“Not a damn thing,” Sal said. “Nobody knows anything.”
“And those who may know something,” Tommy said, “aren’t telling us.”
“Roz seems to think they could have been targeting her,” Reno said.
Mick nodded. “Yeah, I see where she would think that. She was the target earlier. They wanted to tear her down to get to me. And that may be what’s going on here.”
Tommy studied Mick. “But?” he asked him.
“But that’s not what it feels like to me,” Mick said. “They weren’t trying to take her out, or me out. They were trying to take us both out. And probably the twins right along with us.”
“Geez, don’t say that,” Reno said, running his hand through his already ruffled hair. “Child killers too? Give me a break!”
“Teddy was in charge?” Mick asked.
“Yeah,” Sal said.
“How did he do?”
There was hesitation. Then Sal spoke up. “He dropped the ball security-wise,” he said honestly. “But other than that he did okay.”
Mick was concerned. “How did he drop the ball?”
“He failed to secure you and the family at the hospital. He relied on the local police to be your guards.”
Mick frowned. “Who was guarding Rosalind and the twins?”
“The cops,” Reno said. “Big mistake.”
“Big fucking mistake,” Mick said angrily. “Ted knows better than that. And where was my people?”
“He ordered all of them to hit the streets,” Sal said. “To search down intel. He figured the number one goal was to find the assholes who pulled this stunt. But Tommy schooled him. He now knows security is always first.”
“What about my men? What about Danny and Angelo? Why didn’t they school him?”
“They said he was in charge and they took their walking papers from him,” Reno said.
“Bullshit,” Mick said.
“We know,” Tommy said.
“What I think is going on,” Sal said, and everybody looked at him, “is self-preservation. I think Danny and Ang figured you wasn’t getting out of this alive, and Teddy was going to be the boss. I think they were all about protecting their position in the organization, not protecting your family.”
Mick exhaled. When he was back on his feet again, he had a lot of restructuring to do. Beginning with those two assholes.
Then he looked at the Gabrinis. “So you guys are getting out of Dodge?” he asked. He was smiling, but they could see the apprehension in his eyes.
“Not today,” Tommy responded for all three of them. “We want to check on a few more leads. Just to make sure we aren’t missing anything. We’ll pull out tomorrow.”
Mick appreciated it. “Okay,” he said.
After word got out that Mick was back, every major mobster on the east coast, with others making the journey from the west coast, arrived at his bedside. They were all packing, but they had to leave their weapons at the gate, as they paid their respects to the biggest boss of them all. It was a lot of work for Roz, as she had to host all of these mobsters, but it was worth it. They lit up Mick’s world. They gave Mick a chance to ask questions, to find out what they knew, to feel like his old self again.
Three of the biggest names in the business, the heads of the Renault, Vietti, and Parusshi crime families, arrived within minutes of each other, and they were particularly appreciated when they came to pay their respects. Because they were completely plugged into the Philly underworld and would know things the average boss wouldn’t know. Mick and the Gabrinis were hoping they could shed some light on the situation. The Gabrinis even stuck around, delaying their flight, to see if they had any news. Big Daddy and Brent, however, had already gone.
And after the mobsters were introduced to Roz, and Roz led them upstairs to Mick, she stayed around too. She was as hopeful as the Gabrinis. They needed answers. They needed news.
But after nearly an hour of laughter and conversation, it became painfully obvious even to Roz that they were in the dark too. The mobsters knew no more than the rest of them knew. Mick and the bosses continued to talk, but it was time for the Gabrinis to go.
After they said their goodbyes to Mick and his visitors, Roz walked them outside to their waiting limousine. It all felt so bittersweet to her. Roz was grateful that they stayed as long as they stayed. She knew they had families and lives to live too. But with Mick down, they gave her that sense of peace and security. They made Roz feel that it was all going to be alright. Now she felt as if her security blanket was being snatched from her. It needed to be snatched. She had no business depending on a blanket anyway. But it still left its sting.
