Mick Sinatra: Love and Shadows

by Mallory Monroe

  Roz was still fuming about what happened with that London deal, but she wasn’t about to add to his burden right now. “Crazy as usual,” she said, instead. “How about yours?”

  “Crazy as usual,” he responded, with a faint smile.

  Then there was a hesitation: the moment of truth. “I love Big Daddy, Mick. You know I do. And I’m always pleased to see him. But why’s he here?”

  Mick removed the turtleneck without responding. Roz moved from behind him until she was standing beside him. “And why are you suiting up?” she further asked.

  Mick stopped fumbling with his turtleneck, sat it on the chest, placed the palm of his hands on the chest and leaned forward. He wasn’t looking forward to this confrontation in the woods one bit.

  He looked at Roz. But when he looked into her beautiful, caring eyes, his control broke. He swept her into his arms and held her tightly. He rubbed his face on the side of her smooth face. He wrapped his arms around her small body. He loved her sweet aromatic scent, her soft body, her very being, as he held her.

  But his reaction didn’t make Roz any more comfortable. It worried her more. Mick was no wide-eyed romantic who just wanted to hold his wife when he should have been suiting up. Something had happened, and she knew it was major.

  She leaned back from Mick’s embrace, and looked him dead in the eyes. She saw something remarkable there. Not fear ever. Not even anger or distress. But pain. As if what he was suiting up to do was going to be as painful as it was dangerous. “What is it, darling?” she asked him. Then she had an awful thought. “Please don’t tell me one of the children are involved somehow.”

  Mick shook his head and lifted her until she was sitting on top of the chest. They were practically eyeball to eyeball now. “No,” he said. “They know better than that.”

  “Then what is it? I know it’s personal. I can see that.”

  Roz’s intuitiveness was a gift to Mick. He loved her insight. “It’s personal,” he said. “You are correct.”

  “What did you discover? Did that guy you went to meet reveal something disturbing?”

  Mick finally nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He claims Amelia is the person attempting to take over my turf.”

  Roz couldn’t believe it. “Amelia? Your sister?”

  Mick nodded.

  “But the ink hasn’t even dried yet, Mick. You haven’t even had a chance to throw a welcome to the family party for her. And you’re saying she wants to start a war with you?”

  “That’s where this is going right now,” Mick said. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But that’s where it’s going.”

  “But how do you know?” Roz asked. She was deeply concerned now. The idea that Mick, the man who had to kill his own son to protect Roz, would be caught in another position like that, terrified her. She knew her man. She knew that Mick would be devastated if he had to take out the sister he’d only just begun to get to know. “That guy told you? What did he say, Mick?” she asked him.

  “He said he was forced to back out of the contract. He said he was forced to put up shops on my turf.”

  “But did he definitively say Amelia forced him to do all of this?”

  “Yes. And the goons who came to see him were definitely Amelia’s men.”

  “What men of Amelia’s?” Roz asked. “What men does she have? I thought she was traveling abroad. I thought she gave up the drug business.”

  “I thought so, too,” Mick said. “And maybe she has. But I can’t dismiss what I heard. Not until I can prove it wrong.”

  “That’s what you’re going to do tonight?”

  Mick nodded. “That’s what I have to do. Yes.”

  “But what if it’s true? What if Amelia is behind the land grab. What then?”

  Mick felt that piercing pain. He looked into Roz’s big, brown eyes. “Then she’ll have to be dealt with, Rosalind,” he said.

  “But dealt with how, Mick? How are you going to deal with her?”

  Mick exhaled. Took his turtleneck, and put it on over his head. “I hope I don’t have to answer that question tonight,” he said.

  “But you will have to answer it, though,” Roz said. Then she suddenly became highly worried. “You have to know ahead of time how far you’re willing to go.”

  “I’m willing to get out of every situation I’m in alive. That’s my goal. To come back home to you and our children. And since Ted and Charles will be with me, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they return home alive, too.”

