Amelia Sinatra: Hammer Time

by Mallory Monroe

“Okay, Kenny,” Hammer said to DeSousa. “It’s a go.” Then he ended the call and began patting Amelia’s ass, so that she could get off of him, and they could get up.

  “Where are we going right now?” Amelia asked him. “The meeting isn’t until nine tomorrow morning.”

  “We’ve got to get to New Jersey and prep, probably all night, before we even think about stepping foot into any meeting.”

  “What’s going to be our game plan?” Amelia asked before she moved.

  “Our game plan is to take.”

  Amelia was lost. “To take what?”

  “Leo T’s territory. Isn’t that what you said you wanted? To pretend to be willing to give up Valtone Distributors?”

  “And then not only not give it up, but take what’s theirs? Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want. But only one question,” Amelia said, “and then I’ll get up.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Leo’s big as hell. He’s the dope king. What are we going to do when we get all the territory he’s sitting on?”

  Hammer’s smile faded. And he was as serious as Amelia had ever seen him. He looked her dead in her eyes. “You are not ever going to be the meek and mild housewife,” he said. “I know that.”

  Amelia was serious too. “Go on.”

  “But if you’re going to roll, and expect the level of respect that will keep your enemies away, and keep you safe, you’ve got to be the highest roller.”

  Amelia studied Hammer. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “What are you saying, Hammer?” she asked him.

  “We’re going to make you untouchable,” he said. “That’s what I’m saying. You’ve got to be seen as the dope queen, bigger than Leo T had ever been, and have the territory to prove it. Even if you won’t be working that territory.”

  It sounded complicated to Amelia, and she wasn’t sure about all the moving parts, but she trusted Hammer’s instincts. She also loved that he wasn’t trying to pigeonhole her anymore.

  “Now get your ass up,” he said, patting her ass again, “and let’s make a start.”

  She gladly got up.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  His Porsche SUV slushed through holes of standing water and drove through the gates of the private airstrip. It was cold as hell, late at night, and Hammer got out and walked around to the passenger side door. He opened the door for Amelia. Although he was dressed in jeans, gloves, a different bomber jacket, and a big Indiana Jones hat, Amelia was far more covered than that. But when she stepped out in that harsh cold night air Canada was known for, she was still freezing. Hammer had done his best to cover her, but her fur coat had been ruined when they were fighting for their lives at that factory in Ottawa. He therefore had no choice but to wrap her up in one of his rarely used knee-length coats and a scarf. It all swallowed her, and wasn’t nearly as effective as those mink coats she favored. But she was willing to endure just about anything at this point, to exact her revenge.

  They walked across the tarmac to Hammer’s idling private plane, and he escorted her up the stairs. She was stepping high, in her stiletto knee-high boots, and the crew on the plane immediately paid attention when she stepped on.

  Inside the plane, nearly twenty men were waiting. These were the ones handpicked to be Hammer’s personal bodyguards for the trip to Trenton. One of the guards, Ray Rosen, stepped out in front.

  “Everybody’s in place, Boss,” he said. “I just got a status update from Jersey. They’re ready.”

  “Good,” Hammer said with a nod, and then addressed the other men. “I know all of you are at least familiar with Miss Sinatra,” he said. “My son’s mother.”

  They all nodded. They knew of her, alright. Knew of her brother even better.

  “But what I need you to also know is that Miss Sinatra is my lady,” Hammer said bluntly. “Not just my baby’s mother. She’s mine.”

  Amelia could see the surprise on his men’s faces, but they couldn’t possibly be as surprised as she was. He didn’t have to do this. They were about to embark on a dangerous mission. He could have forgone the introductions. But Big Daddy, she supposed, was right. When a man claims you, then you know it’s love.

  “She’s at the top of my food chain,” Hammer continued to explain to his men, “and there is no other human being above her. Guard her life the way you guard mine. If you fail, consider yourself dead. And that’s not hyperbole. You will pay with your life. Do I make myself clear?”

