Roz said.

  “He thinks I’m not good enough to be your friend. He hates me.”

  “Time out, Bess.”

  “He wants to control your entire life. And he does hate me.”

  “Okay, now look,” Roz said in that trademark get serious tone she often utilized on her clients. “I know you have this thing about my husband not treating you right and all of that, but you are not going to sit up in here and make this all about Mick. Mick has nothing to do with this. You called me here. You begged me to come. Why? Why are we here, Bess?”

  When Betsy realized Roz was not going for her bait and switch, her expression changed. She frowned. The pain of her own situation began to appear on her face. “Kyle found out about Nave,” she said.

  Roz didn’t involve herself with all of the different men in Betsy’s life, so she didn’t know one from the other one. But she knew Bess. “You were cheating on this Kyle person with Nave? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I wasn’t cheating,” Betsy said in her own warped sense of morality. “I was only getting what I needed to get by. Kyle didn’t have it like that. Nave helped out.”

  “In exchange for whatever you can help him out with, right?”

  Betsy hated to admit it, but she nodded. “What’s a girl supposed to do?” she asked. “I can’t find work in the industry. It’s either sugar daddies or skin flicks.”

  “Or working for me the way you started when you first came to town,” Roz said. “You could have made your own living. Your ass just didn’t want to.”

  “You weren’t paying the kind of money I needed,” Betsy said.

  “Well apparently your sugar daddies weren’t either. Or you wouldn’t be in this palace. Now would you?”

  “Kyle is upset, Roz. I mean really upset. And Nave is out of town on business, so I can’t go to him. Can I stay with you for a few days? At least until Kyle calms back down? Mick’s house is like Ft. Knox. Nobody will be able to get to me there.”

  Roz couldn’t believe it. Betsy was a piece of work. Mick was this terrible ogre in her eyes. He could do nothing right. But whenever she was in trouble, she always wanted what amounted to Mick’s protection. She always wanted to run to Mick. But Roz wasn’t about to fall for that either. “You can’t stay at Mick’s estate,” she said.

  Betsy frowned. “Why not, Roz?”

  “Because I’m not putting him in this. I’m not allowing anybody around my husband who doesn’t like my husband. But I’ll put you up in a better class of hotel. I can do that, at least for a few days. You’ll be safe there.”

  Betsy would have preferred to be under Mick’s guard, but she knew she was on the critical list. Beggars couldn’t be choosy. “Okay,” she said.

  “But you have got to make some decisions, Bess,” Roz admonished her. “You can’t keep playing games with these men’s hearts. You’re asking for trouble if you keep traveling down
that road.”

  And the thought of that very road Betsy was traveling, where she was a thirty-year-old woman with nothing to call her own, caused her to break down again.

  Carp Bianchi and the two young Dons stood in front of a nightclub owned by the syndicate, as the limousine drove up. Carp hated depending on a fucker like Mick Sinatra for anything, especially something like this. Especially after Mick iced Carp’s son. And even though Carp knew his boy had no right challenging Mick’s authority, and was asking for trouble, that didn’t mean Carp had forgiven Mick. That didn’t mean his hatred of Mick didn’t run deep. It did. But he was no fool. Mick the Tick wasn’t the kind of enemy who gave you chances. He was the kind of enemy who gave you death. Carp didn’t care what kind of sucker labels they put on him because, for now, Mick was the only game in town. For now, Carp Bianchi was with Mick. But one of these days, when all of the families had enough courage to get together and dethrone his ass, Carp would get his revenge then.

  “No begging,” he warned the two younger men as they watched the limo approach. “He’ll eat you for lunch if he senses any weakness.”

  Momar DeLuca, deceased mob boss Vito DeLuca’s son and heir, and Yank Stefani, deceased mob boss Teddy Stefani’s son and heir, looked at Carp. Their fathers worked alongside Carp for twenty years, and all three had reported to Mick. Now the sons were reporting to Mick. The young Dons didn’t like it, but they were there when Mick iced Carp’s son for insubordination. They, like Carp, weren’t fools. They, like Carp, feared him too.

  “You don’t have to school us on Mick the Ticking Time Bomb,” Stefani said. “We saw that joker in action. We know what he thinks of beggars.”

  “And weakness,” Carp said. “Don’t forget weakness. He hates weakness even more.”

  “We need him to bail us out again,” DeLuca said. “That means we’re already weak.”

  “No begging,” Carp warned again, despite Deluca’s comment, as the backdoor of the limousine seemed to open automatically before them. They all snuggled their coats against the chill of the night air, and got in. They sat across from Mick, who sat with his legs crossed beside Danny Padrone, his right hand man.

  “How you doing, Mick?” Carp asked cheerfully after they settled in. “We appreciate you giving us this time. We know you’re a very busy man.”

  The two younger men wanted to roll their eyes. Carp was the personification of the weakness he claimed Sinatra despised. But they weren’t exactly bursting with courage either. Not in front of a temperamental man like him.

  Mick unfolded his legs, which caused all three men to jump. Mick never understood why they would behave so fearful around him. He never harmed anybody who didn’t try to harm him first. “You asked me here why?” he asked.

  “We asked you here because we need your help,” Carp said.

  Mick didn’t respond to that. It was obvious they needed something.

  Yank Stefani took over. “Who’s against us?” he asked. “Is it a war or a lone wolf? Somebody intercepted our New Mexico cargo, then our Jersey cargo, and now Detroit. When it was New Mexico we thought it was a fluke, a one-time thing. When it was Jersey, we thought it was a copycat. Now it’s Detroit. Now the shit is real to us. Now this shit is serious. If we don’t know who’s behind it, we don’t know what we can do about it.”

  “What did they snatch?” Mick asked. He was too busy running his legit businesses to get involved in their day-to-day. “What was being shipped in? Guns?”

