Mob Boss Eleven- The Wrong One (The Mob Boss Series Book 11)

by Mallory Monroe

  “What’s going on?” Grace asked. “I want to know what’s wrong too.”

  Tommy escorted Grace to a chair in the room. She sat down. Trina looked at Reno. He squeezed her hand.

  Tommy looked at Grace. “One of the men involved in the shooting claimed that you were the mastermind.”

  Grace frowned. “The mastermind? Me?”

  “Grace?” Trina asked.

  “He said you were a threat,” Tommy continued.

  “I don’t understand,” Grace said. “A threat to what?”

  “To Trina,” Tommy said.

  It was Trina’s time to be stunned. “To me? Why would Grace be a threat to me?”

  “It’s bullshit,” Tommy said. “But it’s bullshit I have to disprove.”

  Grace shook her head. Her heart was pounding. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Do you know a guy name Joe Nathan?”

  Grace thought about it. “No. At least not by name.”

  Tommy handed her the folder he had in his hands.

  Grace began thumbing through the series of printed photographs. “Where did you get these?”

  “From surveillance cameras at Trammel. They faxed them over.”

  Grace looked at pictures of Joe Nathan in the lobby of Trammel Trucking, on the loading dock at Trammel, in the warehouse at Trammel. He was standing beside Grace in every picture. “He seems to have made a point of being filmed near me on numerous occasions.”

  “And you don’t recognize him?” Tommy asked.

  Grace looked through the photos again. “No. I mean, he obviously has some connection to Trammel, but I don’t know him.”

  “What about Mort Carson and Brendan Ashfordland?”

  Grace shook her head. “Who are they?”

  “The shooters you supposedly hired,” Tommy said.

  Grace couldn’t believe it. She looked at Tommy. “I don’t know these people. I don’t know any Mort Carson. I don’t know any Brendan Ashfordland. I don’t know this Joe Nathan.” She looked at the photos again. “And he’s the one who’s claiming that I’m a threat to Tree?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what kind of threat?” Grace asked.

  “He says you’re jealous of our marriage,” Reno said to Grace, “and because of it, you wanted Tree to suffer.”

  “He claims you hired those two hit men, Carson and Ashfordland, to do the job,” Tommy added.

  Grace frowned. “I hired them? He’s claiming I hired hit men?”

  “That’s what he claimed,” Tommy said.

  “But that’s ridiculous!” Grace proclaimed.

  “I’m saying,” Trina said. “Why would he think anybody would believe that nonsense?”

  Tommy moved toward Reno. “Let me see the video, Reno,” he said, and Reno pulled out his phone, pulled up the video on his phone, and handed it to Tommy.

  “Video of what?” Trina asked Reno.

  Reno hesitated as Tommy fast-forwarded the video.

  “Video of what, Reno?” Trina asked again.

  “Of the shooting,” Reno said.

  “Oh,” Trina said, and didn’t inquire about it any further.

  “There,” Tommy said, handing Grace the phone.

  “What?” Grace asked.

  “You ducked.”

  “I bent down. So?”

  “Joe Nathan, the guy in those photos, claimed that your bending down was the cue for them to start shooting.”

  Grace frowned. “I was bending down because I dropped my napkin. That was the only reason I did it!”

  Tommy and Reno both stared at her.

  “It was a coincidence,” Grace said. “I didn’t have anything to do with that shooting!”

  Tommy nodded. “I know. And I hate to have to even bring this up, but that prick left us no choice.”

  “What I don’t get,” Reno said, “is how would Nathan know that you bent down just before the shooting started? How would he know that?”

  Grace shook her head. “Why are you asking me that, Reno? I have no idea.”

  “It’s just adds to the craziness,” Reno said.

  “But who is this guy?” Trina asked. “Maybe he doesn’t work for Trammel. Maybe he was just hanging out there trying to get intel on Grace.”

  “Sal called Trammel,” Reno said. “They told Sal that he not only works there, but that he’s one of their most experienced truck drivers. So he not only works for Trammel, Grace, but he’s been employed there apparently for years.”

  “For two weeks,” Tommy said.