“Don’t worry, Roz,” Sal said as their luggage was being placed in the limo. “He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”
“With no answers still,” Roz said. “That’s going to be the hard part. Mick doesn’t like confusion. He likes clear paths.”
Sal nodded. “I can believe that. No mob boss likes murkiness.” Then Sal caught himself. “But what do I know about mob bosses?” he asked, as he slung his own luggage in the vehicle.
Tommy and Reno looked at each other, shook their heads, and laughed.
Inside, the undeniable mob bosses were about to leave. They had gathered around Mick’s bed to shake his hand and wish him well. And they were still trying to figure out who could have pulled this off.
“Maybe it’s not a mobster at all,” Renault said. “Maybe that’s why we’re drawing blanks. Maybe it’s closer to home.”
“Like who?” Vietti asked. “His own son’s in charge. Surely you aren’t suggesting Teddy had something to do with this?”
“I’m a boss, what can I say?” Renault said. “I think everybody’s capable of everything. Including our own sons. Especially if they know getting rid of the old man means they gain power.”
“It’s not outrageous,” Parusshi said. “Stranger things have happened. Sometimes the answer is right in front of you.”
But as they talked, attempting to implicate Teddy of all people, Mick’s brain was working overtime. And what used to be so muddled, all began to make sense. It all began to tie together. The crash for cash scheme. The sex harassment allegations. Frog’s name, that led to Al Zanetti and Lenny D’Amato. How Stu Scott was a plant in Roz’s organization. How simple it was to figure out that Marty B.’s motorcycle gang was the muscle behind the hijacking of his shipment. It was all so simple. It was all so easy to figure out. It was all too easy.
And Mick suddenly realized, his eyes brightening as his brain became more aware, that it was meant to be easy. He was supposed to put two and two together. He was supposed to have that false sense of security, that false sense that all threats had been eliminated, so that the real threat could strike.
Mick looked at his three associates. He looked at his three old friends. It took fools, or very powerful men, to pull this off. And he realized, as surely as he realized his name, that no fool could do it. Power did it. Power allied with more power. Three bosses, not one. That was why there was no chatter. They would have been telling on themselves. The questions had been asked repeatedly. Over and over again. But now, Mick realized, the answer was right in front of him.
“As I said,” Vietti said, “stranger things have happened. It could be Teddy. Or it could be a wild card. Like Stu Scott.”
When Mick heard that name, he looked at Vietti. “Stu Scott?” he asked.
“Stu Scott,” Vietti said again. “He was your wife’s talent scout. But you know what else he was?”
Mick had his confirmation. But he couldn’t let those bastards know it. “What?” he asked.
“He was our inside man,” Parusshi said. “We found our man Stu with a cord around his neck. Tossed away like trash. And just like you’re about to fight for your life now, I’ll bet your ass he fought for his life too.”
Renault pulled out a cord.
“You’ve been taking over our operations, Micky,” Vietti said. “O
ur profits have been cut in half because of your greed. Used to be a time a man would let a man have his territory. But you’ve gotten bigger than all of us. You’ve gotten too big for your britches.”
Then Vietti smiled. “But guess what we did? We didn’t get mad. We got even. We paid Marty B.’s gang to hijack your shipment and give it to us. That was a good take. We’re still living off of the fruits of that take. We put Stu at your wife’s agency to make sure he kept us informed about your goings and comings. And the plan was working. Al Zanetti and Lenny D’Amato failed to launch, but we didn’t need them to. We needed them to create trouble, you solve it, and then you think you eliminated the threat. It was systematic and brilliant. You didn’t know what hit you when the hit came.”
Then an angry look appeared in Vietti’s eyes. “But you know what we discovered? Only a man can do a man’s job. When we heard you were recovering, we came. The Gabrinis are gone. Big Daddy Sinatra and his police chief son are gone.”
