RENO GABRINI 15
I’M LOSING YOU
BY
MALLORY MONROE
Copyright©2016 Mallory Monroe
All rights reserved. Any use of the materials contained in this book without the expressed written consent of the author and/or her affiliates, including scanning, uploading and downloading at file sharing and other sites, and distribution of this book by way of the Internet or any other means, is illegal and strictly prohibited.
AUSTIN BROOK PUBLISHING
IT IS ILLEGAL TO UPLOAD THIS BOOK TO ANY FILE SHARING SITE.
IT IS ILLEGAL TO DOWNLOAD THIS BOOK FROM ANY FILE SHARING SITE.
IT IS ILLEGAL TO SELL OR GIVE THIS eBOOK TO ANYBODY ELSE
WITHOUT THE WRITTEN CONSENT OF
THE AUTHOR AND AUSTIN BROOK PUBLISHING.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are completely accidental. The specific mention of known places or venues are not meant to be exact replicas of those places, but are purposely embellished or imagined for the story’s sake.
VISIT
www.mallorymonroebooks.com
OR
www.austinbrookpublishing.com
for more information on all titles.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
“Police! Open up!”
No response. He knocked again.
“Police! Open up!”
Still no response.
He nodded to the maid. The maid nervously unlocked the door and just as nervously hurried away. The Sergeant, with two additional officers, entered the hotel suite.
In the front of the suite, they saw no one and nothing was out of order. They began to wonder if the anonymous call had been a prank. It was South Beach after all, and Spring Break. They were accustomed to college kids pulling this shit. But then they entered the bedroom. As soon as they did, and saw what they saw, all three drew their weapons and assumed a defensive posture.
“Hands up! Put your hands up!”
They saw blood, first of all, smeared on the bed posts. And then they saw a woman in bed, lifting her head as if she was just waking up. To their suspicious eyes she had just jumped into that bed, after hearing their knocks.
“Put your hands up, lady!”
But her brain couldn’t compute that fast. She saw three men, all three in police uniforms, coming toward her with guns drawn. But she couldn’t understand why.
“Put your hands up!” the sergeant yelled even louder. “I’m not telling you again, lady! Put’em up!”
Her hands felt like lead, and she felt too weak to lift them, but she lifted them. She sat up in bed and put her hands up. The sergeant’s weapon was trained on her. She might have been behaving as if she was some innocent, but he wasn’t taking any chances. His two underlings holstered their weapons, grabbed her by her arms, and flung her out of bed.
She nearly stumbled and fell, they flung her so hard, but she was able to regain her balance. Her heart was hammering. What in the world was going on?
The sergeant with the booming voice ordered the two cops to search the room. The two split up and began their search. But it didn’t take long for the discovery to be made.
“Sarge!” one of them yelled within seconds of the search, and his boss walked sideways, still pointing his gun at Trina, as he moved to the far side of the bed where the cop was standing. When he saw the dead body, lying on the carpet covered in blood too, the already tense mood changed.
But then there was another yell. “Sarge!”
“Watch her,” he ordered the cop standing with him. The cop un-holstered his gun and aimed it at their suspect.
The sergeant hurried to the opposite side of the room, into the en-suite. And in that bathroom were two bodies. Both butchered. Both piled in the tub like wet clothes. This time when the sergeant began walking back toward the suspect, his look was even more menacing. He aimed his gun even more squarely at her. “Some party you had yourself here, lady,” he said.
She kept her hands up, and kept her eyes on the Sergeant, as she stood beside the bed. The bathrobe she wore was covered in red. Then she wondered why had she been sleeping in a bathrobe to begin with? She remembered putting it on earlier that evening, after hearing a commotion . . .
But while she was focused on her wardrobe, the cops were focused on something else entirely. Because the sergeant saw the knife. In the same bed they found her lying in. And it was blood-soaked too. He quickly hurried over, pulled the covers off of the bed, so they could get a better look.
The officer in the bathroom came out too, and the sergeant ordered him and the second cop to glove up. “And then cuff and frisk her ass.”
The officers pulled latex gloves out of their pockets, and began putting them on.
The sergeant stared at the woman. She looked as if she could faint where she stood. But she looked faintly familiar to him. “Who are you?” he asked as his officers began cuffing and frisking her. “What’s your name?”
“What is this about?” she asked him.
“What is your name?”
“It’s Tree. I mean Trina.” Then she shook her head. “Katrina.”
The sergeant frowned. “Which is it, lady?”
“Katrina.”
“She’s clean, Sarge,” the cop announced after frisking her.
The sergeant was still staring at her. “Katrina what?” he asked her.
She was still disoriented enough, but not so thrown that she didn’t have her sense of self. “Gabrini,” she said.
The cops handling her looked at each other in amazement. Even in Florida, they knew that name. But then they both smiled and dismissed her. She was full of it, they decided.
