Mick Sinatra: Love and Shadows

by Mallory Monroe

  But neither father nor son had time to react. Because it was already handled. Richie Russo had shot and killed himself.

  Mick hurried out of his car as Richie’s body fell to the earth. Teddy, amazed, got up, too. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked his father.

  But Mick wasn’t answering questions. He was too concerned about what it meant. Because to an O.G. like Mick Sinatra, a man who would kill himself rather than tell what he knew, was a man who feared whomever forced him to renege on his agreement, more than he feared Mick. It was an occurrence so rare that even Mick didn’t think it was possible.

  But the more Mick thought about it, the more a different thought crystallized in his mind. “Get a team to check on Richie’s family,” he said to Teddy. “His wife. His kids. Find out if they’re okay.”

  Teddy looked at Mick. Why the fuck should they care if his family was okay? But he knew his father didn’t make idle requests. “Yes, sir,” he said, and pulled out his phone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Deuce McCurry, Mick’s longtime African-American driver tasked with guarding Rosalind, had just changed his radio station from Pop to Jazz when his car door opened, and Mick got in. Mick had access to Deuce’s car, since the car actually belonged to Mick, so the fact that he could get in was no surprise. But his sudden presence, without Deuce even aware of his arrival, did cause Deuce to reach for the revolver he had on his lap.

  “Boss?” he asked. “Where the hell did you come from?” He looked out of his rearview mirror for Mick’s car. It wasn’t there.

  Mick pointed across the street, in the back of the parking lot. His Lamborghini sat facing outward, as if it had been there all along. Deuce felt inadequate. He should have seen him coming.

  But Mick, Deuce could tell, wasn’t there to criticize his methods. He seemed more burdened than disappointed. “What is it, Boss?” he asked him.

  Mick, at first, didn’t say anything. And then he exhaled. “Any heat so far?” he asked.

  Deuce shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Did she go anywhere today?”

  “Nowhere. Why? What’s going on, Boss?”

  “I’ve got myself a dock hit.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that. Those fuckers killed our guys, but left our guns. What kind of shit is that?”

  “And I’ve got me another contract dispute.”

  “Another back out? Other than Mahoney?” Deuce asked.

  Mick nodded. “Rich Russo this time,” Mick said.

  Deuce was surprised. “Damn, Boss. Richie Russo? You negotiated that deal personally. I never heard of anybody backing out of a deal you negotiated.”

  Mick had never heard of it, either.

  “What’s his beef? He wants a bigger cut rather or a bigger payout? Did somebody put him up to it? Knowing Richie Russo, that’s more likely than straight up defiance. Which is it?”

  “He killed himself before I could find out.”

  Deuce was floored. He looked at Mick. “He killed himself? But why would he kill himself?”

  Mick had no idea, and therefore didn’t answer Deuce. He, instead, pulled out his cell phone and pressed the camera icon that monitored the twins’ every movement inside his home. Joey had arrived, as Mick ordered him to get over there as backup to the security already there. He was in the playroom with the twins and their nannies, talking on his cellphone. Joey still had his issues, and still held a level of neediness and immaturity that Mick still couldn’t comprehend, but he was becoming more reliable with each passing day. Mick ended his sneak peep.

  Then he looked at Deuce. “I’m going to put another man on this detail,” he said bluntly. “Just in case.”

  Deuce nodded. Normally, he would be offended. He was no fucking novice who needed help. He could handle this detail alone. But whenever Mick was disturbed about something, one of the first things he often did was to tighten security around his wife. It was his standard operating procedure. Deuce was used to it. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Then Mick got out of the car, and called in the order to bring in another crew. But instead of heading for his own car, he headed inside his wife’s office building. To eyeball her for himself.

  Roz was in her office, seated at her conference table, sipping coffee and still going through the mail that had piled up in her absence. Her door opened swiftly, and Giles Fortney and Archie Stein barreled in.