Then Vietti nodded to Renault, and then looked at Mick. “You’re all ours,” he said with a smile, as Renault took the cord and flung it around Mick’s neck, just as Teddy had flung it around Stu Scott’s neck, and tightened and tightened his grip.
Outside, the Gabrinis were driving away in their limo and Roz was heading back up the steps toward the front door. But something suddenly felt off to her. Something felt wrong. But what was it?
And that was when it hit her. She remembered that name! Vietti. She remembered Tamron telling her that Vietti was one of those big shot donors attending her masquerade ball. She remembered Tamron telling her that Vietti was the main one demanding that she made sure Mick attended that ball. Tam didn’t understand why at the time, she even told Roz she didn’t understand why. But he was a big donor, and Tam wanted to please her donors.
Roz had no idea at the time Vietti was a crime boss. Because it wouldn’t have made sense. Why would a major crime figure like Vietti need Mick at some ball to validate the ball? His presence would have been enough. Unless, Roz suddenly thought, Vietti needed Mick at the ball to take Mick out of circulation. It would be a good hiding place. Plenty of masks. Plenty of people. Easy access.
And Vietti had access now. He was upstairs now. With Mick!
Roz turned around just as the limo was heading toward the gate. And she ran toward that limo screaming unlike she had ever screamed before.
Tommy was the first to hear her scream. Reno and Sal were sitting back bickering about something, when Tommy turned around to the sound. When he saw Roz, and saw that she was running and screaming, his heart slammed against his chest. “Stop the car!” he yelled. “Stop the car!”
The car stopped suddenly on Tommy’s word alone, and all three men jumped out.
“It’s a set up!” Roz was yelling. “Vietti wants to kill Mick! It’s a set up!”
She didn’t have to explain why. She didn’t have to say another word. All three Gabrinis pulled out their weapons as they ran across that driveway, into that house, and up those stairs. But as soon as they hit the stairs, they heard two consecutive gunshots.
What they heard came after Renault still had the cord around Mick’s neck. He was killing him. Only he was killing him slowly. He was tightening and tightening the cord, and then loosening the cord. They didn’t want Mick to die too quickly. They wanted Mick to suffer.
Mick suffered. He fought when the cord was tightened, and gasped for breath when the cord was loosened. They were laughing. Vietti and Parrushi were laughing their heads off. They were enjoying the hell out of Mick’s pain.
But as they laughed, and as Renault tightened and loosened the cord, Mick’s hands were beneath the covers, struggling to grab the guns he himself had placed there days ago just in case, as he fought for his life.
It took all the strength he had, and some more beside, but as soon as Renault loosened that cord again, Mick threw the covers off of his battered body, revealing his weapons. Stunned that a man in his weakened state would have guns at his side, the mobsters scrambled to retrieve their own weapons. But it was no contest. Mick was too fast. He aimed one gun at Renault first, shooting him through the head, and at Vietti second, killing him on the spot.
Then Mick looked at Parrushi, who began backing up with his hands in the air. But to Parrushi’s shock, Mick suddenly looked faint, and his body collapsed into the bed. Parrushi, figured the impact of the cord that had been strangling Mick, and Mick’s own compromised state from his own wounds, had caused him to suddenly collapse. And he saw his chance and made a run for it. He kept backing up, just in case he had read that mean bastard wrong, and then he was going to turn and high tail it out of there.
But Mick collapsed only because he could. Because he saw where Parrushi was heading. He saw that Parrushi was backing up alright, but into the arms of the Gabrinis.
“Going somewhere?” Sal asked Parrushi when Parrushi backed into him.
Parrushi turned around suddenly. “But I thought,” he started saying.
But Sal interrupted him. “Who gives a fuck what you thought?” Sal responded. And then did the honors himself. Parrushi fell too, and joined his partners in crime.
By the time Roz made it upstairs, and by the time Mick’s children, who had been in the family room, hurried upstairs too, it was all over. They had to step over bodies to get to Mick, which gave his children considerable pause. But that didn’t stop Roz. Bodies or no bodies, blood or no blood, she ran to Mick. She couldn’t get to him fast enough.