  “Even if you have to harm her?” Roz asked.

  “Or kill her,” Mick said. “Yes.”

  Roz felt the stab of his words. And she knew he meant them. If Amelia, if his own sister turned on him, he was not going to go easy on her. That was not Mick. He was going to do everything in his power to take her out.

  “What does Big Daddy say about it?” Roz asked.

  “He’s against any harm coming to her. He’ll take a bullet for her by virtue of the fact that she’s our flesh and blood.”

  “And you?” Roz asked.

  “I don’t know her like that,” Mick said. “I give you liberties. I give my children liberties to a certain extent. But for everybody else, there has to be more than just blood. I’ll take a bullet for Charles. And for Sal and Tommy, and Reno too. Even for Trevor Reese, because of his love for Carly. But that’s not based on kinship. It’s based on what those men showed me they were made of. Amelia helped me when Joey was in danger. And I’m grateful to her for that. But she hasn’t shown me shit yet. If she’s for me, I’ll walk through the fire for her. If she’s against me, I’ll throw her ass in that fire. I’m not my brother. I don’t see it the way he does.”

  Roz nodded. “You can’t,” she agreed. “Fuckers will be coming out of the woodwork if you go soft on somebody who might mean you harm.” Then she shook her head. “But I don’t think Amelia is that person, Mick,” she added.

  “She’d better hope you’re right,” said Mick, and that distressed look overtook him again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was a juke joint on the outskirts of Philly in one of the poorest areas in the county. The building itself looked as if it could fall apart at any moment, and the sound of music was so hillbilly that Mick and Charles wondered if they were in Appalachia rather than anywhere near Philadelphia.

  “Are you sure this is right?” Charles asked Teddy. He sat in the front seat with Carissa, their driver.

  “I’m sure, Big Daddy,” Teddy said. He sat behind the driver, next to his father. “I’ve been here a time or two myself.”

  Mick looked at his son. Out here in this fucking jungle picking up drugs. What was he thinking?

  Then Mick had to wonder what was he thinking by agreeing to come out in these boonies himself. But this apparently was her hangout. This was her operational hub. She had been implicated in trying to undermine him and his operational hub. He needed answers.

  The SUV they traveled in moved slowly through the dirt path that led to the broken-down nightclub. A few cars were outside, along with a guard at the door, but it still had an eerie oddness about it. The lights were on, and that country music was blaring, but there was nothing festive to Mick about partying in the woods. He was seated beside Teddy, slouched down, and appeared, to Teddy, to look completely drained already.

  “How did you find out she was out here?” Charles asked Teddy.

  Teddy had already told them how, but he knew his uncle. He always had his own children repeat stories they told him, to see if it was the same tale. He retold it. “I put the word out with my former lieutenants, those who used to work for me when I was slinging drugs. One of them called back. He said he picked up supplies from her earlier this evening, and this was where she was. And that’s when I remembered this place.”

  But Mick seemed less interested in the retelling of the how, and more interested in the where. Teddy noticed his apprehension. “Can I ask you something, Pop?” he asked as they neared their
destination.

  Mick looked at Teddy as if to say you can ask.

  “You don’t plan to . . . I mean, if it’s her, if she’s behind this, you won’t . . .” Teddy stared in his father’s eyes. He knew what he was capable of, and sometimes it was scary. “She’s your sister is what I mean.”

  Although Charles was deeply interested in how Mick would respond to Teddy’s comment, Mick continued to look around at his surroundings, and didn’t respond to that at all. “I don’t like this layout,” he said instead. “Too many moving parts.”

  “You think we should turn back and get more men?” Teddy asked him.

  But his question irritated Mick too. “Were you listening, Teddy, when I talked to you repeatedly about situational responses? Were you listening at all?”

  Mick told Teddy a lot of things before he gave him more responsibility in his organization. But Teddy did remember what he said about army size. “I was listening,” Teddy responded. “You said there’s such a thing as too many soldiers on the battlefield.”

