When they made it onto the second floor landing and Tommy began to head, not toward the guestrooms on the opposite wing, but toward the master bedroom, Grace’s movements slowed. They were going in the wrong direction. But she didn’t speak. She allowed Tommy to lead the way. But when they arrived at the double doors of the master bedroom, and she followed Tommy in, she had to make certain that he understood the boundaries. “Tommy,” she said, “I can sleep in one of the guestrooms.”
“No,” Tommy responded, putting her luggage down, “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”
But that made no sense to Grace. “You don’t have to give up your bed. Why would you give up your bed?”
“Because other than Destiny’s room, which will be occupied by Destiny, this room, with this bed, is the best room in the house. You get my bed. You get my room. I’ll sleep in the guestroom.”
Grace felt such a strong flood of emotion for Tommy at that very moment that it almost choked her. He had a myriad of reasons to despise her. But he didn’t. To her continual surprise, he still cared about her. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said to him.
Tommy gave her that smile he seemed to only display in tender moments. It was a smile that didn’t show his charm as much as it showed his age. His experience. His fears. “You’re welcome,” he said. “But get you some rest before you try to tackle dinner. I’m going to take care of a little business in my office downstairs. Call me if you need anything at all.”
“I will. And thanks again.”
Tommy smiled again and then left, closing the door behind him.
Grace felt all kinds of emotions when that door closed. This was the room she shared with Tommy in marriage. This was the room he undoubtedly shared with many other women after their marriage. Including Liz, a woman she liked. But the oddest thing, as Grace walked around that big, grand bedroom, wasn’t the presence of some other woman, not even her own presence. It was all Tommy. She could sense Tommy in every corner of that room. She could even smell his cologne scent, his maleness. Him.
And the sensuality of it. Just looking at that bed alone reminded Grace of all kinds of sensual memories. Tommy was the best sexual partner she’d ever had before. Bar none. He would do things to her body that no man had ever done, or could ever do. The kind of expert handling that would make her want to holler with joy. One night, he ate her so hard and so long that it made him cum. She had never experienced such a thing in her entire life. Just giving her oral made him cum. Grace remembered how pleased she was by that. She remembered how pleased Tommy was.
Just thinking about Tommy’s big, naked body, and his huge cock inside of her, caused her vagina to tingle. And for a sense of shame to creep over her. He wasn’t hers anymore, what was she thinking? Living in the past, or dreaming about reigniting the past, was always risky and almost always fraught with failure. She quickly erased such thoughts from her mind.
Until she sat on the side of the bed, pleased to have a few moments of rest, and looked at the only picture in the room. It was a picture frame on his nightstand, and with a picture of Destiny smiling with her little black baby dolls. Grace picked up the frame and smiled too. Their daughter was so photogenic, she thought. But when she went to sit the frame back on the night stand, she could feel an unevenness beneath it. She realized she was sitting it in the wrong spot on the stand. Because of the size of the obstruction, it appeared to her to be somebody’s picture beneath the scarf. She expected to find a picture of Liz, or of one of his other ladies of whom he still had fond memories. Maybe the person would be naked. Maybe not. But Grace was too curious not to take a peep.
When she lifted the scarf and looked, she found a picture alright. But to her shock, it was a picture of her. Grace could hardly believe her eyes. She picked it up, and stared at it. It was taken during their marriage. She was standing in the backyard of this very house in a pair of overalls and a big straw hat. She had a trowel in her hand, smiling and waving at the camera. She remembered the picture. She remembered that Tommy took that picture. She had been planting a small flower garden out back and he walked up, with camera in hand, and snapped that photo. It was the least glamorous picture she’d ever taken. No makeup. No fancy clothes. Her hair was in a ponytail. But it was the picture he kept.
Grace covered her mouth as tears of sadness, of joy, and also of deep regret, appeared in her big, brown eyes.
But downstairs in his office, while Tommy was fielding various business calls, he had to deal with regret of a different kind. A call came in from Brandon Nash. They had him, he told Tommy.
“At the cabin?” Tommy asked.
“At the cabin. Under our control.”