But the sergeant wasn’t so easily convinced she was lying. She was black. Gorgeous. Had that look of entitlement about her. It was possible. “Are you a Gabrini Gabrini?” he asked her. “Or are you bullshitting us?”
“What happened?” Trina asked him. “What did you find on the other side of this bed? And in the bathroom? Will you please tell me what’s happening?”
But the sergeant would not cooperate. “Answer my question,” he ordered. “How about that?”
“I’m covered in blood and you wanna know my name?”
“Are you a Gabrini Gabrini?”
She batted her eyes. She was fed up with this joker. “Yes,” she said with great frustration in her voice.
“Which one you belong to?” He heard they all had a thing for black chicks, but especially the one in Seattle. “Tommy Gabrini?”
“No.” She was exhausted as hell.
“Then which one?”
She found this line of conversation useless. But she knew she had to answer his question to get an answer to
her own. “My husband is Reno Gabrini,” she said.
As soon as she said that name, the other two officers suddenly removed their gloved hands off of her, and looked at their sergeant. If she was for real, they knew they were in trouble. None of them wanted to tangle with any of those powerful and deadly Gabrinis. And in law enforcement, it didn’t get more powerful than Reno Gabrini.
“Now will you answer my question?” Trina asked the sergeant. “Will you please tell me why you’re arresting me?”
The sergeant wished he had never took this call. “Murder,” he said to her. “You’re under arrest for triple homicide, Mrs. Gabrini.”
And Trina’s heart, which had been hammering ever since she was awaken, suddenly went still.
CHAPTER ONE
Five Weeks Earlier
The alarm clock on her nightstand did its early morning job as the sound of chirping birds suddenly filled the room. Trina Gabrini woke up with a start, as she was still unaccustomed to that particular sound, and then reached over and felt around the nightstand until she was able to press the button. The chirping stopped. When she turned her head, toward the opposite side of the bed, and saw that Reno hadn’t been home, she wasn’t at all surprised. Used to be a time he would rarely stay out all night. Lately it was rare to find him home most nights. Trina got on his case about it. They argued. Nothing changed.
She sat up, on the edge of the bed, and pushed her hair back with her hands. She could see herself in the dresser mirror, and she smiled. Looked like the wild child of Vegas. You rock, Trina, she thought sarcastically. Yeah, right, she thought again. And headed for the bathroom.
After peeing and washing her hands, and then brushing her teeth and gargling, she put on a bathrobe and headed downstairs. To get her children out of bed.
Sophia was already up. Playing on the floor with her baby dolls.
“Hey, baby,” Trina said with a smile.
“Hey, Mommy.” Sophia was always smiling.
“Time to get ready for school. Put your dolls away,” she added, as she headed to Sophia’s bathroom.
“I wish to wear my princess dress today,” Sophia said as she began rising. “May I, Mommy?”
“That’s a costume, baby,” Trina said as she began filling the tub with water. “That’s not appropriate for school. I’ll get you out something nice to wear.”
“Will it be a dress?”
“Maybe.”
“But I wanna wear a dress!”
“We’ll see, Sophie, now come on. I don’t have all day. Let’s make a start.”
It was Sophia’s way to hem and haw, but she ultimately did as she was told.
And Trina, after getting Sophia in the tub, headed for Dominic’s room, to wake him up.
Like most mornings, Dommi, lying on his stomach with his ass in the air, was sound asleep. Looking more and more like Reno every single day, Trina thought. But it would take several get up, boy battle cries to get that boy up.
After making sure Dommi was in his tub, and after answering all of his questions about why he had to take a bath every day in the first place, Trina headed back to Sophia. After helping her bathe, and helping her dress (in a dress), she sat on the edge of the bed, with Sophie between her legs, and brushed her long, thick, wavy hair.
Both of her children were biracial, with Sophia having more obvious African-American features, and Dommi less so, but their mixed heritage was obvious to anyone who saw them. When they were little babies, Trina used to wonder if they would be accepted into either world. Now she knew it didn’t matter. Both had strong personalities. Both would make their place in this world, regardless of who didn’t want them to. It was then, as she brushed Sophia’s hair, as she thought about her children’s future, did Reno decide to show up.
Trina barely wanted to say two words to him when he walked into Sophia’s room as if it was no big deal that he’d been out all night. He smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, which was what a casino smelled of, and his suit was wrinkled and well-worn, as he approached.
When Sophia saw him, she cried happily. “Daddy!” She opened her arms like the sweetheart she was.
“Hey, Princess!” Reno responded, as he knelt down, gave her a kiss and a tickle, and then stood back upright.
He knew Trina was pissed with him. She always was when he didn’t come home. But he was too tired to argue. “Hey, babe,” he said to her.
“Hey.” Trina continued to brush Sophia’s hair.
“Where’s Dominic?” Reno asked.
“Still in the tub,” Sophia said. “But he doesn’t bathe like I do, Daddy. He plays.”
