Mick Sinatra: Ice Cold Love

by Mallory Monroe

  “Oh now he wants to wax philosophically,” said Teddy, and everybody laughed.

  “And you’re wrong, Jimmy Mack,” said Tony. “It’s not a bad thing that Cousin Teddy wants to wait. Because his reasoning is a good thing. It’s not easy being in the Sinatra family. The Gabrini family, for that matter, either. He wants his beloved to be sure. I think it’s admirable.”

  But Amelia was shaking her head. “Just hurry y’all asses up,” she said to Teddy and Nikki. “My brother wants grandchildren.”

  But Mick took quick exception to his sister’s declaration. “Like hell I do,” he said, and everybody laughed.

  Big Daddy was still laughing. “My kid brother a grandfather? That I’ve got to see! He sees himself as much too young and virile to be somebody’s grandfather.”

  “I know that’s right,” said Mick, as the laughter continued.

  Roz came into the dining hall just as the laughter was at its peak. “What’s so funny?” she asked to anyone who would answer.

  “Your husband doesn’t want to be a grandfather,” said Tony.

  “Big Daddy says he’s too young,” said Jimmy.

  “I’m a grandfather,” Reno said to Mick, “and I’m younger than your ass.”

  “But he can kick your ass,” said Roz, and everybody laughed again.

  But Mick was over the gaiety already. He knew what was ahead of him, and there would be no fun and games in that space. And the only person on the face of this earth who understood his mindset almost as well as he understood it himself, was Rosalyn.

  He needed Roz.

  That was why, when she looked his way, he gave her that slight nod that let her know that he needed her. And then he got up from the table, as more jokes were being told, and made his way upstairs.

  “How’s Glo and Joey?” Sal asked Roz when Mick stood up.

  “They’re both fine. Resting comfortably.”

  “I think their recovery will go faster here than at that stale hospital.”

  “So do I,” said Tommy. “Especially Gloria. Joey’s recovery will take a lot of time no matter what.”

  “And that entire hospital staff will be right here,” said Roz, “until he’s fully recovered.”

  “But Joey in a wheelchair,” said Ashley, Big Daddy’s adopted daughter. “I just don’t see it!”

  “Then pray it doesn’t happen,” said Tony. “Prayer changes things.”

  “Preach!” said Bobby and Tony gave him a serious side-eye that caused laughter too.

  “Excuse me, guys, before he cut me down to size too,” Roz said with a smile as she began making her way out of the dining hall.

  She climbed the stairs to her and Mick’s private wing where their bedroom was housed. When she entered the bedroom and saw Mick unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning and zipping down his pants, she closed and locked the door. And began undressing too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Mick removed every stitch of clothing he wore, turned down the bedding, and got in bed first. He and Roz both had showered earlier, but at different times, and this was their first opportunity, since returning home, to be alone. Roz, her clothes removed, too, got in bed beside him.

  Lying face to face, Mick pulled her as close to him as he possibly could and wrapped his big arms around her. He moved one hand down, and cupped her ass. But he needed to talk to her first.

  “I’ve got to right this wrong,” he said to her. “You do realize that?”

  Roz hated to hear it, but she already knew. “Yes,” she said. “I knew it would come to that eventually.”

  “If I ever let an attack on my children stand, then I would be participating in their doom. I cannot let it stand.”

  “What will you do? Harm their children?”

  “Tit for tat? Like that?” Mick asked.

  “Yeah,” said Roz. “Like that.”

  “Hell no,” said Mick. “I don’t tit for tat. They tit me, I’m going to kill them. There’s no other way I operate. There’s no other way I can protect my family from other assassins who think I will allow that behavior.”

  Roz understood fully what Mick meant. She wrapped him tighter into her own arms. “You’ll protect us, Mick,” she said. “And kill those motherfuckers too.”

  Mick smiled, and then laughed. He looked at her. “What were the chances that I would find the absolute perfect woman for me?”

  “A million to one,” Roz said.