“Keep him there until I get there,” Tommy ordered. “I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER NINE
Inside the cabin, Branson ended the call and looked at the two men with him. “Boss is on his way,” he said.
They looked at Ed as if unbridled fear would suddenly appear on his face. And Ed played the part. He showed his concern when, in truth, he wasn’t concerned at all. He was elated. He was inwardly smiling on word that Tommy was on his way. Ed wasn’t a neurosurgeon by accident. He had a brain. And he had already put that brain in action as soon as he left Grace’s house. When the great Tommy Gabrini showed up on his turf, in his woods, he could spring the very trap he had been planning and plotting and had already been set. Then he would win Grace back. And then all of that Gabrini fortune, thanks to the late Tommy Gabrini, would be under his total control.
Tommy thought he was coming to do Ed in. But Ed had a different thought. Tommy Gabrini, he thought with inward delight, was coming into those woods to do himself in!
He stood beside the fireplace inside the rustic cabin, leaned against the wall, and waited for the big man to show up. He purchased the place years before he ever met Grace, and he made certain she would never know the place existed. His plan was to hide out there. He knew Tommy would want to try and rough him up when he saw that bruise on Grace, but he also knew that Tommy was a busy man, with a gorgeous women all over the place. His ire would last just so long.
So Ed’s plan was to wait it out. Hide out in these woods, and wait it out. It was working like a charm. It had been two days since his fight with Grace, and until this intrusion by his men, he hadn’t heard a peep out of Tommy. No phone calls, no requests to meet up. Nothing. He hadn’t heard a peep out of Grace either, but that was expected. It was the first time he had hit her. It was going to take her longer than a couple days to get over that degree of violence.
Not that her ass didn’t deserve to be hit, Ed thought. She did. He wanted to lay her out a long time ago. She didn’t listen to him. She did everything her way as if she didn’t trust his judgment. She was a pain in the ass. But what he most feared about touching Grace came true: he was now on Tommy’s enemy list. His plan to rid the world of Tommy Gabrini had to happen sooner rather than later. He had to accelerate every plan, or, if he wasn’t careful, his larger plan would go up in smoke.
That was why he came to the woods. Because he was smart. Because he knew Tommy’s men would eventually find him here, and Tommy would be right in the trap he wanted him in.
And when the Land Rover drove up, and Tommy and his driver got out and walked inside, Ed knew he had to get this right. One bite at this apple, or it could be the last bite of his existence. He had to get this right!
Tommy had three men in the cabin, and all three were fully armed. His driver remained outside. And when Tommy walked in, Ed began the show.
“Tommy, finally,” Ed said. “Will you tell these men who I am? They refuse to let me leave. They’re holding me prisoner in my own home.”
Tommy didn’t respond to Ed. He walked over to the fireplace, and stood on the other side.
“Grace and I got into it,” he said. “If that’s what this is about. And yes it was a terrible mistake. It was the first time I ever raised my hand to her, and I promise you it’ll be the last time. That’s not who I am. I
would never hit a woman. It was a fluke thing. I snapped.”
“You snapped?” Tommy asked.
“That’s my diagnosis, yes,” Ed said. He didn’t give a shit if Tommy believed him or not. He was just playing for time. He was just getting Tommy, and his men, in the right position. “I believe, in that one moment, I snapped.”
“You know what I believe?” Tommy asked. “I believe you’re full of shit. I believe you wanted to slap her around for a long time. But the image of me slapping you around kept dancing in your head. And you think, by telling me you snapped, that’s going to save you?”
“I snapped! What’s the big damn deal?”
“Did you snap when you murdered Mike Dodson and Narly Fann?”
Ed was stunned. How in the world could he have known about that? Nobody knew about that! Did that mean he knew about his plans? Did that mean he knew what he was planning to do to him?
“Did you snap when those little old wealthy ladies were suddenly dying on your operating table? Are you going to snap, when I snap your ass in two?”
