He rubbed his lips against her lips, breathing heavily, loving the smell and taste of her. Then they started kissing, long and hard, as his dick continued to glide up and down her walls in steady strokes that gave them the feeling of being beautifully confined in a place of their own making.
“Oh, G,” Sal ultimately started saying as the near-cum was becoming the full cum, and he embraced her so tightly that she could barely breath.
And then they came, both of them together, and Sal increased his gyrations into her until he was thrashing into her. She began to scream, and he had to cover her mouth, as the other residents were undoubtedly listening already. They cared enough not to scream it out, but not enough to stop. They kept fucking. He kept pumping his penis into her, and she kept tightening her womanhood around his rod, until they came with a thunderous cum.
Sal had to bury his mouth in hers, to avoid screaming it out, as he came with vein-popping intensity. Her orgasm, too, was intense, as she wrapped her hands around his lovely head and experienced every second of every pulsation.
After Sal was completely poured out, they remained on their knees in bed, holding onto each other, as if they not only didn’t want to let go, but didn’t know how to let go.
When they finally did part, they cleaned up, laid back in bed, and quickly fell asleep.
It was near midnight when the call came in. Joey Moncrief had finally gotten in touch with Nicky the Noose and the meeting was set. Tomorrow morning, eleven a.m. Joey’s office in Boston. Sal agreed, and killed the call.
Gemma, who was lying on her side in his arms, looked at him. He placed his cell phone back on the nightstand and remained on his back.
“What if it’s a trap?” she asked him.
Sal smiled. “What do you know about traps? And no, it’s not a trap.”
“How can you be so sure, Sal?”
“Because that small-time fucker wouldn’t dare. He doesn’t have a death wish. There’s some hoods out there who do, don’t get me wrong, but Noose isn’t one of them.”
“What are the chances that he’ll lift the contract?”
“He’ll lift it.”
Gemma studied him. “You’re always so certain about these things, as if there’s really such a thing as honor among thieves.”
“There’s no honor among thieves, you’re right about that. But there’s fear among thieves. There’s pecking orders. The Noose knows he’s on the lower end of that peck, and I’m on the higher end. I know what he’s capable of, and he knows what I’m capable of. Any asshole tries to upset the order of things, then everybody at the top gets offended, not just the one he tried to upend. That’s why I’m certain. Noose is no fool.”
Gemma knew there was truth to what Sal was saying. As a defense attorney, she had seen her share of crooks herself, and the only thing those idiots seemed to fear wasn’t the crime they committed and the person that wanted to harm, but the time they had to do after the harm was done. They hated getting caught. She only hoped, for Sal’s sake, that those hoods in his world hated disturbing that pecking order he seemed so certain of, more than they wanted their revenge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“May I help you?”
“I need to see the chief.”
“May I ask who wishes to see him?”
“Sal.”
The woman waited for more, such as his last name, but he didn’t give it to her. “One moment please,” she said.
Sal was in the Jericho Police Department building. More like a storefront on the main drag in town. He stood around while the young lady went into the back office, closed the door, and then came right back out. “The chief will see you, sir,” she said.
Sal went into the office, closing the door behind him.
“Sal, come in,” Brent Sinatra said jovially. He was standing behind his desk, with stacks of papers in his hands.
“How you doing, Brent?” Sal asked as he approached. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Just paperwork.” He dropped the papers onto his desk. “What’s going on?”
A man who got to the point. Sal liked that. “I need you to keep an eye out on my mother’s place.”
“Aunt Sprig’s place? Why?”
“She seems to think there’s some bad guys out to get her.”
“Bad guys? In my town?”
“Out-of-towners,” Sal said. “And since I’m going to be out of town for a few hours today, I’ll feel a little better if you could have one of your officers patrol the area, and keep an eye out.”
Brent studied him. “You’re leaving Miss Jones at Aunt Sprig’s. Am I right?”