  “A zillion,” said Mick, and his smile left.

  Roz felt his sudden heaviness and looked at him. “What is it?” she asked. “Worried how wrong it could go?”

  “Always,” Mick said.

  “If always, then what are you worried about now?”

  Mick exhaled. “Joey,” he said.

  Roz stared at him. “You told him he would walk again.”

  “That’s right.”

  “The doctor said he probably won’t walk again.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Think it was a good idea to tell him that?”

  “I know it was a good idea,” Mick said.

  “You know it? Why?”

  “It gives him hope, Rosalyn. He’ll work his ass off to walk again. If it’s already a foregone conclusion, I know my boy. His ass won’t do a damn thing. He’ll give up. That’s not going to happen,” Mick said and then moved his mouth to her mouth and kissed her with a hard, agonizing kiss.

  Roz knew it wasn’t passion that made him do that. It was pain. Mick was in pain, and whenever he was, he was rough. So she let him kiss her roughly. Because she knew, given time, he’d change.

  It happened sooner than she expected. Mick’s rough kissing began to ease up, and his kissing became more passionate than rough. And soon he was kissing her with such a gentleness that it made her fall in love with him all over again.

  He fingered her as he kissed her, getting her so wet she couldn’t wait for him to make his move. She took his penis and eased it inside of her. She made the move.

  Mick was so thrilled to have a take-charge woman like Roz that he rolled onto his back and rolled her on top of him as he did. And allowed Roz to ride his rod as long and as hard as she could.

  And she rode him. She rode him so good that Mick laid flat, with his arms spread out across the bed, and enjoyed every second of the ride. His mind was tired. His mood was heavy. But Roz released so much tension in his body that he was beginning to feel like his old self again. His children were at home where they belonged, and although they had a long road to recovery ahead of them, especially Joey, they were safe. His family was with him. And Rosalyn was his icing on the cake. She was why he got out of bed every morning.

  Roz was sitting up tall as she rode his rod. He was so big and so stiff that she could feel every inch of him every time she moved her vagina all the way down his rod to his balls. She was taking him in full. Repeatedly. It stung, because he was so big, but it felt wonderful too.

  So wonderful that she began to break. Especially when Mick began massaging her breasts. That feeling, coupled with his dick so deep inside of her, made her cum. She couldn’t stop herself she came with a long, enduring cum.

  Mick watched as her eyes became heavy-lidded and tongue licked her bottom lip. She was cumming so completely that she could hardly handle the sensations. She laid her head on his shoulder, unable to bear it at all.

  And Mick took over. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and began stroking her with faster, more penetrable strokes. He was hitting her spot all over again. Which only heightened her already intense cum.

  “Oh, Mick!” she cried out. It was more than she could bear.

  But her cry took Mick over too. But he needed direct access.

  While still inside of her, he rolled Roz off of him and onto her back, putting his body now on top of hers, and he poured into her, fucking her harder and harder.

  Roz was still cumming when Mick came, too, and his faster strokes caused her to squeeze his shoulders as the intensity grew even more
and the sensations overwhelmed her even more. And together they held onto each other and let the feelings roll.

  Until they were drained.

  And then they held onto each other, and fell asleep.

  Later that night, while Roz was still asleep in his arms and seemingly the whole house was asleep except for the medical staff, Mick eased out of bed, went into his room-sized walk-in closet, and suited up. He put on his black trousers, his black turtleneck, and one of his numerous long, white, utility trench coats. He was fully loaded with weapons and purpose. He was going to go after the men who worked for the three dead dons before they had a chance to come after his family. And he was going to get it done, he hoped, before Roz woke up that next morning.

  But when he eased his way out of the bedroom and down a private backstairs that led to his garage, he was shocked when he saw Tommy Gabrini, looking his usual dapper self with his arms folded and his legs crossed at the ankle, leaned against one of Mick’s cars: his Porsche.

  But all Mick saw was an intrusion. “How did you get in my garage?” he asked him sharply.

  “That’s my business,” said Tommy.