Ed panicked. There was no other word for it. He knew he had to act now or he was doomed forever. And he moved quickly. He reached on the side of the fireplace where he stood, as he was standing in that particular spot for a reason, and pressed the button. As soon as he did, the guns appeared on the back side of the cabin ceiling and began, according to his booby-trap, to fire at will.
Ed himself ducked down beside the fireplace, as the incoming had been directed to hit every spot but that one, and he had rigged them successfully. The bullets were sailing. The guns were firing on every cylinder. And Tommy and his men didn’t stand a chance. They weren’t able to fire a single shot his way, or save their own lives, because of all the incoming.
And when the firing stopped; when the rigged guns stopped blanketing that room with rounds and rounds of spent shells, Ed finally looked up. He could hear a pin drop because he knew everybody had to be dead. They had to be! Nobody could survive that much incoming.
But to his shock, Tommy and his men were still standing. All of them were staring at him. Ed’s heart dropped through his shoe. He couldn’t believe it! What in the world went wrong?
“Stand your ass up,” Tommy ordered.
Ed nervously stood up. He looked at the casings. They littered the room. But when he saw what they were, he was dumbstruck. What the hell? “Pellets?” he asked.
Branson Nash grinned. “Not even that. Fake-ass bullets.”
But Ed was lost. “But how could . . . why did you think to do something like that?”
“Because we have a boss who will never come at you the way you think he’ll come at you,” Branson said proudly. “Our boss told us to sweep this place when you left to be the good little doctor at your cute little medical practice. We did what we were told. And we found your little secret stash of trigger-happy guns. You rigged those weapons to harm us. We rigged them not to.” Then he frowned. “Who the fuck did you think you were dealing with? That’s Tommy Gabrini over there, you idiot. Backdoor Tommy. You aren’t going to outsmart a man like that!”
Ed looked at Tommy. He’d heard how he was supposedly smarter than the average thug. But Ed just saw him as a thug. Some pigs were smarter than other pigs too. But that didn’t make them smart.
“What is the smallest room in this cabin?” Tommy asked Ed.
“The what?”
“You heard him,” Branson said. “What’s the smallest room?”
Ed was completely thrown. “The bathroom,” he finally said, as confused as he was puzzled.
“Where?” Tommy asked.
“Back there,” Ed said, pointing.
“Lead the way.”
Ed didn’t know why Tommy would want him to lead the way into the bathroom, but he did as he was told. He walked, with Tommy and Branson following him, to the bathroom off from the living area.
Ed walked into the small bathroom, and Tommy followed him in. Branson was about to come too, but Tommy stopped him. “Just us two,” he said.
Branson understood immediately. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, and Tommy closed the door. Then Tommy turned around, facing Ed, and leaned against the door.
“Backdoor Tommy?” Ed asked. “That’s what they call you?”
Tommy continued to stare at Ed. The room was really a powder room, with a small toilet and small sink. Ed and Tommy were within five feet of each other.
“Is that what they call you?” Ed asked again. He needed to keep talking. He needed Tommy to understand his humanity. “Is that goon out there correct and they actually call you Backdoor Tommy?”
“Want to know what else they call me?”
Ed didn’t want to know. He was certain whatever it was wouldn’t bode well for him. But the longer he kept these fools talking, he felt, the longer he could stay alive. “Yeah, matter of fact,” he said. “What else do they call you?”
“The widow maker,” Tommy said, and knocked Ed so hard across his jaw that he fell backwards into the toilet.
Without saying a word, and while Ed was screaming for help, Tommy grabbed Ed out of that toilet by the catch of his suit coat, pulled him back up, and then rammed him into the wall. “You gave Grace a pretty good workover,” he said. They were so close there was no daylight between them. “You roughed her up pretty bad. Right in the bathroom. But I want you to do something for me,” Tommy added. “I want you to rough me up. I want you to work me over. I want you to do to me what you did to Grace.”
Tommy didn’t look the same up close, Ed thought. Where was his charm? Where was his easy manner? This guy looked fearless. This guy looked dangerous. “Please, Tommy,” was all Ed could think to say. The pain of that one hit was debilitating enough. Ed could barely stand. “I just want to be left alone,” Ed cried.