  Reno looked at him. “Two weeks?”

  “He’s been with Trammel for only two weeks.”

  “But that HR Director told Sal that he was their most experienced trucker.”

  “And he is. He’s a highly experienced truck driver. That’s why Trammel hired him without hesitation because of his years of experience. But he’s only been there for two weeks.”

  “Damn,” Reno said. “That changes the calculations.”

  “Right,” Tommy agreed.

  “Now we’ve got to go back, to two weeks ago, a month ago, and determine what happened. Who did we piss off to such an extent that it would make him suddenly turn from successful truck driver, to the man who’s trying to bring down Tommy Gabrini’s wife.” Then Reno squeezed Trina’s hand tighter. “Not to mention mine.”

  Tommy looked at his wife. The flustered look on her face killed him. “I’ll find out the truth, Grace. Joe Nathan was just trying to play head games with us. He figure if we fall for his lies, we’d let him live until we could check it all out. And by then he was hoping he could get away again. He figured we would have so much doubt that you’d be our target. That you’d be fucked. But he figured wrong. You will not be fucked.”

  “Except by you, hun, Tommy?” Reno said with a grin.

  It was a joke, but Tommy and Grace couldn’t bring themselves to laugh. It felt too true, on that personal, gut-wrenching level, to be funny.

  Then even Reno’s smile was gone, because he knew the Herculean task ahead of them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It seemed like a Mafia convention at an empty warehouse in Spring Valley, Nevada. All the relevant Dons were there, at Reno’s request, ten in all, but every one of them were singing the same song. The same I don’t know shit song. The one song Reno didn’t want to hear.

  They sat on crates in the musky space. Reno owned it for years but rarely used it. But it was secure and secluded. It forced egos to be checked at the door.

  “None of our people,” Cork Jusetti said for all of the Dons, “were involved in this, Reno. None. And you know why we weren’t involved? Because we aren’t crazy. We aren’t stupid. We’re not idiotic enough to try to ice Reno Gabrini’s wife. Only a fool would have tried that shit!”

  “And the pictures you showed us of those two shooters?” Cork continued. “We showed them to everybody. All the cops on our payroll. Everybody. But nobody had ever seen them before. And the names you gave us? Mort Carson and Brendan Ashfordland? We ran their names too. We never heard of them before. This is some serious shit, Reno. But not one of us is involved in this serious shit because we know it’s serious shit.”

  Reno was pacing. Tommy was leaned against the wall. Sal was sitting with the Dons. Reno forbade Jimmy to be anywhere near this meeting, mainly because he didn’t want any more Mafia taint on his son than he already had because of his Gabrini name. But also because his job was still to protect the home front until they resolved this matter. But even now, early in this meeting, it was already becoming apparent to Reno that nothing was going to get resolved here.

  “Nobody knows squat,” a New Jersey Don they all called Fathead, added. “We went around the horn with all of our people, Reno. As soon as it happened, we were on the blower. ‘You heard what happened to Trina Gabrini. You know anything about it?’ And every last one of our people said no. Are you nuts? Why would we do something like that? Gunning down your wife, and Tommy’s wife, like that?”<
br />
  “It’s not us, Reno,” Cork Jusetti echoed Fathead. “You’re looking in the wrong place. No family in our host of families would dream of doing what they did to Tree. That shit that happened in that nightclub sounds personal. They weren’t trying to take over territory. They weren’t trying to get your attention. They were trying to kill your wife. Pure and simple. And what would it profit any of us to pull some stunt like that?”

  Reno stopped pacing and looked at Cork. Of all the Dons present, or any others he ever had to deal with, he respected Cork the most. He didn’t trust him, since he didn’t trust any mob boss, but he respected him.

  “Look inside Reno, is my advice,” Cork said.

  “Inside?” Sal asked. “What the fuck does that mean, Cork? Inside what? The family?”

  “His own organization, yes,” Cork responded. “His own people. Specifically,” he added, “his people of the female persuasion.”

  Sal looked at Tommy.

  “What are you saying?” Reno asked Cork.