  “Then get your ass out of here and handle your business,” Mick said.

  Dapper Tom stared at his uncle, the one man he feared most in this world. “You’re my business tonight,” he said.

  Mick was a little irritated, but pleased, too, because it was Tommy. Of all of his relatives, he was closest to Tommy. “How did you figure out what I planned to do?” he asked him.

  “Because I know your ass, Uncle Mick,” Tommy said with a charming smile.

  Unlike Tommy’s, Mick’s smile barely registered, although Tommy caught it. Then Mick looked beyond Tommy, and looked at his Porsche. “How did you know what car I’d use?” he asked him.

  “Your Escalade was shot up in that ambush,” Sal said. “And shot up by your own ass, from what I was told. And since you’re doing a solo job tonight, I figured you wanted something small and fast. You want to get in and out quickly. Of all of these cars in this gotdamn car museum of a garage you have here, I figured the Porsche would be the one.”

  Mick admired Tommy’s ability to reason. He was the best in the family at it. But Mick was and would always be a one-man band. “I have to handle the dons’ men alone,” he said.

  “I know you do. Because you’re the don of the dons. My brother’s a don, too, remember? I know how that shit goes. I’m going with you.”

  Mick still didn’t like it. He planned to run this mission solo. But it would take too much energy to turn a stubborn ass like Tommy around.

  They got into Mick’s Porsche, and took off to Don Aronzo’s compound.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  What Mick thought was going to be the hard part - penetrating Aronzo’s compound, was the easy part. Because it had already been penetrated. The security gate had been knocked down. His front gate men were dead. Bodies were all over the lawn. It was a massacre.

  “What in the world happened here?” Tommy asked as Mick drove through the gate and onto the compound and up to the main house. But even up there: more carnage. More of Don Aronzo’s men had been shot and killed.

  “Who would have hit them before you?” Tommy asked. Then he looked at Mick. “The Russians?”

  Mick didn’t respond. He kept his own counsel.

  They got out of the Porsche, their guns drawn, and made their way inside of the main house. And it only got worse inside. More dead bodies. More carnage. Upstairs? Even more. The entire Aronzo family. And not just his capos either. His wife. His daughters. His son. Nobody was spared. Tommy could hardly believe it.

  But while Tommy was looking at the pile of bodies, Mick was looking at the trail. He was looking at the condition of the room. He was looking at the patterns.

  Then he began leaving the upstairs.

  “Where are you going, Unc?” Tommy asked him.

  “I’m leaving,” said Mick.

  “Leaving?” Tommy asked. They hadn’t established anything! But he knew who was running that show. He followed Mick out, and they got back into the Porsche and left.

  Tommy wondered where they were heading next, but he didn’t have to wonder long. They headed straight for Don Peshi’s house. Although nowhere near as grand as Don Aronzo’s, it was still a compound to be reckoned with. And just like Aronzo’s place, Peshi’s had already been visited too.

  “Another hit?” Tommy asked, although he was looking at the dead bodies, at the carnage, himself.

  “Looks like,” said Mick as he pulled up to the main house and unbuckled his seat belt.

  “Why are you bothering to go in?” Tommy asked. “The Russians already took care of Peshi’s crew too.”

  But Mick got out, anyway, and went inside. And just as he did at Don Aronzo’s house, he did the same at Don Peshi’s. He went through the entire house. And just as had been done to Aronzo, nobody was spared. It was another massacre.

  “Those fuckers mean business,” Tommy said as they made their walk through. But this time, he noticed his uncle’s distraction. He wasn’t even looking at the bodies. He was looking at the trail of blood, the overturned furniture. Minor things, at least Tommy thought. And then Mick was off again to his final destination that night: the home of his old nemesis, Don Corello.

  Everything was the same at his place, too. While Mick was at home thinking about extracting his revenge, somebody else was hitting the other two dons and Don Corello’s crew, and they hit Corello hard. The hardest, Mick decided, in comparison.

