Trevor Reese: His Secret Love

by Mallory Monroe

  He opened the box. It was the right equipment. A semi-automatic assault rifle that he quickly began to assemble. He’d been associated with the military once upon a time, in special ops, and was commissioned to do this hit for that very reason.

  He looked at the picture of his target that was also in the box. Lua Chekov. Fat face. Pink cheeks. Smiling eyes. A decorated general. Committed atrocious war crimes in Aleppo and knew where the bodies were buried. He would have been long forgotten and long forgiven had he not spilled secrets to prop up his own good fortune since his retirement. The government wanted him terminated.

  After assembling the rifle and sitting it across his lap, Trevor looked at the wristwatch on his right arm, pressing the light button on the side to see what time it was. His target wasn’t expected for another half hour. He looked at his second watch, on his left arm. The coordinates showed the target on the go, and on time.

  Trevor leaned his head back. His violet-blue eyes were bloodshot and his body was drained. But this was the price he had to pay. Dingy rooms in dingy towns. Lying in wait like some fucking animal. When the government had your ticket, they punched it. Over and over and over again.

  This life he despised was everything his life in Boston was not. In Boston, he ran a legitimate business. In Boston, he was a well-respected, towering leader of the community. In Boston, he thought again, as he closed his tired eyes, he had Carly.

  Carly, he thought. A smart, gorgeous young woman who came to his attention because of her PR prowess. She handled some of the most difficult public relation cases in L.A., and every one of her clients came out smelling like a rose. He wanted her. Paid a heavy price to get her. When she arrived in Boston, at Reese Marketing, and he got a chance to see just how talented she really was, and how shrewd and cunning, he wanted her in more ways than one.

  But it was complicated. She ran his PR department. He didn’t fool around with his employees, period. Not ever. He didn’t care how cute or talented they were. It was bad business all around. She knew it too, and was against any relationship too.

  And this additional business, where he was often called on to handle nasty jobs that kept him away for days on end, was kryptonite to any stable, trusting relationship. But he fell for her. A man like him; a man who made it his business to stay clear of entanglements of any kind, managed to get himself entangled with Carly.

  Not that Carly was completely immune to the underbelly herself. Her uncle was Mick Sinatra for crying out loud, the most ruthless gangster in the country. And her old man, Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, wasn’t exactly a choirboy either. Trevor had past dealings with that motherfucker before. He knew what he was capable of. And on top of that, her family was related to the Gabrinis: to Sal, Tommy, and Reno. Three giants in the mob world. Although he knew she was a Sinatra by adoption, he also knew she’d seen hell in session since joining that clan.

  But that was primarily the reason Trevor pursued her. In an odd, twisted way, her family connections made her uniquely qualified to be his lady. She had mettle. Her family background required it.

  Then the watch on Trevor’s left arm beeped a beep that shook him out of his reverie of Carly, and back to the stone-cold realness he now faced. He looked at the watch. The car, with the general inside, was now within the range.

  He turned around and got on his knees. He placed his rifle barrel out of the slightly raised window and waited. For minutes that felt like hours, he waited. But then the car drove into view. Not on the street directly in front of Trevor, but on the street one street over. His shot, the only one he was going to get, was between two buildings. He wiped his steely violet-blue eyes with the back of his hand, and focused his lens through the telescopic sight.

  When the Town Car drove in front of the club, his watch double-beeped. The target had arrived. The driver got out and opened the back door, and the target, General Lua Chekov, stepped out. He was a big man already, but had been steadily gaining weight since his retirement. Which meant he wouldn’t be swift of feet, and that helped.

  But even with his bulk, it wasn’t going to be easy. Because of the car’s positioning, where the target would get out at the sidewalk and head straight into the club, Trevor would have to be faster than he preferred to scope-spot and fire. He estimated that he would only have a matter of ten seconds at the most. But he was ready.

  As soon as the target began moving toward the entrance, where there was that brief unobstructed view, Trevor didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger. And he got him. He got him exactly where he needed to get him: through the back, and straight to the heart.

  Chekov’s knees buckled. That was the first sign that Trevor was spot on. Then Chekov turned around as he was falling, because he knew he’d been shot from the back and his instinct was to face his killer.

  But when Chekov twirled around, Trevor was stunned shitless. He was dumbstruck. “What the fuck?” he asked out loud and lifted his head to look beyond the scope. The man he shot, he realized, was not Chekov. He realized the target was not the man he was ordered to kill. It wasn’t Chekov!

  But it made no sense. The agency had their men prepositioned. The agency had their men follow the general for weeks on end and cue Trevor to his final destination. How could they cue the wrong man? But he realized they had. And he also realized, just as swiftly, that it had to have been on purpose, and he had to have been set up.

  But before he could digest his conclusions, the door to the apartment was kicked in, and men with their own weapons rushed in.

  Trevor instinctively turned his rifle away from the window and toward the door in one fluid motion. He didn’t wait to see who it was. He began firing as he turned. He picked them off, one by one, spraying down each and every one of them as if he was hosing down a fire. He requested an assault rifle, rather than a bolt action, for this very reason. For unforeseen circumstances. For shit going down. And it was sliding downhill fast as their bodies fell and caused their bullets to go awry. Trevor could not have envisioned a more unforeseen circumstance than this.