  “I was looking out for your best interest, Roz,” Archie quickly said.

  “No, he wasn’t,” Giles promptly disagreed.

  Teegan Salley, Roz’s secretary, hurried in behind them. “I told them you did not wish to be disturbed, Mrs. Sinatra. But they came in any way!”

  Roz was staring at the two men who now stood on the opposite side of her table. She knew, by virtue of the comments they both had made, that something had gone horribly wrong. “It’s alright, Tee,” Roz said. “Close the door.”

  Teegan still didn’t like the way the men had so blatantly disrespected her, but she was used to those arrogant agents. She stepped back out, and closed the door behind her.

  “When your Broadway career took off,” Archie said, “you appointed me to be your chief negotiator. Not any other agent in this organization. Certainly not Giles here with his wrong-ass views about everything. You appointed me.”

  “Get to the point, Archie,” Roz said. His longwinded riffs about everybody else’s incompetence often irritated her.

  “The point is,” Archie said, “I did what my professional judgment told me was best for your career.”

  “He did what his professional judgment told him was best for his own career,” Giles said.

  Now Roz was suspicious herself. She leaned back. “What did you do, Arch?” she asked.

  Archie took a moment to compose himself. But his hesitation gave space for Giles’s elucidation. “He gave those London producers exactly what they wanted. He verbally agreed to a six-month-long performance contract in the West End.”

  Roz quickly leaned forward. “You what?” she asked Archie.

  “It’s my job to look out for your best interests, Roz,” Archie said in defense of his decision.

  But Roz was still in shock. “You agreed to terms without consulting me? You agreed to terms when I told you there is no way I’m willing to have a six-month run anywhere outside of Broadway right now?”

  “But you aren’t thinking straight, Roz,” Archie insisted.

  Roz was incensed. “Excuse me?”

  “What I meant to say,” Archie quickly corrected himself, “is that you’ve forgotten how hard we worked to get you to this place in life.”

  “Bullshit!” Roz declared. “You didn’t work hard to get me any damn where. I worked hard to get me where I am. My husband worked hard to get me to this place in my life. He bankrolled my entire debut in that starring role on Broadway. He gave me my big break when nobody else would give my ass the time of day! He even bankrolled this agency before I got a break on Broadway. So your ass better not stand in my office rewriting history.”

  “I misspoke,” Archie said, holding up his hands. He did not want to feel the wrath of Roz. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I hired you as my negotiator because you’re a seasoned pro who knows the business inside out,” Roz continued, ignoring his veiled apology. “I hired you to field offers for me; not to decide which ones I should take. And especially not for you to agree to terms I told you were not agreeable, without consulting me first! A six-month run when I told London that was off the table? What were you thinking, Arch?”

  “You need this exposure,” Archie insisted. “You’re hot right now. You have to strike while the iron is hot! A year from now you’ll be thanking me.”

  Roz was so livid with that man! “I’m not doing a six-month-run anywhere. Contact London and inform them of that unchanged fact.”

  “That’s the problem, Roz,” Giles said.

  Roz frowned. “What’s the problem?”

  “As your neg
otiator, Archie has authority to agree to terms in contract negotiations. That’s what he does. He agreed to terms. He signed the prelims already.”

  “Then he’d better un-sign them,” Roz said, although she already that was easier said than done.

  “It can’t be un-signed,” Archie informed her. “It cannot, Roz. Not without a massive lawsuit. You’ve got to do it.”

  Roz leaned back in her chair. If they were to say she was angry, then they would have been grossly understating it.

  But then her secretary notified her that Mick was there to see her.

  Roz was surprised, but didn’t show it. “Send him in,” she said to her secretary. Then she looked at Archie and Giles. “I’ll have to deal with this later,” she said.

  Neither man argued with her. They would rather eat nails than to feel the wrath of Mick. They walked out and spoke, as Mick walked in and closed the door behind them.