He was quick too, Sal thought. “Why do you figure that?”
“She’s my aunt, remember? When she left you and Tom all those years ago, she eventually made her way to us. She was no picnic then, she’s no picnic now. You wouldn’t make this special trip to my office just because of Sprig. You might have called me, I’ll give you that, but you wouldn’t have come.”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong. I came all the way to Maine because of her.”
“That you did. But that’s because she asked you to come. I’m willing to bet my hat that she didn’t ask you to come to me.”
Sal smiled. “Hats off to you, cousin. You’re right. But can you put somebody on it?”
“I can do that.”
“Thanks.”
“So are these bad guys still in town?”
“Don’t know if they even got here yet. I’ll know more later today.”
“And you’ll tell me what you know?”
Sal wasn’t willing to make that promise. “Just make sure you have a guy patrol Ma’s place.”
“So what is she to you then? Miss Jones, I mean. Your fiancée or something like that?”
“Something like that, yes. Why?”
“Just want to make sure.”
Sal frowned. “Make sure about what?”
“That she wasn’t available. She’s a very attractive woman.”
Sal smiled. “She’s not available,” he said. “That’s a fact. You don’t have a problem with that, do you? You aren’t going to try and test her availability, are you?”
“Sal! Come on, man! What do you take me for?”
“A horny-ass dog, that’s what,” Sal said, and Brent laughed.
“But no,” Brent said, “she just seems like a very excellent young lady. Smart. Certainly gorgeous. But . . .”
“But what?”
“But not necessarily your type.”
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong again. She’s my type. There’s no other type I’m interested in.”
“Wasn’t always that way. You used to get on Tommy’s case all the time about his female preferences.”
“That was then, this is now.”
Brent nodded. “Understood.”
“So what about you?” Sal smiled. “I remember when you was down with the swirl before, had yourself that black girlfriend. What happened to her?”
An odd look appeared in Brent’s stark, green eyes. “Long story,” he said.
“Everything’s a long story in this town. What’s with you people? You say to somebody, ‘good morning, how you doing?’ It’s a long story, they’ll say back to you.”
Brent smiled. “I would call that a rank over-exaggeration.”
“But I’m not far off,” Sal said, smiling too. Then he hesitated.
Brent noticed the hesitation. “What is it?” he asked.
Sal frowned. This had been on his mind since yesterday. “You guys are doing great as always. I mean, you can’t hardly drive around a corner in this town and don’t see some business with the Sinatra name slapped on it. But yet. . .”
“But yet what?”
Sal looked at him. “My mother. Why didn’t you guys look out for her better? How could you let her live like she’s living? She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, but she ran to you. You and Tony especially, as the two oldest, you guys could have done something.”
&n
bsp; “We tried at first, Sal. Don’t think we didn’t. We did. But Sprig wanted to live like Sprig wanted to live. She was an alcoholic before she got here, and she only perfected that problem after she came. After years of trying to help her, we realized we were just enabling her. We had an intervention. Several, to be honest with you, but she wasn’t buying it. So we cut her loose. Tony pays her bills. I keep an eye out on her. The bars call me if she drinks too much and can’t get home. That’s the best we can do.”
Sal exhaled. “Yeah, it’s a tough thing. She shut me out completely.”
“Why did you come, knowing how completely she had shut you out?”
“Because she’s my mother, why do you think? My mother calls I’m coming to see about her. I just thought she would have been in a better state. But it can’t be helped now.”
Brent could see the pain in Sal’s eyes.
“But it can’t be helped now,” Sal said again. And then he bid his cousin goodbye, and left.
Joey Moncrief leaned back behind his desk and looked over at the two men. They were standing at the window, toe to toe.
“I’m glad you called this meeting,” Nicky Nugent, better known as Nicky the Noose, said to Sal. “I knew we could resolve this between the two of us.”
“That’s what I want,” Sal echoed, “a resolution. I need you to tell me what you plan to do about this situation.”