  But he knew this wasn’t the end of it, either. He could hear other gunmen running toward his apartment door too. This was more than a set up. This was a hit on a hit! They wanted Trevor to take out whomever it was he took out, and then they wanted Trevor out.

  And they almost succeeded as bullet after bullet came his way as the second wave of gunmen entered the spear. Trevor fired back, as he dodged and moved, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He had to bail. He had to get out now or there would be no other chance.

  He ran out of the living room, dodging even more bullets as he ran into the bedroom, lifted the window, and jumped out onto the fire escape. Bullets were hitting the metal of the stairs in ricochet as Trevor ducked and dodged his way down the stairs, and then jumped to the ground. He always had a back-up plan should something go wrong. Always. And this time was no exception.

  Trevor ran as fast as he could, knocking aside one of the shocked teenagers as he ran past them with the kind of speed they didn’t think a white boy could possess. They’d heard the gunfire from the apartment complex, but that wasn’t new to them either. What was new was the amount of firepower and the other white men on the fire escape firing at their target as if they would die themselves if they didn’t gun him down.

  But Trevor was too fast. By the time the gunmen made it down the stairs, across the street beyond the teens, and around the corner where their target had run, Trevor was in his prepositioned car, and gone.

  “Damn, damn, damn!” one of them yelled in great frustration, when all they could see was the dust of the ground kicking up, as the getaway car got away.

  Trevor, for his part, drove like a crazy man out of there. But he also knew this was only the beginning of his troubles. He didn’t even know who he killed. He didn’t even know who broke into his apartment and tried to kill him. He settled down, once he merged onto the highway, because he knew it was going to be a long, hard slog to get home.

  C
HAPTER TWO

  Carly Sinatra drove under the portico of the fancy restaurant and checked her text messages again. She had three new ones this time. Two from the job. One from a friend. But nothing, once again, from Trevor. She didn’t know why she was so worried about him. She wasn’t usually this worried. He rarely called her anyway when he was out of town, she thought, as she grabbed her handbag and got out of her Lexus.

  “The key’s in the car,” she said to the valet as she dropped her phone into her bag, made her way into the restaurant, and smiled a grand smile the way she always did when she saw her father.

  “I see him,” she said to the Maître d who was approaching her, and made her way across the room to his table.

  Big Daddy Charles Sinatra rose to his feet and buttoned his suit coat when he saw his daughter approaching him. He always looked bigger than the room to Carly, and always did look that way to her, as she hurried to him. In his dark blue suit and dark blue tie, he was a handsome man to behold. And although most in the restaurant would look at him and declare him stern, sour, not at all a friendly man, Carly knew better. He was tough; some would even say ruthlessly so. But she knew he had a heart of gold.

  “Daddy!” She hurried to him. Many eyes suddenly were on them, mainly due to the oddity of this obviously black woman calling this obviously white man daddy. There were various interpretations on what it meant exactly, based upon who it was that was watching them, but neither of them cared. Carly was too thrilled to see her father again, and her father was too thrilled to see her.

  Big Daddy put on his best smile, which was little more than a smirk, when she arrived at his side. He kissed her adoringly on the lips and pulled her into his arms. “Hey, baby,” he said as he held her.

  When they stopped embracing, and he held out her seat for her, she looked back at him with a grin on her face. “I got your card,” she said.

  “I saw it in this little novelty shop in Jericho and couldn’t resist. It reminded me of you.”

  Carly looked at her father. “A card with little munchkins pushing the bad witch over a cliff reminded you of me?”

  Big Daddy nodded his head. “I know,” he said, “but it did. I guess it made me smile.”

  Carly’s heart warmed inside. Her father was nobody’s sentimentalist. But when it came to Carly, he seemed like a different person. They were closer than close. Although Carly was adopted, she and Big Daddy had the kind of father-daughter relationship most fathers and daughters would die for. He trusted and respected her. She trusted and respected him. And given her background of abuse at the hands of her now-deceased biological father and his despicable cronies, Carly Sinatra respecting any man was rare.

  Once she sat down, and he sat across from her, the waiter came over and took her drink order. “Whatever he’s having,” she said with a smile.

  “You sure?” Big Daddy asked as he lifted his glass. “It’s strong.”

  “I need strong,” Carly said as the waiter left.

  “Rough day at work?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s this rapper with a big heart. Great guy. We cleaned up his less-than-stellar image so that he could launch his acting career a few months back. I got the call just before I left the office that he’s in trouble again.”

  “What kind of trouble? Girl trouble?”

  “Girl trouble that led to murder trouble,” Carly said. “He’s facing a murder charge right now.”

  “A black kid?”

  Carly nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Make sure he gets a good lawyer,” Big Daddy suggested. “He’s going to need one. You know how they try to railroad black kids.”

  “He has a lawyer, but I don’t know how good he is. But I’ll find out.”

  That was good enough for Big Daddy. “Now find out what you want to eat before the waiter returns,” he said.

  Carly smiled. He was a control freak if ever there was one. “Yes, sir,” she said, as she opened the menu.