  “Right,” Mick said. “If we intend to do her no harm, then the fewer people with that capacity, the better. But that’s also why I don’t like preconditions when I have a job to do.”

  Charles chimed in. “This has to be the exception, Mick,” he said. “She’s our sister. We weren’t exactly there for Sprig the way we could have been.” Sprig was their now-deceased other sister. Sal and Tommy Gabrini’s mother. “We need to talk to Amelia. That’s all I’m saying. Hear her out first.”

  Mick understood what Charles was saying. But that didn’t mean he agreed with it. If this shit went sideways, and it went sideways because of Amelia, he wasn’t risking his son nor his brother nor himself, for that matter, to save somebody who would seek to do them harm. But he prayed, nonetheless, that it didn’t go down like that.

  The SUV came to a halt and the guard outside walked up to the driver’s side window. He looked inside. “What’s up, Teddy?”

  “We need to see her,” Teddy said.

  The guard looked at Charles, and then at Mick. He seemed surprised to see Mick the Tick. But then he looked back at Teddy. “You got cash?”

  “Always.”

  “You’re packing?”

  “Does it look like I’m packing?”

  The guard smiled. “Yeah, motherfucker.”

  Teddy smiled too. He had a charming smile, even Mick had to admit that. But not so charming that a guard wouldn’t even frisk him. But this guard didn’t frisk him, which only added to Mick’s concerns.

  “Come with me,” the guard said and they all piled out of the truck. Their driver remained behind the wheel. She knew her role.

  Teddy and Charles looked like businessmen at a business convention to the guard. And if Mick the Tick wasn’t with them, that’s what he might have thought. Mick owned one of the largest corporations in Philly. He was a bona fide businessman. But he’d heard of that mean asshole Sinatra, and knew him from afar. But it still looked striking. Three white businessmen in the woods at a juke joint. Out of place, in other words.

  And that was exactly how Mick felt. He felt out of place. He felt as if he was coming to a gunfight with a knife, and this was not going to end well. Not because they couldn’t handle it. He was a surefire, and so were Charles and Teddy. But because there were preconditions which meant, in the heat of battle, there could be hesitation on Charles’s part, and on Teddy’s. Which meant, Mick also knew, that he had to pick up the slack. He had to be hypervigilant. Because if Amelia’s goons tried something up in that bitch, he wasn’t hesitating to see who was doing the shooting. Every motherfucker in the building was going down if he had to take them down singlehandedly. That was how Mick the Tick approached every dangerous situation. That was how he got out of every dangerous situation alive.

  Mick walked behind the others as they entered the club. His coat was flowing around him and the guard, who stood aside to let them enter, wondered why he always wore that freaking white coat. It was a little chilly out, but it wasn’t that damn cold! Why overdress like that?

  But what he didn’t know, and most people didn’t realize, was that Mick’s coat and black clothing were specially designed for situations like this. They weren’t fashion statements; the same way a general in fatigues wasn’t trying to be a fashion plate. But his coat had many compartments to store items he might need. His black clothing held the same. He knew what he was doing.

  And when they entered the club, Mick’s awareness of where he was, and what he might be called upon to do, only heightened. It wasn’t packed, which was good, but those who were in there were all spread around. Which wasn’t good. And it looked, not like men having drinks in a bar and listening to music, but like men guarding their stations. And no women? Not one damn whore in the whole joint? That didn’t sit right with Mick, either. This was not a juke joint masquerading as a drug pickup station. This was a drug pickup station masquerading as a juke joint. Mick placed his hands in the pockets of his black trousers, with fingers on the triggers of the revolvers he had in those pockets. He began to take a body count.

  One man, a big, burly black guy, came up to them from a backroom. “What’s up, Teddy?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you think?” Teddy asked.

  “I heard you got out of the game,” the man said. “I heard your old man beat your ass and made you pick up your marbles and go home.”

