MOB BOSS 2

by Monroe, Mallory

  But it was better because his penis had expanded to such an extent that he knew it was about to explode if he didn’t enter her and enter her now.

  He moved her onto her stomach, saddled her legs, and entered her from behind. She screamed in ecstasy as his massive rod dug deep into her, as it slid in and out like a tease, only the tease was as intense as the main event, because the feeling never wavered, never ebbed, but kept getting stronger and stronger. Reno did her that way. Of all the men she’d ever had, Reno was the only one who kept her at the highest level of intensity for the entire duration of their lovemaking. And his rod kept sliding in and out, slowly in and out, making her want it, making her willing to beg for it.

  And he gave her more, as his movements became less a slow drag and more a jerk, in and out, in and out, faster and faster, his heart pounding as his rod connected with her tightness and pounded her. She screamed as he banged her, screamed as the intensity overwhelmed her. He made love to her with a sense of urgency, as if he had to make her understand how badly he wanted her; how she was the only woman in this entire world that he wanted.

  He loved Trina, and with every thrust he wanted to brand her with his love. This was his woman, this was his wife, this was his heart, his everything, and he slid in and out of her faster and faster as if he still had points to prove. And he wanted her to know that he was willing to prove it. The feeling was so intense as he pounded her, that he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. But he kept on banging, kept holding out for more, kept giving her a ride she wouldn’t soon forget when he finally made his mark.

  He leaned his body on top of her, her ass shaking in sensual delight from his pounding. She felt every throb, experienced as thrust, could feel her inner muscles tightening around his rod as if she was imprisoning him. Which only made him pound harder. Until the mark he kept hitting suddenly couldn’t take another bulls eye, and she quivered with the joy of coming, with the sensation of knowing that the man she loved, the only man she dared to touch her, was causing this euphoric wonderment.

  And when Reno came, when his penis engorged beyond capacity and all he could do was release his fullness inside of her, he screamed her name. “Oh, Tree!” he screamed. “Oh, Tree!”

  He was unable to stop the intensity as his neck muscles strained, as his entire body clenched with the kind of joy only Trina knew how to bring to him. And he couldn’t stop banging, he couldn’t stop trying to penetrate her even deeper, as his release wouldn’t stop pouring into her, and out of her, and on the sides of her. He banged and poured, banged and poured, until his energy was as a feather and he was a man bare and drained. Everything he had, every inch of him, now into her.

  And he sagged down, unable to move a muscle.

  Trina smiled in a kind of confident satisfaction. She was always amazed at how a man of Reno’s strength became as limp as a raggedy Andy doll after his release.

  When he managed enough strength to slide off of her, and they were laying side by side, her on her stomach, him on his back, he could only shake his head. “You trying to kill me, woman,” he said breathlessly, and she looked at him as a smile slowly filled his gorgeous face. Sometimes it shocked her how fortunate she was. Sometimes it scared her, too.

  “You didn’t exactly have mercy on me, either,” she replied and they both laughed. He had a plane to catch, he had more shit to deal with, but right here and right now he gathered Trina into his arms. Nobody, he decided, nor circumstances beyond his control, was taking this precious moment, with his new bride, away from him.

  ***

  In a raucous ball park in Schenectady, New York, Williard “Pags” Pagnini walked up to the sideline where Marcy Davenport stood. She was a tall, thin, blonde bombshell of a woman, a former runner up Miss New York who could still grace the cover of any glamour magazine. But now she wore sweats and a t-shirt, sipping from bottled water and cheering on her son’s Little League softball team. Pags found it amusing that this former button, this killer, could be so suburban, so motherly now.

  “That’s all right, Nick!” Marcy yelled to the smallest boy on the field as a strike was called again, “just keep your eye on the ball.” She began clapping. “You’re doing good, babe! You’re doing just fine!”

  “Good practice,” Pags said as he stood beside her.

  “They’re a great team. Best I’ve seen in a while. They’ll get it together,” Marcy said before she turned to look at the man now positioned beside her. When she saw who it was, her heart rammed against her chest. “Pags?” she asked, astounded.

  “The one and only.”

  “But I thought---.”

  “You thought what, Marcy? That I was dead? Is that what the papers said?” He snorted, looked back at the kids on the baseball field. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

  “But Frank said you were dead. Frank said he personally ordered your hit.”

  “Yeah, he did say that, didn’t he? But who you gonna believe? Dead Frank Partanna, or this live human being, your old friend, standing right in front of you?”

  Marcy stared ahead, still stunned, but also terrified. A visit from a man like Pags was never a good thing.

  “I don’t know if I’d agree with you, however,” Pags said, still looking at the ball players. She looked at him. “I don’t see great when I see this team, although I see some potential there. Especially with the littlest one. With your kid.”