  “I’m saying what I see,” Cork responded. “I’m saying what all of us see. That hit on Trina had female written all over it. Excuse me for being a sexist or whatever they call us, but that hit was about emotion. It was about rage. It had all the earmarks of a woman, what do they call it, scorned. A woman scorned. Yeah.”

  Reno and Sal looked at Tommy. But Tommy didn’t blink. A woman might have been behind that hit, just as Cork said. But that woman, Tommy was certain, wasn’t Grace.

  But after the meeting, as the three Gabrini men piled into the Bentley and made their way back to Vegas, they reached a conclusion.

  “It’s a startling truth,” Sal said from the backseat. Reno was driving and Tommy was on the passenger seat.

  Reno looked through the rearview mirror at Sal. “What’s a startling truth?” he asked.

  “If Cork is right, and a woman is behind it all, and that woman happens to be one of our ex-lovers, then we’re doomed. The number of females we would have to eliminate would be staggering. Especially for Tommy.”

  But even Tommy had to agree with that. “Staggering is right,” he said.

  “But don’t concentrate on that old shit,” Reno reminded them. “Remember Joe Nathan. He went to work at Trammel two weeks ago for a reason. Fuck coincidence because there’s no such thing. He went to work there for his alibi.”

  “His alibi?” Tommy asked.

  “In case we tracked him down. You called it, Tommy. Because I agree with you. I think Nathan figured he would name Grace and throw us all so completely that he would somehow get away.”

  “Yeah,” Sal said. “It’s possible. Especially if he only knows you and me as the head of the Gabrini Corporation in Seattle, and he only knows Reno as the owner of the PaLargio in Vegas. We’re just busy businessmen. Maybe he thought he could really outsmart us and outmaneuver us and get away with any shit he wanted to get away with us.”

  Tommy nodded. “Because he wouldn’t know who he’s really dealing with.”

  “Right,” Sal said.

  “Which brings us back to Cork’s point,” Reno said. “What female did we piss off in the last few weeks?”

  Neither Tommy nor Sal could think of any one. At least not anyone who wouldn’t know who she was dealing with.

  Reno had the same problem. There were women he’d pissed off recently. Plenty of them undoubtedly. But then one did come to mind. One that suddenly appeared out of the blue. One that always, but always underestimated him.

  He made U-turn so suddenly that Sal and Tommy had to hold on.

  “What the fuck, Reno!” Sal yelled.

  “I have a possibility,” Reno said. “It’s a long shot. It’s a hellava long shot. But there are no usual suspects. And when that’s the case, we’ve got to go with the unusual.” Then Reno phoned his pilot, who was on standby anyway, to ready the plane. He was about to phone Jimmy, who had to hold it down until they got back, and Tree, who he didn’t want to worry. But Tommy interrupted him.

  “And where is this unusual suspect?” he asked him.

  “In Reno,” Reno said. “Reno, Nevada. So buckle your seatbelts, gentlemen. Reno is going to Reno!”

  Sal rolled his eyes. But he buckled his seatbelt all the same.

  They sat in the parlor of her stately mansion. Faye Greenwood was stylish if she was nothing else, and her home, in the heart of Reno, Nevada’s Caughlin Ranch district, proved it.

  And when she entered the parlor, sweeping in and looking gorgeous, both Tommy and Sal understood why this particular woman had once caught Reno’s attention.

  “Oh my,” she said as soon as she entered the room. All three men stood up. “Not one, not two, but three attractive men to see me? Who are your friends, Reno? Introduce us, please.”

  “These are my cousins, Thomas and Salvatore. Tommy, Sal, this is Faye Greenwood.”

  “Thomas and Salvatore,” Faye said as she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  She looked at Sal, and was pleased by the sight, but she stared at Tommy and was transfixed.

  “And how’s your husband?” Reno asked her.

  She finally looked at him. “He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Haven’t hired a hit man yet?”

  “Very funny,” she said. “No, I have not. I’m not stupid you know. I was just joking with you.”

  “Yeah, right, Reno said. “Just remember what I said.”

  “Is that why you came all this way, Reno? To make sure I didn’t kill my husband?”

  “Somebody tried to kill my wife,” Reno said bluntly. “Tell me what you know about it.”