  The men were astounded to hear their playboy boss confess to having a one and only. “Yes, sir,” they all said quickly, especially in light of his threat to kill them if they failed to protect her. But they were still amazed.

  “We will guard her with everything we have, sir,” Ray Rosen said for all of them.

  “Good enough,” Hammer said, then placed his hand around Amelia’s waist, and escorted her to a seat in the back of the plane.

  Leo Tamberelli was waiting. This was going to be an easy meeting for him, and he had little interest in prepping. He sat behind the desk in his small office inside his small laundromat in Trenton, New Jersey, and leaned back in his chair. He was a big, portly man, and was eating a big man’s breakfast: fried pork rolls with eggs and cheese on Kaiser buns.

  “I don’t like Hammer Reese,” one of the guards said. “I don’t like Feds, period, I don’t care how crooked they are.”

  “And that mafucker crooked!” another guard said, and they all laughed.

  “I’ll handle Reese,” Leo said between bites. “You just make sure Reese and that Amelia Sinatra don’t try to handle me.”

  “And she’s Mick the Tick’s sister for real though?” the third guard asked.

  Leo nodded. “That’s what they claim.”

  “I don’t know if I’m buying that shit though. To look at her, you would just figure she’s just another black girl. I don’t see no white mama shit in her.”

  “You don’t see no white mama shit in President Obama, either,” Leo pointed out, “but his ass got one too.”

  They all laughed.

  “Black is black,” the first guard said. “For the most part, it dominates the gene pool. Sometimes it doesn’t, but most times it does.”

  “And you’re an expert, are you?” the second guard asked. “I didn’t know they were handing out scientific degrees over in Sing Sing,” he added, and they all laughed at that too. It was just a room filled with laughter and mirth.

  Then the office door opened, and one of the guards from out front peeped inside. “They’re here, Boss,” he said.

  The three guards in the room all stood up and took their places, with two on the right side, and one on the left.

  “Bring’em back,” Leo said to the guard at the door, and the guard left to do as he was told. Leo scraped the remining food off of his plate, tossing it into the waste basket, and placed the empty plate inside his desk drawer. “Remember what I said,” he said to his men. “Watch those motherfuckers.”

  After several more seconds, Hammer, with Amelia at his side, walked in.

  Leo stood up and smiled. “If it ain’t the ghost of Hammer Reese,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s been a long time!”

  But Hammer just stood there. “Get a load of this asshole,” Hammer said to Amelia, pointing at Leo. “He ambushed you; tries to kill you twice, and me once; and he expects us to shake his hand. You got balls, Leo, I’ll give you that.”

  Leo laughed.

  “And so do we,” Hammer added, effectively cutting off Leo’s laugh. Then Hammer’s look turned hard. “Get that fucking hand out of my fucking face.”

  And that was why they hated Hammer Reese, every guard in that room said to themselves. They even looked at each other, to see if their fellow guards were showing their displeasure with that bastard too. And to a man, they were.

  But Leo was a pro. He knew getting into it with Hammer here and now made no sense. His smile lessened, he had some pride, after all, but it remained. “Sit down,” he said, as he
withdrew his hand, “and let’s unpack what you just said. You make some strong accusations there.”

  Hammer and Amelia sat in front of the desk. But not before both of them took a cursory look at what they were up against: two guards on Hammer’s side. One guard on Amelia’s. Leo, the most ruthless of them all, right in front of them.

  “First and foremost,” Leo said, “I never tried to kill anybody. Make no mistake about it. That’s not what I do.”

  “And what is it that you do do, Leo?” Hammer asked.

  “I run my laundromat,” Leo said.

  “Just like I run my wine distribution business,” Amelia said. “Just like that.”

  “Yeah,” Leo said, although he understood the implications of what she was saying. “Just like that.”

  “You’re as innocent as I am,” Amelia said further. “Aren’t you, Leo?”

  Leo smiled. “I don’t know if I’ll go that far,” he said as if he wasn’t ready to call himself innocent. And then he flipped the script. “I mean, you’re into some crazy shit,” he added, and his men laughed.