  Teddy smiled. “Fucking moron. I picked up my own marbles and went home.”

  The guy laughed. Teddy was always good for a laugh.

  “But now I’m back,” Teddy said. “With my old man. As you can see.”

  Mick and Charles stood behind Teddy. The big guy looked at Mick, and at his attire, and then back at Teddy. “Okay. So I take it you aren’t here for dime bags. You need massive.”

  “Where is she?” Teddy asked.

  The guy frowned. “What difference does that make?” Then he looked again at Mick the Tick. “What is this?” he asked. “You’re either here for a pickup, or here to see Boss? Which is it?”

  “I want to see Boss,” Teddy said.

  The man looked at them as if he had the power to make that determination, and then he gave in. “Come with me,” he said.

  But as soon as they began to make a move toward the backroom, the men in Mick’s immediate vicinity began to reach for their weapons, as if he and he alone was the target. But Mick saw their move through his peripheral vision, and he didn’t wait to ask questions. He fired first. He lifted the revolvers in the pocket of his pants and fired through the specially designed pockets. He took out the big man first, and then took out four of the others with four shots.

  And his reaction immediately prompted Teddy and Charles to react too, as they crotched down in a defensive position, took out their own weapons, and began firing too. And soon they were under all-out assault; taking cover from what quickly became a barrage of gunfire.

  Mick took cover too, jumping over the bar’s countertop, as the men in the club each ducked behind the tables where they had been sitting, and fired away. Mick reached inside his coat and pulled out his shotgun and fired back, still taking out the men nearest to him.

  Charles was the best long distance shooter of the three Sinatras, dating back to his hunting days in Maine, and he took out the men farthest away. But it wasn’t easy. They were shooting with better cover, and there were many of them. But Charles could handle it. Just as he knew Teddy, who was firing at the intermediate crew, the men in the middle of the bar, could handle it too.

  All three Sinatras worked like well-oiled machines. Led by Mick’s example, they trusted each other to handle their own turf.

  And it worked for the front of the room. But Mick knew there was a backroom. A backroom that more than likely housed Amelia. And after the men in his area had all been iced, he left the fight.

  He was still behind the bar as he crotched down even lower and inched his way to the door that led to that backroom. The
gun battle was still raging, as Charles and Teddy handled their business, but Mick knew, if anybody was going to handle Amelia, it was going to have to be him.

  But he had to be careful. He didn’t know the security she had back there. He made it up to the door, leaned, still in a crotched position, against the doorjamb; and then, after making sure he was ready for an encounter he might regret, used his broad shoulders to knock the door open. He laid on his belly, ready to fire.

  But there was no-one to fire upon. He looked around, with his shotgun pointing in every direction, but nobody was in the room. It was empty. Devoid of person or product. Mick the Tick stood up. Then he ran to find the backdoor. But there was none. He ran to find the open window. But there was no window at all. Nothing. He was stumped.

  And when Charles and Teddy bested their opponents, killing them all, Charles went out front to make sure their driver was okay, and the coast remained clear. Both proved fine.

  The backroom was fine too, if strange was fine. Because Amelia wasn’t there. Nobody was there. Teddy ran in, to assist his father, but no assist was needed.

  “Is this the room she used when you would come see her?” Mick asked.

  “This is it,” Teddy responded. “Where is she?”

  Mick exhaled. “Not here. There’s no backdoor, no windows?”

  “Never was,” Teddy said. “One way in, and one way out. But I don’t get it, Pop. Why did they claim she was back here if she wasn’t? And why the fuck were her men shooting at us?”

  But Teddy was asking Mick questions he wasn’t interested in answering. Because the implication, that Amelia set this whole hit up, was bringing it too close to home for him to talk about.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Roz was asleep in bed when Mick arrived home later that night and headed straight for the shower. She didn’t expect him to come home at all. He often stayed away when situations got personal. He would stay away all night, and then return that next morning. But not this night. He came straight home.