  Faye was offended. “Tell you what I know? Why would I know anything about some attempted murder?”

  “No bullshit, Faye.”

  “Why would I lie to you, Reno? I don’t know anything about it! I heard about it. Who hasn’t? But that’s it.” She looked him up and down. “The nerve you have,” she said. “You broke my heart, not the other way around. You made it perfectly clear whom you preferred. And that’s fine. It hurt, I’ll admit it, but I’m over it already. Geez. I’m not desperate by any stretch of the imagination. It’s an impossibility.”

  And she continued, explaining to them just how impossible it was. Reno felt like crap. They were getting nowhere. They were learning nothing. They were wasting too much time!

  As they left Faye’s estate and drove through the casino district in Reno on their way back to the airstrip, Reno sat quietly in the limo. Both Tommy and Sal could feel his frustration.

  “Why would you think she could be involved?” Tommy asked him. “That woman has one thing---”

  “And one thing only,” Sal added.

  “On her mind,” Tommy finished. “Why her? What happened that put her on your radar?”

  “She showed up out of the blue,” Reno said. “And I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “What did she want?”

  “She wanted me to kill her husband.”

  Tommy shook his head. Sal laughed.

  “When did she show up?” Tommy asked.

  “A few days ago. At the office. I hadn’t seen that woman in years. And I mean years. Then out of the blue, she pops up. Trina and I were discussing the PaLargio South, and how I’ve decided to purchase that property in Georgia. Tree said that . . .”

  It clicked. Reno remembered. It suddenly clicked! “Tree said . . .”

  “What?” Sal asked.

  “What did Trina say?” Tommy asked.

  Reno looked at them. “I’ll be gotdamn,” he said. He quickly pulled out his phone, flipped violently fast through a series of photos, until he found the one he was searching for.

  “Reno, are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Tommy asked him.

  Reno quickly phoned his security chief, asked him to find out who owned the Bed and Breakfast across the street from the property he was planning to purchase in Georgia.

  “I’m on it, boss,” his chief said, and Reno ended t
he call. Then he looked at Tommy and Sal.

  “I want to be sure first,” he said.

  “Another long shot like Faye Greenwood?” Sal asked doubtfully.

  “Depends,” Reno said.

  “What the fuck you mean it depends?” Sal asked angrily. “Is it a long shot or not, Reno? We can’t keep going on these wild goose chases like this. I feel like I’m chasing my tail!”

  Reno pulled up the photo in question again, and handed his phone to Tommy. Sal looked over Tommy’s shoulder as they reviewed the photo. All they saw was a shot of Reno standing in the middle of the property in Georgia he planned to purchase. And the busy street behind him. They looked at Reno.

  “We don’t get it,” Tommy said.

  “It’s a picture of you standing in the middle of a pile of dirt,” Sal said. “So what?”

  “Look behind me,” Reno said, and Tommy and Sal looked again at the photo. “See that guy?” Reno asked.

  “What guy?” Sal asked, and then he squinted and saw him on the photo. Tommy did too. The guy was across the street, at the Bed and Breakfast, standing in the doorway.

  “Wait a minute,” Sal said, looking closer. “Is that . . . I’ll be gotdamn! Is that Joe motherfucking Nathan?”

  “That’s him,” Tommy said, nodding his head. “That’s him.”

  Then Reno’s cell phone rang. He took it from Tommy and answered it. Tommy and Sal waited. When Reno ended the call, they were staring at him.

  “The owners of that B & B across the street from the future site of the PaLargio South are Joseph and Sylvia Nathan.” Reno looked at them. “Joe Nathan,” he said. “The night I saw Faye again, Trina had said that the B & B was going to be my competition. But I didn’t give it a second thought. I had my sights on what I thought were my real competitors for that middle class market: Courtyard Marriott and Hilton Garden Inn.”

  “So he was afraid that you would run him out of business?”

  “Maybe. We’ll just have to see.”

  “We’ll see? What does that mean?”

  “We’re going back to Vegas. By way of Georgia.”

  Sal shook his head. “Georgia,” he said. “I can hardly wait.”