  Upfront, inside the laundromat, seven people were washing or drying their clothes. Unbeknownst to Leo’s men, six of the seven people, the women as well as the men, worked for Hammer. The seventh person, a local thug, was a friend of one of the guard’s.

  Leo’s guards walked around, laughed and talked, and were generally relaxed. They knew the boss and his three men could handle Reese and Sinatra, and that they could handle any situation that could arise upfront. They had it covered.

  They had been lulled into such a sense of security that they were constantly looking out of the big, picture window of the laundromat, to make sure Hammer hadn’t brought company with him, when the company was already there.

  And then one of the women, a bag lady, looked at one of the men, and then they pounced. All six of Hammer’s people pulled out guns with silencers on them, and didn’t hesitate. They began shooting. Each person had two to kill, since there were eleven of Leo’s men upfront, and the friend of one of the guards, and they killed all eleven before the first one knew what hit him. Not a shot was fired from their end. They were the ones who really had it covered.

  And then, equally fast, they turned the OPEN cardboard sign that hung on the picture window in front of the laundromat, to CLOSED, and then pulled down the shade over the window, effectively eliminating any prying eyes. They locked the laundromat door, and then sent a text to Hammer.

  In the back office, Hammer had what was called in his profession a dead phone on vibrate, which meant only one person had the number, and that one person would alert him, by text, that the front of the laundromat had been cleared. When he felt the vibration in his pocket, he knew their work was done. He signaled to Amelia by gently rubbing his leg against hers.

  Now, they were free to get down to business with Leo, who was still insisting that he knew nothing.

  “Where’s Michael Wheater?” Hammer suddenly asked.

  Leo looked at him. “Michael Wheater? Sorry? Who’s that?”

  “You know who,” Hammer said.

  Leo’s desk phone rang. “I don’t think I know who you’re talking about.” He glanced at the Caller ID. When he saw, as Hammer knew he would, that it was his security chief in the field, at one of his busiest hubs, he lifted a finger. “Just a sec,” he said, and answered the call.

  He knew something was wrong immediately. Gunfire could be heard, over the phone, in the background. “We’re under assault, Boss!” his man was yelling into the phone. “They’re on a rampage!”

  “Who?” Leo asked, rising to his feet. “Who’s on a rampage?”

  Leo’s men stood at attention, too. They could only hear one side of the conversation, their boss’s side, but they could tell by his body language that there was a major problem. Hammer and Amelia got ready.

  “We can’t contain them.” The man sounded as if he was running. “We can’t---”

  “Who’s on a fucking rampage?” Leo yelled. “Tell me who’s on a rampage?”

  “That fucker Hammer Reese!” the man on the phone yelled. “His men are on---”

  And then silence. And Leo looked at Hammer and Amelia. He nodded to his men in the room, and they were about to draw their weapons. But it was too late. Hammer and Amelia already had surreptitiously drawn theirs, and instead of waiting for a fair fight, they fired.

  Amelia killed the guard to her right. Hammer killed the two guards to his left. And then they both rose, and aimed their guns at Leo.

  “Are you out of your fucking minds?” Leo asked. “I got an army out front!”

  “So do we,” Hammer said. “And our army crushed yours. Now let’s go. You’re coming with us.”

  Leo couldn’t believe it. How could this shit turn that quickly? How could a man with his reach fail to contain this?

  He listened on the phone again, but he never heard his man’s voice again. Just more and more gunfire.

  He put down the phone, and went with Hammer and Amelia.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They were back on Hammer’s plane, with all of their guards, and their subject, Leo Tamberelli, onboard too. Hammer and Amelia now controlled all of Leo’s known territory. They had him in the flesh, and were flying him back to Canada with them, for two reasons: to get all the intel they could on Bulldog’s son, and to get all the intel on Leo’s hidden territories not yet known by them.

  But as he and Amelia sat across from Leo on the hour-and-a-half plane ride back to Montreal, Hammer knew within minutes of their interrogation that it was going to require additional measures.