“I’ll see about that,” Reno said, and then looked at Trina again. He leaned down to kiss her.
It wasn’t lost on him when she turned her cheek to him instead of allowing him the pleasure of kissing her on her gorgeous mouth. But Reno was as stubborn as her ass was. He turned her chin toward his face, and kissed her, hard, on the mouth anyway. Then he frowned. “What the fuck is your problem?” he asked her.
Trina stopped brushing and looked at him. She couldn’t believe he’d come at her like that. Not after what his ass did. “What the fuck is yours?” she asked back, with equal venom.
They both were upset that they used that language in front of Sophia, but the children were used to it. And Reno was still too tired to argue. He waved his hands, as if dismissing it all, and left the room.
Trina felt all kinds of emotions trying to push up and overtake her, but she held on. And continued to finish Sophia’s unruly hair.
“You’re okay, Mommy?” Sophia asked her.
Trina managed a smile through her pain. “Yes, baby,” she said. “Mommy’s just fine.”
And she continued to hold on as she got both children ready for school and at the kitchen island eating their breakfast. By the time she headed upstairs, she wanted answers from Reno. But none would be forthcoming. He was lying across the bed, and he was sleeping, and snoring, like it was nobody’s business.
Trina wanted to wake his ass and have it out with him, but she had promises to keep too. She had to shower and dress, get the children to school, and get herself to work.
“Trina! Over here!”
Gemma Jones-Gabrini was waving Trina over when Trina entered the crowded restaurant. It was lunchtime. Gemma, an attorney, had to be back in court by two. But because she was also Trina’s partner in Champagne’s, a high-end clothing store, they thought it would be a good idea to meet for lunch and discuss strategy.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in this one,” Trina said with a smile as she slid onto the booth seat.
“It’s nice, right?” Gemma put her phone away. “It’s only like my third time coming here myself. But I figure it was close enough to the courthouse, and not too far from Champagne’s, that we could split the difference.”
“Good call,” Trina said.
The waitress came and took Trina’s drink order, as Gemma already had hers, and then she leaned back.
“Busy today?” Gemma asked.
“Very busy. Which is great,” Trina added, with a chuckle. “But yeah, there’s a lot going on.”
“I’ve got some good news.”
“I can use some. What?”
Gemma smiled. “I’ve got a firm yes, and a possibility. The firm yes I’m going to meet with later this week. The possibility you will meet with because you are far more persuasive than I am.”
Trina laughed. “Sure, buddy. Give Katrina the heavy lift every time. But who cares. Two more? That’s great news, Gem!”
“The thing is,” Gemma said, “the possibility can’t come to Vegas. And he’s not sure if he can make the east coast conference in Florida next month. But he will be in Kingman, Arizona tomorrow morning. And get this, Tree: he’s rich. I looked him up. He wants in big.”
“Big in what way?” Trina asked.
“Big in the sense that he may want to own more franchises than we plan to open.”
Trina was astounded. “Are y
ou serious? Who is this guy?”
“His name is Garry Marshall. A venture capitalist. He’s interested. But he said he only goes big when he goes.”
“And that’s what we really want,” Trina said.
“Yes!” Gemma said, excited too. “That’s what I told him. If we can get the fifty on board we have targeted, and then he comes along and adds fifty more, or even more than that, can you imagine what that could mean for Champagne’s? We’ll become a household name!”
Trina knew it too. “But what I don’t understand is why you wouldn’t want to meet with him? You’re an attorney. He may want more legalistic info than what I can provide.”
“I agree,” Gemma said, “but he asked for you specifically.”
Trina frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“The same reason most of our franchisees ask for you. They know you’re married to Reno Gabrini, the owner of the PaLargio Hotel and Casino. Hello? They figure you would have far more business sense than I do, which is correct, and they figure some of that PaLargio magic might just rub off on their new venture too.”
Trina smiled. “That is so insane. But whatever the reason, I’m in.”
They both laughed and high-fived.
“Oh,” Gemma said as she reached into her bag. “I almost forgot again.” She pulled out a narrow, gift-wrapped box and handed it to Trina. “Happy birthday three weeks late,” she said.
Trina held the box and smiled. But even Gemma knew the difference. She leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Tree? I know I forgot your birthday, and I’m sorry for that. But it’s not that bad. Is it?”
“No. Of course not. It’s a good thing. Other than my parents calling and wishing me a happy birthday, and Jimmy calling and wishing me the same, nobody else remembered.”
Gemma frowned. “What do you mean? Reno didn’t?”
“Not this year. He does every year. I’ll give him that.” Then a sadness appeared in Trina’s eyes. “Just not this year.”
Gemma exhaled. “Sometimes it happens,” she said in an attempt to comfort. “You know how busy those Gabrinis can be.”
Trina looked at Gemma. “Sal ever forget your birthday?” she asked.
Reno Gabrini: I'm Losing You Page 1