  The waiter returned to their table with Carly’s drink order, took their dinner orders, and then left once again.

  Big Daddy considered his daughter. Although she was a smart, resourceful young lady, she was also a fragile young lady and he knew it. He worried mightily about her. “You sounded exhausted when I called you this morning and told you I’d be in town today.”

  “That’s because I was exhausted. I’d just finished my morning workout.”

  “So you’re working out again?”

  “I have no choice,” Carly said. “I’ve gained something like eight pounds since I’ve been back in Boston.”

  “Don’t tell me Trevor’s complaining?”

  “Since it all seems to have gone to my butt and my breasts,” Carly replied, “he’s not complaining at all.”

  Big Daddy laughed. Then added: “Too much information, young lady,” which caused Carly to laugh too.

  “Speaking of Trevor,” Big Daddy said as he leaned back in his chair, all smiles gone. “Where is he?”

  Carly exhaled. Trevor. A sore subject. “Out of town,” she said.

  “I thought he was out of town last week. Or he hasn’t returned?”

  “He returned. He’s rarely gone for more than a few days. But he had to go again.”

  A distressed look appeared in Big Daddy’s big, green eyes. “Not great,” he said.

  “No,” Carly agreed. “Not great. But I knew what I was getting.”

  “And what are you getting, sweetie? A boyfriend, a fling, or a potential husband?”

  Carly would have smiled. Big Daddy as a big gossip was humorous to her. But it wasn’t funny. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “We’re still trying to figure that out ourselves.”

  “Which do you prefer?” Big Daddy asked.

  Carly had to think about that one too. She’d been thinking about it for a long time, perhaps ever since she hooked up with Trevor, and still hadn’t reached a conclusion. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Sometimes I feel as if he’s husband material. Sometimes I know he’s not.”

  “He’s not because of his additional profession?”

  Big Daddy knew more about Trevor’s “additional profession” than Carly did. “Not his profession,” she responded after another hesitation. “Mainly him. He’s very secretive. And domineering.”

  “Domineering? As in a dominant man? Is that considered bad now?”

  Carly had to smile. Big Daddy was known to be overly-domineering himself. “It’s not that it’s bad,” she responded. “It’s just that I have to make sure I want a man who would rule me and our household that way. And who would keep so much of himself from me.”

  “Is he faithful to you?” Big Daddy asked.

  Another hesitation. “I don’t know,” was the best Carly could respond.

  “Not good, sweetie. That’s something you should feel in your gut. I told you that.”

  “I know,” Carly said. “But how can I be sure?” She looked at Big Daddy with distress in her own big, hazel eyes. “He’s away so much. And even when he’s in town, it’s not as if we spend all of our waking moments together. He has a major corporation to run when he’s in town. And since I happen to work for him, we can’t even acknowledge that we have a relationship at all. Trevor doesn’t play that. At all. And neither do I, really. So I don’t know. It’s all so new to me, Daddy. I’m not accustomed to a relationship like this.”

  “And you’re so young,” Big Daddy said with concern in his voice. “It’s as if you were thrust into the big leagues before you had a chance to stick around in the minors and prove to yourself that you can handle it. Everybody else believes you can. But do you believe you can?”

  Carly had a lot of confidence in herself, but her father made a good point. She went from graduating from Harvard to accepting a major role in a major PR firm on the west coast, and then to Trevor’s mega-firm on the east coast. And then into Trevor’s bed. It was a lot.

  “He’s also older than you are,” Big Daddy added. “You think
that’s a factor?”

  Carly, a sensible girl, didn’t answer quickly. But she was precise. “No,” she said. “I would have to say no. He respects me. He made me the director of his entire public relations department. I don’t think there’s an issue there. But he’s going to have to show me more than what he’s shown me thus far before I can say unequivocally that I’m all in. He said the same thing.”

  Big Daddy frowned. “He told you he’s not all in?”

  “He said our relationship is still new,” Carly responded. “He says we’re going to take it slow.”

  Big Daddy nodded. “He gave me a similar speech when I inquired. I respected him for not lying and pretending it was more than it was. But I don’t know, baby. Based on my interactions with Trevor, I think his feelings for you are much more than he’s letting on. At least that’s how I read it.”

  Carly smiled. She felt stronger about Trevor than she was willing to let on too. Even to her father, who also happened to be her best friend. “Did Mom tell you about the house?”

  Big Daddy nodded. “She told me, yes. But I didn’t understand why you would be looking to move again. I thought he just moved you out of that house and into that condo for security reasons?”

  “He did. But Trevor owned that house he moved me out of, and he owns the condo I’m living in now, too. I want to purchase my own home. I want to have my own thing.”

  Big Daddy remembered how his wife had a similar idea before they were married, and how he hated the idea. “And Trevor’s onboard with that?” he asked.

  “Trevor doesn’t know. This is something I’m doing.”

  Big Daddy was blunt. “And you have a right to do it,” he said. “Don’t ever get lost in somebody else’s shadow. I don’t care how wide a net he casts. And if money becomes an issue, you don’t go to him, you come to me. When he marries you, that’s different. Until then, I take care of you. Understand?”