  They were in a private parlor on the plane, and Leo was sweating bullets. But he was still playing dumb: Michael who? Ambush what? Territory where?

  “Amelia,” Hammer finally said, “why don’t you go check on the pilot. Make sure he’s okay. And tell Rosen I need to see him.”

  Amelia looked at Hammer. She knew what he was up to. It was about to be Hammer time. Which, as legend would have it, meant that it was torture time.

  Any other man and there was no way she was leaving. But whenever she was with Hammer, he was in charge. She knew, if she was going to keep him, and she planned to keep him, she had to let him be in charge. No woman was leading this man by the nose. She got up, and left the parlor.

  Hammer stood up, removed his bomber jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. Rosen walked in, and closed and locked the door behind him. His sleeves were already rolled up.

  Hammer placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers, and Leo could hear him clanging around the change in his pockets. “I need to know every territory you control,” he said, “that I don’t already know about. And you’re going to tell me right here and right now.”

  Leo would normally smile it off, that was his go-to style. But he knew all about Hammer Time too, and how that fucker got fired as CIA Director for using that torture shit on subjects. It was no smiling matter. He didn’t even bother.

  Amelia could hear the deafening, agonizing screams coming from the parlor, as could the rest of Hammer’s staff onboard, but it amazed her how they didn’t even seem to notice. They were all former spies or crooks or both; men and women Hammer personally recruited, and they knew what he was doing and probably condoned it.

  Amelia, in her way, condoned it, too. Not because she was into torturing people; she was not. But because she knew Hammer was not a sadistic man, but did only what was necessary to move the ball forward. And even Amelia could see that Leo wasn’t about to give up any kind of intel: not on Bulldog’s son. Not on his hidden territory.

  She went into the cockpit. She wanted a cigarette, she was that unhinged, but she knew Hammer would kill her ass if she lit up on his plane. She, instead, chatted with the pilot, and let Hammer do his thing. And he did it. For well over an hour. They were landing in Montreal, in fact, by the time he was done.

  By the time she returned to the parlor, after Ray Rosen had given her the all-clear, the plane was sitting on
the tarmac and Leo Tamberelli was a different man. To Amelia’s shock, he wasn’t beaten up and battered the way she absolutely expected him to be after all of that screaming. But not a scratch was on him. But it was obvious, by the look of terror in his now unsteady eyes, that he’d been traumatized. And, Amelia decided, in a major fucking way.

  “Did he talk?” she asked as she sat back beside Hammer, and across from Leo.

  “Of course,” Hammer said, as if they always talked whenever he added his special sauce. He had even rolled down his shirtsleeves, and had his bomber jacket back on. He was as casual as Leo was devastated.

  Amelia had never seen anybody change so completely in such a short period of time. She looked at Hammer. She knew he was a badass, but damn!

  “Now that we’ve discussed your territories,” Hammer said, leaning forward, his arms resting on the table between them, “tell us about Michael Wheater. And don’t fuck with me. None of that I don’t know him bullshit. We know you know him.”

  Leo was trembling, and so was his voice. “He came to me with a plan.”

  “To do what?” Hammer asked.

  “To take over Valtone Distributors. Bulldog, he said, was his father. He was a bastard son, and was born out-of-wedlock while Bull was married to his first wife, but he was still his son. His flesh and blood, unlike Amelia. And he wanted what was rightfully his.”

  “What was in it for you?” Amelia asked.

  “A cut,” Leo said. His mouth was dry and he was wincing as he spoke. Amelia couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from, but he seemed to be favoring the ribs on his left side. “I was going to get a fifty percent cut.”

  Like hell he would, Amelia thought. “What did you have to do to gain such a generous portion of my business?” she asked.

  “Get you in a room,” he said. “Interrogate you. Find out what you owned and where. And then--”

  “And then what?” Hammer asked.

  Leo looked at Amelia. His eyes looked sunken. “And then take you out,” he admitted.