  But as he and Tommy stood in the middle of the upstairs master bedroom, Tommy suddenly felt a presence there. He wanted to look at Mick, but he could tell Mick felt it, too, because Mick began talking about the scene. He hadn’t at any other stop. He was talking up a storm at this stop.

  “Who would have done such a thing?” Mick said.

  It was stilted conversation. Mick did not have the gift of gab. But it was the sign Tommy needed, and he was asking questions too.

  Until Mick gave his head the slightest of nods. But it was enough for Tommy. Both men, simultaneously, dropped to the ground and rolled in the opposite direction from each other. And as soon as they did, their suspicion was confirmed. Bullets rang out, toward them. But every one missed as they both rolled onto their backs and began firing. They fired in rapid succession. But whomever had fired at them was already gone.

  “Downstairs!” Mick yelled, and he and Tommy jumped up and ran out of the room.

  But as soon as they began running down the stairs, more shots rang out, this time from downstairs.

  But Tommy saw the bastard this time, and didn’t hesitate. After the gunman took his shots and took off across the living room floor, Tommy timed it just right, jumped over the railing, and fell on top of the shooter. Both men fell to the floor. But as the shooter attempted to position his gun to take Tommy out, Tommy easily outmuscled him and took the gun away.

  By the time Mick made it down the stairs, Tommy had it well in hand. And the shooter was sprawled out on the floor.

  Tommy got up. “Who’s this motherfucker?” he asked.

  “Peshi’s son,” said Mick, as he placed his shoe on top of the son’s chest. “Who killed your family?” he asked.

  The son, angry and bitter, spat on Mick’s shoe. Mick took his shoe and kicked the son in the face, smashing it. “Who killed your family?” he asked again.

  “You did!” the son yelled. “Nasty bastard! You did!”

  Mick kicked him again. And smashed his face again. “Who killed your family?” Mick asked for the third and final time.

  The son began crying. “They killed everybody,” he said.

  “Who killed everybody?” Mick asked.

  The son shook his head. He was in line to become underboss in Corello’s syndicate. But that was all gone now. Everybody was dead. “Filthy Russians,” said the son.

  But Mick asked a question that made no sense to Tommy. “The Russians killed your family?”
r />   Tommy looked at Mick. The kid just had said the Russians killed them.

  But Corello’s son wasn’t interested in answering anymore questions. This time he tried to spit in Mick’s face. When he missed, he attempted to flip Mick over by grabbing his leg.

  Mick had had enough. He took his shoe and angrily stomped Corello’s son to death.

  Tommy knew it had to be. They couldn’t give their enemies another chance to take them out. But it was still tough to watch.

  They made certain nobody else was alive, and then they left Don Corello’s place too.

  But as Mick drove them back to his own compound, both men were still reeling.

  “Why would the Russians take all of them out like that?” Tommy asked. “Taking out the dons would have taken over their territory. Taking out the dons’ men and the dons’ families were just . . .”

  “Just what?” Mick asked, and then glanced over at Tommy. He wanted to see if Tommy had already connected the dots the way Mick’s observations had.

  “It seemed like overkill to me,” said Tommy.

  Mick nodded. He’d connected the dots. “Right,” said Mick.

  “Unless those Russian bastards thought you wanted to take over the dons’ territories.”

  “They might have thought that,” Mick said. “If that’s what this is about.”

  Tommy looked at his uncle. “What do you mean? You don’t think that’s what it’s about? What else could it be about?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Mick admitted. “But it feels like there’s something I need to see, but I’m missing it.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But no worries,” Mick added confidently, although Tommy looked very worried. “I’ll see it in time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Early that next morning, Roz sat in the makeshift hospital room at her and Mick’s home as Gloria and Joey both slept peacefully in their separate beds. Sitting with her were Glo’s mother, Bella Caine, along with Sal and Gemma, Reno and Trina, Big Daddy and Jenay. And Grace and Amelia. Only Amelia was in a corner on the phone with Hammer Reese, and the conversation was heated.