Nicky smiled. “I plan to stay in my backyard, that’s what I plan to do. My plan isn’t the problem. It’s what you’re planning to do that’s the problem. I’m already in my backyard, and I’m staying there. I would hope you’re here to tell me of your intention to stay in yours.”
“Turf? You’re talking turf?”
“What else am I talking?” Nicky asked. “That’s the only resolution to this situation. You keep control of your turf, and let me keep control of mine.”
“I’m not . . . What are you talking? I’m here about my mother. And the little matter of that contract you have on her head.”
Now it was Nicky’s time to be puzzled. And Joey’s. “Your mother?” Nicky asked.
“A contract?” Joey asked.
“Yes, my mother,” Sal responded. “Yes, a contract,” he said to Joey. Then he looked at Nicky. “You iced Stanley. Stanley was her man, or her friend or a combination of the two. So she went to the cops. Only she went to the wrong cops and they informed you of her indiscretion. And now you want her dead.”
Nicky looked as if he didn’t know where to begin with such allegations. “Who’s Stanley?” he asked.
Now Sal was getting heated. “What are you fucking around with me for, Noose? You know who Stanley is. He’s one of your boys. One of your lieutenants.”
“I don’t have a lieutenant named Stanley. And never have!”
“I don’t know any Stanley, either, Sal,” Joey agreed.
Sal stared at the two men. Either they were playing him for the biggest chump this side of living, or his mother was. A mother, he thought, who was at this very moment with his woman.
“What’s the matter, Sal Luca?” Joey asked him.
But Sal wasn’t answering. He hurried out of the office, into the hall, and phoned Gemma’s cell. As soon as she answered, he started talking. “Are you still at Mom’s place?”
“I’m still here, yes,” she said.
“Get out of that house and get out now.”
“Get out?” Gemma asked. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“What is it, Gemma?” a male’s voice asked.
Sal frowned. “Who the fuck is that?”
There was a quick pause, and then the male voice was on the line. “It’s Brent, Sal,” the chief said. And as soon as Sal heard Brent’s voice, he exhaled.
“Brent, good. What are you doing there?”
“I decided to come over here myself and stay until you made it back today. Just to be sure.”
“Thank God.”
“So what’s the matter? You found something out?”
“You can say that. Anything weird going on around that house?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, no.”
“Where’s my mother?”
“She’s here. You wanna talk to her?”
“No. Just keep her there until I get there. And stay there if you can.”
“I can.”
“Great. Let me speak back to Gem.”
“He wants you,” Sal heard Brent say.
Then Gemma was back on the line. “Are you okay?” she asked him.
“I’m better now that I know Brent’s there. Don’t leave his sight until I get back. If he has to go on a call, you go with him.”
“You seem to have a lot of confidence in him. I didn’t know you knew him like that.”
“He’s a straight shooter, that much I know. His issue may be women, but it ain’t crime. Stay with him.”
“It’s that serious, hun?” Gemma asked.
“It could be,” Sal said. Because his money was on Sprig. His money was on the fact that it was his mother, not the Noose, who wasn’t telling the truth.
“What was that about?” Sprig asked after Gemma finished the call.
“I’m not quite sure,” Gemma responded.
“What did he say?”
“He was just checking on his lady,” Brent said. He was standing at the living room window, his big hat in his hand.
“He was checking on her,” Sprig said, “but not me? Is that how Sal treats me?”
Gemma and Brent exchanged a glance. “He’ll be here soon,” he said, “so it doesn’t matter. I’m still trying to figure out who these bad guys are that’s supposedly after you.”
“That’s between my son and I,” Sprig said. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“But who are they?”
“I told you not to worry about that.”
“Well worry about this,” Brent said. “Lover boy has just arrived.”
“Who? Craig?”
“Who else?”
The doorbell rang. “Want me to get it?” Gemma asked, about to stand from the sofa.