“Left alone?” Tommy asked. “You want to be left alone? I’m sure Grace wanted to be left alone too. I’m sure Narly and Mike wanted to be left alone. I’m sure my men would not have wanted to walk into this rat hole cabin and end up dead by some jimmy-rigged assault rifles! But you didn’t leave them alone. Now you want me to leave you alone? You want me to do to you what you didn’t do to them? I’ll leave you alone, alright.”
Tommy pulled Ed away from that wall with one hand and beat him down with the other hand. “Come on, now,” Tommy yelled as he beat him. “Hit me back, motherfucker. Hit me back! You knocked the shit out of Grace. Knock the shit out of me! You’re the one who wants me dead. You’re the one just booby-trapped this contraption of a cabin to murder me and my men. What’s a fist fight to you? Come on, Edwin. What’s a fist fight to you?”
“Please, Tommy,” Ed was crying. “Tommy, please!”
But Tommy showed no mercy. He threw Ed from one end of that bathroom to the other end, beating him, kicking him, grabbing his head and banging it against the sink until it began to split and the blood began to pour. Then he threw Ed toward the toilet. Ed fell down on it, but was already losing consciousness. By the time he leaned over, and then fell off of the toilet, he was dead.
Tommy just stood there, breathing heavily. He wished with all that was within him that it didn’t have to end up this way. But Ed started digging his grave when he laid his hands on Grace. And then he wanted Tommy dead. And tried to take out Tommy’s men. There was no other way, as far as Tommy was concerned, that it could have ended. No fucker alive could do what Ed did and expect anything less than what he just got. Tommy had no sympathy. Tommy had no regrets.
When the silence continued for longer than a half a minute, Branson and Tommy’s other men opened the door.
“You okay, boss?” Branson asked him before he saw the scene. Then he saw the scene. And when he saw the state of that bathroom, and especially the state of Ed Jefferson, he realized he had asked the wrong man that question.
He looked at Tommy. He had a reputation as the easiest Gabrini. As the lover not the fighter. But he knew better. He learned long ago not to listen to that bullshit. He’d heard long ago h
ow Tommy was a backroom bastard. How Tommy was the kind of man you never wanted to meet in an alley. And he’d seen Tommy do some alley-like things in the time he worked for him. Some crazy-ass shit. But he’d never seen him kill a man with his bare hands.
Branson looked at that bloody bathroom again, and at Ed on that bathroom floor. It was a horrific death, Branson felt, and he also felt that it could not have happened to a nicer guy.
By the time Tommy made it home, it was well past midnight. Not because he had been at Ed’s cabin all night. After the carnage, he left. His men knew what to do. But the carnage was the point for him. There was no way he could just go home to Destiny and Grace. He couldn’t explain to her what he had to do with blood still on his hands. He went to his brother Sal’s apartment.
In the heart of upscale Seattle, Sal owned a luxury apartment building. The top floor, the penthouse, was where Sal lived before he married Gemma and relocated to Vegas. Whenever Sal and Gemma were in town, or Reno or Trina, or whenever Tommy needed to use the place, it was available. Everybody who worked in that building knew the Gabrinis and also knew, because Sal had made it perfectly clear, that they were answerable to all of them.
The doorman eagerly let Tommy in. The desk manager eagerly escorted Tommy to the private elevator that would take him to the private residence. And once in the penthouse, Tommy jumped into the shower and bathe until his skin felt raw. And even after that, after nothing was coming off of his body because there was nothing left to come off, he leaned his hands against the shower wall, dropped his head, and felt that ache he felt after times like these. And he thought, not about Ed, but about Destiny and Grace.
Destiny liked Ed. Since he was her stepfather, Tommy and Grace saw that their relationship was solid. Tommy was certain Destiny would miss Ed. But since there was no way he was going to allow that man to spend another second around his daughter after what happened with Grace, she was going to miss him anyway. He was going to be out of their lives regardless of whether or not this night had ever occurred. He wasn’t worried so much about Destiny. But he was worried sick about Grace.
Tommy Gabrini: The Grace Factor Page 9