  “You look busy,” Mick said as he walked toward her.

  “You look tired,” Roz responded. “What are you doing back here already? I thought you were at S.I.”

  “Something came up,” Mick said, kissed her on the lips, and then sat down at the table beside her.

  But Roz was curious. Mick was too busy a man to be dropping in to see her when he’d just dropped her off. “What came up?” she asked him. “The children okay?”

  “They’re all fine. It’s not that. I saw Teddy, and I spoke with Gloria. Joey’s at the house with the twins. I just saw them on the monitor. They’re all fine.”

  “Then what is it? What came up?”

  Mick used to say ‘business,’ and that would be the end of it. But lately, he’d been sharing more and more with Roz. Lately, she’d become his confidante. “Two guys had agreed to sell me a part of their territory. A majority part. We’re expanding, and I need the space. Both of them reneged on me.”

  Even Roz was surprised. “Both of them?” she asked. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

  Finally, somebody said what he’d been thinking. “No,” he said. “It can’t be.”

  “Somebody put them up to it, then,” Roz said.

  Mick nodded his head. “That would be the safe bet.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “No. Not yet. But I don’t like where it’s headed, babe.”

  “What do you mean?” Roz asked.

  Mick leaned back. Roz could see the strain in his eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Two of our crews at the docks were hit.”

  Roz hated to hear that. “Two? Everybody okay?”

  “Nobody’s okay,” Mick said. “It was a total loss.”

  “Total? You mean everybody died?”

  Mick nodded.

  “But what does it mean?” Roz asked. “Why are they coming at you like this?”

  “I’m still running the syndicate. Everybody knows I’m still at the helm. But everybody also knows that Teddy’s presence in my organization has been far more visible than it used to be. He’s second-in-command full stop, period, and they know it now. And as soon as I make that move, this shit starts happening? Two pricks decide to defy me? With one of them reneging on terms I, myself, negotiated? Then nearly sixty of my men at two docking stations get iced? And they didn’t touch my guns? The shipments weren’t touched in either hit? That’s only a coincidence if coincidence meant planned and plotted.”

  “But who would have the balls to do all of this?” Roz asked. “A new boss on the scene trying you, maybe?”

  Mick felt as if he was talking to his equal when he talked to Roz. She understood his thinking. “That’s why I don’t like where it’s headed,” he said.

  “Because of the implication?”

  Mick nodded. “Yes.”

  “Because, if they would defy you, then they must fear this other boss more than they fear you.”

  Mick nodded. “Right. That’s the only way it’s adding up. One of the guys killed himself when Teddy and I cornered him.”

  Roz frowned. “But why? Because he was afraid of what you might do to him?”

  “He knew I wasn’t going to kill him because he wouldn’t give up his own territory,” Mick said. “I was going to show him the error of his ways. I was going to coax him into changing his mind and, if that didn’t work, I was going to force my will on his ass. But I’m street, Rosalind. I came up abiding by street justice and Richie Russo, the guy who offed himself, knew it. He came up that way, too. Not giving up your own territory is not a crime punishable by death in street justice, and he knew that.”

  “So what does it tell you then?” Roz asked. “That whomever forced him to renege isn’t street?”

  Mick nodded. “And won’t be bound by street justice. It tells me that he feared this guy so much that he would rather die than face him. That’s what it’s telling me.”

  “But that’s not good, is it, Mick? I mean, who would be more feared than you?”

  It was a question Mick couldn’t answer. Not because he was delusional about his reach and power, but because he wasn’t.

  Roz saw the stress all over his tortured face. He hated variables. He hated the unpredictable. He hated when a shadow enemy haunted him and forced him to grope in the dark.

  She got out of her chair, went to his, and got on her knees in front of him.

  “Ah, Rosalind,” Mick said, reaching for her, “you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know,” Roz replied as she began unzipping his well-tailored trousers. “But no man of mine is going to come to my office as stressed as you look right now, and leave the same way.” She smiled as she pulled out his cock. She looked up at him. “What good would I be to you if I’m not down for whatever?”

