Authors: Mallory Monroe
inside, and was off.
By the time they made it home, her mother, who had been caling Jeffrey Graham a no-account loser for as long as Trina could remember, was now singing his praises.
“That’s what you need,” her mother said as they began unloading the bags of groceries. “A good looking man like that. Wel-spoken and mannerable. Somebody who’s one of us, not some
mafia mob boss whatever that Dino person is.”
“Reno,” Trina corrected her, walking in front to unlock the door. “Dominic, to be precise.”
“Dominic, that’s worst,” her mother, never to be outdone, said as she folowed her daughter with one of the bags in her hand.
They entered the house talking, or at least Trina’s mother entered talking. Trina pretty much tuned her out.
Outside of the house, however, was a car on the opposite side of the street. Trina had already spotted it and assumed it to be one of Reno’s men. Although Reno didn’t tel her a thing, she
knew from experience that there was no way he was going to leave her tucked away in tiny Dale, Mississippi without some
just-in-case
protection. Seeing that car, the same car she had spotted when they were at the grocery store, was no deal at al to her.
Only it should have been. Joe Ralston would have told her that it definitely should have been. He’d been folowing Reno ever since Partanna iced his father. Had been folowing Reno on the
orders of Partanna himself. Just in case Reno tried a retaliatory strike. He became Partanna’s inside man, a man who’d done work for Reno’s father in the past, a man known for his discretion. A man whose services, Reno nor his father ever realized, that was up for the highest bidder. Frank Partanna was the highest bidder.
Keep an eye on him, Partanna had personaly told Joe Ralston. Find out what he’s up to. And he was doing just that, until Reno made this detour to Mississippi al of a sudden. And then was
marrying this black chick. He had one of his men outside while the marriage was taking place. Had no idea, until he received the cal from LA, that at that selfsame hour Frank Partanna and al of his
top lieutenants were being gunned down like dogs in the street. And gunned down, they al were convinced, on Reno’s orders. The East Coast bosses provided the fire power, but Reno Gabrini,
everybody knew, was caling those shots.
Joe thought it was over after Partanna was kiled. But it wasn’t over by a mile. He received a phone cal, told him to stay on Reno, but not to touch him, not yet. So Joe immediately contacted
Reno’s people, told them he had heard about the Partanna hit, and offered his help. Mentioned that he was in Birmingham on business, but would be back in Vegas in a few days. And Reno’s people
fel for it. Caled him back within the hour and ordered him to Dale, Mississippi to provide cover for Reno’s new bride. Joe smiled just thinking about it. He was providing cover al right, he thought, as he cranked up his car, pressed the button, and drove off.
As soon as he pressed that button, however, the house across the street, the Hathaway home, blew up like a firebal, the swoosh so sudden that it seemed almost caricatured. The neighbors
rushed out onto their lawns, one lady soaking wet and wrapped only in a towel, as the fire began to consume the Hathaway home. And it was a crazy scene in Dale. A house blown up like that.
“Is anybody inside?” one of the neighbors yeled to other neighbors in a hysterical voice. “Is anybody in there?”
“Lord have mercy if they are!” another yeled back.
FOUR
His father’s closest friends were assembled in a private office at the Jersey compound, and al four were long time east coast bosses. Reno, with Carmine standing beside him, leaned back in the
chair behind his deceased father’s big old Victorian desk and listened to the four men. Vito Giancarlo, the most powerful of the four, sat in front of the desk with his hands on the arms of the chair. He was a husky Italian the color of hay, doubled-chinned, pushing sixty and looking every bit his age. He and Reno’s father were the closest of friends, his father seemed to idolize the man, and an
undercurrent of grief stil cloaked Vito, it seemed to Reno.
Luigi Drago, known in the family as the Drag, sat beside him. Although not nearly as powerful as Vito Giancarlo, Reno trusted Drago more. Used to always tel his father that Vito Giancarlo’s
fine when you need a big mouth to speak up for you, a gossip to get the pot stirred up, but when you need a reliable hand to help you, Drago was the man to cal. He was built more like Carmine,
muscular and compact, than Vito, and was younger too.
The other two bosses, Tommy Fabruccio and Enrico Lenzeni, were seated on either end of the two men. Neither were heavy-hitters, skylocking and ilegal gambling bolt-holes their main drugs of
choice. But they stepped up when Reno’s father was iced, and Reno therefore kept them in the loop.
“That’s the problem,” Vito was saying. “We just don’t know. But there’s some chatter, some talk, you know, that I’m a little concerned about.”
“What kind of talk?” Reno asked him.
“Talk,” Vito said. “Chatter.”
“Yeah, but what kind of talk? What kind of chatter?”
“About Frank having more sense that we thought he had,” Tommy Fabruccio spoke up. “About Frank not being no whack job like we thought he was.”
Reno studied Vito. “What’s the word, V?”
Vito inhaled. “This is al rumor, mind. Al speculation that nobody’s proven to my satisfaction. But there’s some talk, some chatter, that Partanna wasn’t the lone wolf we took him for. That he
had backup we knew nothing about.”