  Marcy’s heart pounded. She knew a threat when she heard one. “What do you want, Pags?”

  “I’m just taking in some sun, watching the kiddies play. That’s all. And I happened to notice your kid. He stands out, know what I’m saying? He’s what you call a what? A leader. Yeah, a leader.” He said this as young Nick swung and missed again, his small body careening around and then dropping to his rump. “Like his old man.”

  Marcy could barely breathe. He didn’t know. Nobody knew. “I’m out of the game, Pags,” she said. “You know that.”

  “I knew you were out yesterday. Just like me. I was deep underground yesterday. Everybody thought I was dead and gone yesterday. They pulled me out of the cold, too, Marce, just like they pulled you out. But this is a new day. Things changed overnight. I had to get pulled back in. Then he exhaled. “We’re pulling you back in, Marce.”

  Marcy was shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “No.”

  “Yes, Marcy.”

  “No, Pags, no. Now I heard about what happened, but that has nothing to do with me. I’ve been out of that game for years, and I’m not about to go back in just to avenge somebody’s death. Least of which that bastard Frank Partanna.”

  “He killed Paulo Gabrini, Reno’s old man. Ain’t that good news?”

  “Fantastic news. And hell yeah I was glad to see Old Man Gabrini die, I’m not gonna lie. I was glad they clipped that Gabrini. But I’m not avenging Frank’s death even if he was the one to clip him.”

  “But you didn’t lose any sleep over Gabrini’s death.”

  “I told you I was thrilled they took him out. But that’s as far as it goes with me.”

  Pags smiled. “The soccer mom thrilled over the senseless murder of another human being.” He shook his head. “What is this world coming to?” Then his bulldog face became serious. “We don’t need you to avenge anything for us. We just need you to put us in a position to avenge it ourselves.”

  “I’m out, Pags, and I’m staying out.”

  Pags looked away from her and at the baseball diamond again. “Handsome boy you got yourself there. Very strong features. Looks a lot like his old man.”

  Marcy hesitated. “His old man’s dead,” she eventually said.

  “He will be,” Pags said, looking at Marcy. “But not yet.”

  Marcy’s heart dropped. “Whatever rumor you’re working from, it’s false.”

  “Let’s cut the bullshit, Marce, shall we? I’m not here in this backwater town for my health. We know that kid is Reno’s kid. You know it and we know it. Reno don’t know i
t, however.”

  “And that asshole never will!” Marcy spat out between clenched teeth, her old self beginning to emerge.

  Pags smiled. “He won’t hear it from us. If you cooperate, he won’t hear a word from us. Besides, you have additional motivation to help us.” Marcy looked at him. “The Feds, for instance.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You came to work for Frank after the Gabrinis gave you the boot. We know where the bodies are buried, sweetheart. All we have to do is turn over your file to the Feds and you’re a lifer sure as I’m standing here. Death Row even.”

  Marcy stared at him. She used to be able to size up fear and bullshit in a man in a matter of seconds. She didn’t see either in Pags. “What do you want?”

  “We, my dear, want Reno Gabrini’s head on a silver platter, and you’re just the person who can serve it up to us. Otherwise, Reno Junior over there, or whatever his suburban name is, will have to be served up instead.” Pags said this and looked at Marcy. “Capiche?” he said.

  Marcy, the old Marcy back in spades, was staring daggers at him.

  TWO

  Reno hurried across the airfield toward the waiting private jet as Joe Ralson hustled to keep up with him. Their suits, and hair, were blowing wildly in the wind.

  “There’s no room for any fuck-ups, JoeJoe,” Reno said as he walked, refusing to break his stride. “I want you to know her every move. Any activity, anything that seems trivial, out of the ordinary, strange or whatever, you check it out. Don’t tell me you didn’t think anything of it at the time, I don’t wanna hear that shit. This should be an easy assignment, I don’t anticipate any problems, but that doesn’t mean you come here and relax, take it easy, let your guard down. There’s no room for error, you hear me? This my wife we’re talking about, not some easy lay girlfriend of the moment, and I’ll track you down to hell if you don’t protect her in my absence.”

  “Come on, Reno, you talk to me like I’m not family, like I wouldn’t lay down and die for you. For your new bride. Have I ever let you down?”

  “No,” Reno said matter-of-factly, “or you wouldn’t be here. Just take care of her, all right? And do it discreetly. I don’t want her seeing you all over the place because she may not like it. She may rethink her decision to hook up with a bad news joker like me.”

  “She’s protected, Reno, don’t worry,” Joe said, tired of all of his threats. “I know how to protect, that’s why I’m here. Fort Knox don’t have better protection. On this you have my word.”