  “Guns, yes,” Stefani said. “And other contraband.”

  Mick moved around in his seat. He showed his disgust. “Drugs,” he said.

  “Don’t judge us, Mick,” Carp said. “You managed to make it in the legit world, a world that wouldn’t give us the time of day. You have your corporation, we have our cargo.”

  “It’s disrespectful,” Momar DeLuca said, ignoring Carp. “That’s what these intercepts are about. Their disrespecting us. And you too, sir. You get eighty percent of everything we make, and we have to split the remaining twenty.”

  Mick knew what they meant. The last time Stefani and DeLuca, along with Carp’s boy Nat came before him, they demanded a fifty-fifty split. Mick had to remind them then that they didn’t demand shit from him. It was his business savvy, his connections, his muscle and feared name that kept their illegal trade on top. And they wanted to be equal to him? A bunch of fucking upstarts?

  “Not that we’re complaining about the arrangement,” Carp quickly interjected, as he could see the displeasure on Mick’s face. “We understand why you’re getting the lion’s share. But what Mo is trying to say is that all of these intercepts means that it’s not just us they’re targeting. It’s you too. They’re disrespecting you too. They’re disrespecting you most of all. It has got to stop.”

  Mick knew Carp spoke the truth. “What have you heard?” he asked.

  “That’s what’s driving us bananas,” Carp responded. “We haven’t heard anything. Not one word. It’s like these people, whoever they are, come like phantoms in the night and leave no trace of themselves. We have nothing to go on.”

  “When is your next cargo due in?” Danny asked.

  None of the Dons liked Danny’s position in Mick’s affairs. Mainly because his loyalty to Mick was unquestioned. Mainly because he was a man Mick had grown to trust and listen to, when they felt they should have that pleasure.

  “We have a few coming in next week,” Carp said.

  “Suspend all shipments,” Mick said.

  The Dons were astounded. “Suspend?” Stefani asked. “But sir---”

  “Suspend all shipments,” Mick said again. “Only a fool repeats what is not working. Until we find out who is behind this, no more shipments. Keep everything overseas until further notice.”

  “But we can’t front our people as it is, sir,” DeLuca said. “We need those shipments bad.”

  “Contact my consigliere. Set up a line of credit to meet payroll if you have to. But no shipments, I don’t care what predicament you’re in. No shipments.”

  Mick’s car phone buzzed. When he pressed the button a TV monitor came up out of its slot. When he saw the caller was the man in charge of his wife’s detail, he waved his hand. “I’ll be in touch,” he said to his guests.

  The two younger dons looked at Carp. That wasn’t good enough for them. But Carp knew better. “Thank-you for all of your help, Mick,” he said, and began climbing out. The other two wanted to object, or at least tell him just how devastating those intercepts had been to their bottom lines, and how his declaration that they could receive no shipments in the foreseeable future could decimate them, but they knew better too. They got out, and closed the door behind them.

  “What do you make of that?” Danny asked.

  Since Mick didn’t know, he didn’t respond. He pressed his car phone’s intercom button. “Speak,” he said.

  “I hate to disturb you, boss,” Archie Bloom, his front gate security chief, said over the phone, “but Mrs. Sinatra has slipped security.”

  Mick looked at his Rolex. It was after eleven at night. “When?”

  “The backup tracking system kicked in the way it was supposed to, but we missed it. The men on duty didn’t discover the breach until she was already on the move.”

  “Where?”

  “She’s at a motel, sir. The Harper Inn on Cumberland. 9056.”

  Mick looked at Danny. “A hellhole,” Danny said. “Not a nice place.”

  Mick muted the phone intercom and pressed his limo driver’s intercom. “Get me over to Cumberland Avenue,” he ordered. “9056. Fast.”

  “Right away, sir,” his driver responded, and they were off.

  Mick pressed the phone’s intercom button again. “I want to know who fucked up tonight, and I want them fired tonight.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m already on it,” Archie said. “I’m preparing to send a crew over there now.”

  “Make sure they stand down until I get there.”

  “Yes
, sir. They told me it’s a delicate thing, sir. So they understand.”

  Mick frowned. “What’s delicate?”

  “You told us not to spy on her, but simply to follow her clandestinely. In a case like this, the men said they weren’t sure how to respond.”

  “A case like what?” Mick asked. Archie was a man strong enough to be honest with Mick, and Mick appreciated it.

  “A case where your wife is tracked, at eleven at night, to a motel, sir.”

  Mick understood his implication. “Just tell my men to do their jobs. They’re to follow her for safety reasons only. Not to spy on her. And if they still have trouble understanding that, then fire their asses. That’s your job.”

  “Yes, sir,” Archie said.

  Mick ended the call and the monitor disappeared into the console.

  Danny looked at his boss. “What could she be doing over on Cumberland?” he asked.

  Mick could have lashed out at Danny too. But he didn’t. Because it was a question he was inwardly asking too.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Roz and Betsy walked out of the motel room after Betsy double-and-tripled checked that Kyle wasn’t lying in wait outside for her. She had a carrying case, filled with only the clothes she could grab as she fled his house, and now she was relying on Roz to get her to safety. Her car was out front, and she would follow Roz’s car, but both ladies had a feeling that this wasn’t going to solve anything.

  “What’s going to happen after he cools down?” Roz asked as they walked along the outdoor corridor toward the outdoor stairs.

  “Then he won’t be so belligerent,” Betsy said. “He’ll come to his senses and realize he’s the one I want.”

  Roz looked at her. “Is he?”

  Betsy shook her head. “I don’t want any of them. I’m still in love with Jace.” Jason was her boyfriend in New York. The one that beat her senseless, forcing her to relocate to Philly in the first place, when he found out she was cheating on him too.