“I’ve got it,” Sprig said, standing and heading for the door. “It’s Craig, that idiot that was here yesterday. The one supposedly so in love with me. The asshole.”
“Oh, okay.” Gemma couldn’t help but smile.
“And if you put a hand on him again,” Brent said, “I’m arresting you, Aunt Sprig.”
“You try it,” Sprig said as she opened the door. Craig was about to walk in, but Sprig pushed him back out and closed the door behind her. “What do you want?” she asked as the door closed.
Brent and Gemma looked at each other and smiled. Brent began walking toward the chair flanking the sofa where Gemma was sitting.
“She’s her own woman,” he said as he sat down. “Good, bad, and otherwise.”
“I’ve reached that conclusion myself.”
Brent crossed his legs and sat his hat on his lap. He looked down, at Gemma’s short skirt, and her long, sleek legs. “I’m pleased she and Sal are on speaking terms again.”
“Sal wanted it for a long time.”
“Yeah, he did. Certainly more than Tommy ever did. So you and Sal are an item?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve known him for years and years?”
“Not as long as that, but I know him.”
“He thinks very highly of you, that’s for sure.” She smiled. He looked at her bright, white teeth against her dark skin. Stunning, he thought. “I don’t know him that well, I’ve only seen him a few times, but I can see a definite change in him.”
“For the good I hope.”
“Definitely for the good,” Brent said. “Especially in his taste in women,” he added. “Definitely there.”
Gemma smiled. The chief got game, she thought. But not with her. “I’m going to make sure Sprig doesn’t sprang Craig.”
Brent laughed. “Or I don’t attempt to spring you?”
She laughed at that. “That too,” she sa
id, as she headed out of the door.
Later that day, Sal returned to Jericho. By the time he arrived back at Sprig’s house, Brent had to leave to handle a call. Which was fine by Sal. He kissed Gemma, and said his goodbyes to Brent, but his main focus was his mother. Brent was gone, Gemma and Sprig were sitting on the sofa, and Sal sat in the same chair he sat in the day before. It was cut the bullshit time now. He felt as if he’d been on a wild goose chase. He wasn’t playing now.
“Tell me the truth,” he said to his mother, “and tell me now.”
But Sprig didn’t get the memo. She was still singing the same tune. “I told you the truth,” she said. “What are you talking about? Nicky the Noose killed Stanley---”
“Who the hell is Stanley? Tell me that. Nobody has ever heard of him. And I mean nobody! Not even the man who supposedly killed him!”
Gemma was shocked by this. She looked at Sprig.
“Now tell me the truth,” Sal insisted. “What the fuck is going on here?”
But Sprig still didn’t change her tune. “I told you the truth,” she said.
“Why are you lying to me, Ma? I came all this way to help you and you’re lying to me? Why?”
“I’m not lying!” Sprig screamed. “Stop accusing me!”
“Who’s Stanley?”
Sprig hesitated.
“Who’s Stanley, Ma? Who’s Stanley?”
“I told you who he was. He was my friend.”
“What’s his last name?”
She didn’t respond.
“What’s his last name, Ma?”
“Stop it, Salvie, and I mean it,” Sprig said. “You will not sit up here and act as if---”
Before she could finish her sentence, Sal tuned her out. Because he heard a sound, a sound he was too familiar with. It was the sound of a car slamming on brakes. But before he could so much as move a muscle in reaction, it sounded as if a bomb had detonated. A sudden blast of gunfire hurled through the windows, shattering glass and spraying down every vase and dish in its wake. Sal hurled himself on top of Gemma, knocking them both over the sofa, and he pushed his mother over too. But it was Gemma he covered. Not an inch of her body was exposed. He kept his body completely over Gemma’s as the gunfire continued to ring out. There were rounds after rounds. There had to be at least a hundred rounds fired into that little house.
Sal Gabrini 3: Hard Love Page 11