EPILOGUE
When Mick woke up and saw that Roz was already in the master bath soaking in the tub, he got up too. Today would be the day when he would push the envelope. Today would be the day when he would see if his healing body had healed enough.
One month ago he had been shot down in the street. Shot multiple times. He didn’t think he would make it. If Roz would have left him, he wouldn’t have made it. But now he was getting out of bed naked, slipping on a pair of shorts, slipping on a t-shirt, and stringing up a pair of tennis shoes. He had to know the limits of his stamina. He had to know the limits of his movements. He had to know if today would be the day when he showed himself in public again.
He went downstairs. After checking on the twins: they were both asleep, he headed for the front door. The house was wondrously quiet, just the way he used to love it, and he felt as if he had traveled around the world in a month.
Outside, the gray clouds were already receding and the sky was beginning to show some sun. There were no roosters on his estate, but there were plenty of birds and squirrels. And they were out in force. It was six a.m. The world was waking up. Mick Sinatra was on the rise again.
He stretched on his front porch for several minutes, and then began running. He didn’t have to leave home. His estate was big enough. He ran across his estate. He ran and he ran. His first run since the shooting. His first run in over a month. He used to be able to run five miles easily. Today, he could barely manage two. But by the time he made it back into the house, he was satisfied. He was back.
But as he grabbed a bottled water out of the kitchen’s frig, and made it way upstairs drinking it, he was unsettled too. Three heads of families were killed in his home. Three mobsters who thought they were going to put an exclamation point on their ambush by proclaiming to the world that they not only took Mick the Tick out of commission, but they took him out in his own home. It didn’t work. But that didn’t mean it was over. That didn’t mean he was going to let it stand.
He and his family remained on high alert. That was their new normal now. There was no chatter, and he had an army listening for it, but that didn’t mean he would ever put his guard down again. He blamed himself for that ambush. He blamed his inability to put two and two together until it was almost too late, for that day in those streets when his wife saved his life. His family was at stake now. If his enemies thought he was ruthless before, they hadn’t seen the half of it. Because Mick wasn’t going to be fucking around anymore. He was going aft
er every soul who knew what those three fuckers were up to, and every soul that should have known. He was going hard and harder until he annihilated all of them. They might have thought it was over. Because of the silence on his end, they might have thought he was moving on. But Mick was only regaining his strength. This shit wasn’t over by a long shot. It hadn’t even begun.
Rosalind was still soaking in the tub when he made it upstairs. Instead of disturbing her, Mick went into one of their numerous guest rooms and showered quickly. He returned to their bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed, and then laid back. Within minutes he was fast asleep. And snoring. As if that two-mile run had taken a toll.
When Roz got out of the tub and walked into the bedroom drying off, she stopped in her tracks. There was Mick, lying across their bed asleep and naked, and looking so serene to her that it concerned her. It had been a long road to recovery for Mick. There were days when he had set-backs. There were days when he exceeded all expectations. But it was still a long way back. He hadn’t been to SI, to his office, since it happened, and she hadn’t been to hers. She opted to stay by his side. She opted to recover right along with him.
Today, she was going back to the office because he decided he was ready to go back too. But it looked as if he had gotten out of bed, to get ready for work, and fell back asleep. As if he didn’t have the stamina to even get ready. As if he wasn’t quite there after all.
She wrapped the towel around her body and moved over to the bed. She sat down beside him on the edge, and lightly shook his arm. “Mick? Wake up. Mick?”
But he continued to sleep soundly. And normally, she would have let him. This past month was the most rest he’d had in probably decades. But she knew he wanted to give the world another try today. She knew he wanted to get back to work today. She shook him a little harder. “Mick? Mick, wake up!”
When he still didn’t bulge, she decided to let it go. This was his first day back in the grind. If he wanted to get a later start, he earned the right.
Mick Sinatra: The Harder They Fall Page 17