  Reno looked at Joe. He wasn’t the best. The best was in Vegas. But he was the closest, a man who happened to be in Birmingham on business when Reno was calling around this morning for backup, and was able to get here before Reno left town. His Vegas backup was on their way, but they wouldn’t be here for hours.

  “Just do it, JoeJoe,” he said with all sincerity, “or your ass is mine.” Reno then hopped on the plane, and Joe stayed on the ground.

  Reno Gabrini was the strangest dude Joe had ever met, a man with the moral compass of a saint but the ruthlessness of the most sadistic of sadistic killers. Crossing him wasn’t going to be as easy as crossing his old man. But man was Joe going to love it when Reno did get his due. The asshole. Treating him like his bitch! Who did he think he was?

  “Yeah,” Joe said aloud as Reno boarded the plane and was completely out of earshot, “I’ll take care of that nigger wife of yours all right. I’ll take care of her real good. Don’t worry about a thing. I got that nigger wife in my crosshairs you bastard!” Then he grinned and waved at Reno, kept waving and grinning at the man he hated, as the plane lifted up, and carried Reno away.

  ***

  “I told you not to worry about the price, Mama,” Trina said as she followed her mother, Earnestine Hathaway, and her near-empty buggy around the grocery store. “I’ve got it. Just get what you want.”

  “Eighty-nine cents for a can of early peas,” her mother grumbled, “is outrageous. I remember when they were ten cents a can, ten cents. Now eighty-nine cents? Who can afford that? I’ll not pay it. I tell you I won’t.”

  Then don’t, Trina wanted to scream. Her mother would try the patience of a saint, when patience was always Trina’s shortcoming. But while dealing with her mother, patience was exactly what was called for. “This can of corn is cheaper,” she said. “Three for a dollar, Mama, that’s cheap enough. What about corn?”

  “I want early peas, not corn. Early peas.”

  “Then get it, Mama, goodness. I told you I got it. I’ll pay the eighty-nine cents.”

  “With that mob money, no you won’t. They ain’t putting me in no prison for laundering money or whatever it’s called, no ma’am. I ain’t never seen the inside of a jail in sixty-odd years on God’s green earth and I’m not about to see the inside of one now. Daughter or no daughter. Mob boss or no mob boss.”

  “Will you stop saying that?” Trina implored, then lowered her voice. “Reno is not a mob boss. He’s a legitimate hotel and casino owner, Mama. All right?”

  “Yeah, and Marlon Brando was legitimate too. Him and that Scarface character. I seen them movies. He’s as much a mob boss as they were. I seen them movies.”

  Trina rolled her eyes. “I’ll wait over at the drug store, Mama,” she said, and then added, in the interest of patience, “but take your time.”

  “I seen them movies,” her mother yelled after her, as if to prove that her departure didn’t change the facts.

  Trina walked across the street to Pexall Drug Store which, in Dale, was also the local soda pop shop. She purchased a bottle of Coke and took a window seat near the front entrance. From where she sat she could clearly see when her mother exited the grocery store.

  It was an unusually humid Fall day in Dale, with temperatures expecting to top nearly eighty-five degrees, and she was prepared in her shorts and halter top. An outfit, she also realized, that was getting her a lot of male attention. Reno would not have approved, she knew. She even smiled at how much he would have disapproved. Since she’d known him, he’d already insisted she change clothes a time or two, declaring she was showing too much “skin,” even though every time they were alone together her “skin” was all he wanted to see.

  And just thinking about being alone with Reno, and the way he did her before he left this morning, made her want him inside her again. That man had her so dick-whipped it wasn’t even funny. She’d never been this taken by another human being before in her entire life, never felt so attached, so connected like this. But Reno had her lock, stock, and over a barrel. And she actually loved the fact that she was his, loved the fact that he was so protective of her.

  “My my, what are you doing here?” a familiar voice spoke up and Trina, startled, turned to the sound. To her amazement it was Jeffrey Graham, the young man she had run away from Dale with years ago, coming up to the banquettes from the back of the drug store.

  Trina smiled. It had been years since their breakup, and their last contact ended in a fight, but she was still surprisingly glad to see him. Before they became lovers, they were childhood best friends. “I could ask you that same question,” she said.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  He smiled, motioned toward the seat opposite her. “May I?”

  “Sure, Jeff, have a seat.”

  He looked the same, she noticed as he slid into the booth seat across from her. He still had that beautiful dark-brown face, those gorgeous white teeth, those maddening bright brown eyes, that physique that could rival Reno’s.

  “It’s been a while, girl,” he said, sitting his prescription refill on the tabletop. “How you been?”

  “I’ve been great, Jeff, how about you?”