  Mick smiled, too. “I thought that was the forbidden phrase,” he said.

  But as soon as her soft, brown hands began massaging his expanding rod, and her mouth followed with even more expertise, his smile left, and that hooded, sensual look returned. He was in full erection within seconds.

  Although Roz’s office door was not locked, and her secretary was just outside of that door, neither one of them gave a fuck. Mick had a need, Roz was satisfying that need, and Mick was leaned back, with his legs wide open, as she gave him her all.

  Until something strange happened when Roz went all the way down on him, taking his member all the way down her throat. By the time her mouth began moving back up his rod toward the head, with her tongue licking every vein, Mick came. As a testament to just how stressed he truly was, and the fact that Roz had picked up on it better than his own instincts had, he came quicker than he’d ever come before.

  His cum oozed out of his head and into Roz’s mouth before he could pull out. But instead of pulling away herself, she encouraged him to cum harder as she squeezed his balls and jerked and licked his cockhead. Mick was slouched down so far in his chair that he was almost off of the seat as he pushed his penis deeper down her throat and strained every muscle in his body as he came. He held Roz’s head and mouth-fucked her hard, pushing her up and down along his cock as she swallowed every drop.

  And finally, when she pulled away, a string of silkiness pulled away too. Mick felt embarrassed that he needed relief so much that he would put her through that experience. He knew swallowing wasn’t pleasant for her. And when they finished, he even lifted her up onto his lap and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered in her ear.

  But Roz would have none of it. “Don’t be,” she said. “I’ll do anything for you. This is nothing.”

  Mick looked at her when she said those words, and that swell of emotion overtook him. He held her tightly in his big arms. He’d never known love like this before. He loved her so much that he knew he had to return the favor. He had to pleasure her. And he was about to. He was about to give to her as good as she gave him, but his cellphone began to ring.

  “Dammit!” he said angrily because he knew, given the times, he would have to at least see who was phoning him. He pulled
out his phone. When he saw that it was Teddy, he placed the call on Speaker, and answered.

  “Bad news, Pop,” Teddy said before Mick could say hello.

  “What?” Mick asked.

  “Richie’s family was found by our guys. All of them, his wife and his kids, are dead.”

  Mick was stunned.

  Roz was too. “Dead?” she asked. “Even after he killed himself rather than talk? Why would they kill his family, too? Who does that?”

  “That’s not all,” Teddy added.

  “What?” Mick asked.

  “We found Mahoney.”

  Mick had not expected it to happen this quickly. “Where is he?”

  “I ordered them to take him to Olsen Street,” Teddy said. “I’m on my way there now.”

  Mick nodded. Teddy’s leadership was exceeding all expectations at this point. But this was getting too big even for Teddy. Mick knew, if this shit was going to be a turf war with a rival he didn’t even know, he would have to take over all aspects of his operation. “Make sure that fucker doesn’t pull a Richie Russo on us,” he added. “We need answers, not another suicide.”

  “Yes, sir,” Teddy said, and Mick ended the call.

  Then Mick held Roz longer. Not saying anything or trying to do anything. He just held her.

  “I wish I didn’t have to go,” he ultimately said.

  “Neither do I,” she responded. But she knew she had to prop him up. “But we need answers,” she added.

  Mick knew it too. But he lingered. And held her even tighter.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Olsen Street safe house wasn’t a house at all, but an old, abandoned factory building that required a walk up five flights of stairs to get inside.

  Mick’s Lamborghini roared through the quiet streets, swerved into the long driveway that led to the factory gates. Armed guards, his men, opened the gate as he approached, and he drove straight in. Two SUVs were parked one behind the other one on one side of the wide driveway. Teddy’s Corvette was parked on the other side. Mick parked behind the Corvette.