Reno’s heart began to pound. He leaned back further in his father’s swivel chair, his eyes never leaving Vito’s. Whatever there was to be known at this point, of al the men in the room, Vito
would know. “This backup is one person,” Reno asked, “or a network of people?”
Vito inhaled again. “A network’s what I’m hearing.”
“Fuck!” Reno yeled, and slung the chair forward, his body now leaned over the desk. “How could that happen, Vito? I made clear we either hit’em al or nobody. Hit’em al or don’t hit
nobody, that’s what I said. Now you’re teling me there’s more psychos out there, some under the underworld network of shitheads out there? That it wasn’t just Partanna and his lieutenants we
needed to hit?”
“Who do you think you’re yeling at, Reno?” Vito asked with a scream in his voice. “This is Vito Giancarlo here! Your father’s best friend! I loved your father!” He said this pointing at his
chest, said this with pride and affection for himself.
Reno settled back down. “I’m sorry, Vito. I didn’t mean any disrespect. But I made it clear.”
“And we ordered our people to do exactly what you told them to do. We didn’t know about this network. I thought Pags had been caled in.”
“Pags?” Carmine asked, astounded. “Geez, Vito. Are you teling us that that psycho Pagnini ain’t dead?”
Vito leaned back. Looked at Reno. “That’s the word I’m hearing, Ree.”
Reno frowned. “But I thought he was caled in?” Reno said. “I remember Pops teling me how stupid Partanna was to cal in Pags, how messed up in the head he was to put a hit on his own
best lieutenant.”
“I was saying the same thing,” Vito said. “I thought they iced him in Portland. Everybody did. Partanna was bragging about it for the longest, bragging about how he caled Pags in and kiled
one of the baddest bad-ass wise guys ever created, how he sent his most powerful made man packing forever.”
“But it was a lie?”
“It was al lies, Reno, at least that’s what I’m hearing. I’m hearing Partanna sent Pags underground to work with some undercover network he had going that oversaw his power grab. I’m
hearing that now, with Partanna gone, the network’s taking over. And although Pags is second in command, he ain’t in command.”
“Fuck!” Reno yeled again from the top of his voice, slamming his hand down on the arm of the chair. “This is exactly why I hate this shit! As soon as you think you can get in and out, you can
hit and move on, you find out somebody didn’t do their homework and now you’re in some gotdamn war! There’s always some trapped door, always some fucker in some aley ready, wiling, and able
to keep the battle raging!”
He exhaled, tried to control his temper, but failed. “You assured me, Vito Giancarlo,” he said in an accusatory tone. “You assured me that Partanna was surface, that he had nothing and nobody
beyond his own muscle. Now you’re teling me that he not only has a network, but that Pags is in it, that crazy fuck Pagnini for crying out loud, and not just that, but that there’s some Capo dei capi in charge, some boss of bosses, we don’t even know about?”
Vito leaned back too. He looked as if he’d aged two years in two minutes. “That’s what I’m teling you,” he said. “But nothing’s been confirmed yet, Reno, I’m also teling you that.”
“If not Pags,” Carmine asked, “who’s running the show?”
“That’s the thing,” Drago jumped in. “Nobody knows. None of Vito’s people know, none of my people know. Nobody knows.”
Reno shook his head. He should have known not to rely so heavily on Vito Giancarlo’s word. He used to tel his Pop not to do so, then he turned around and did so. Vito was a good man, but
he wasn’t the sharpest knife in any drawer and often got it wrong more than he got it right. But he was so certain about Partanna, he was so certain that Partanna was so fucked up that what you saw
was what you got, when Partanna was probably playing them al and wanted them to think that very thing. Reno shook his head.
When his cel phone began ringing he, at first, didn’t even want to answer it. But eventualy he puled it out and glanced at the Caler ID. When he saw that it was Joe Ralston, the man who was
keeping an eye on Tree, he clicked it on quickly.
“What’s up, JoeJoe?”
Al he could hear, at first, was the sound of sirens and Joe’s heavy breathing. “We didn’t see it coming, Reno,” he said, barely able to catch his breath.
Reno’s heart immediately began pounding. “Didn’t see what coming?”
“We didn’t see it coming!”
“Didn’t see what coming?”
“Katrina,” Joe said.
As soon as he said that name Reno flew to his feet like a linebacker ready to attack a defensive line, flew to his feet so fast that his chair flipped backwards and crashed to the floor.
“What about Katrina?” he asked. Carmine stood stil.
“It happened so fast,” Joe said.
“What about Katrina, motherfucker, what about Katrina?!” Reno felt as if his heart was going to come out of his chest. Al he could hear were sirens in the background, al he could think about
was Tree
“There was an explosion,” Joe said, “at her parents’ home.”
“Was she inside the house when it exploded?”
Drago, Fabruccio and Lenzeni immediately jumped to their feet. Vito leaned forward. Carmine stared at Reno.
“Yes, Reno,” Joe said. “She was inside.”
Reno could barely believe it. He began walking from behind his desk. “Where is she now? If you tel me my wife is dead I’l kil you through this phone! Where is she now?”
“They took her to the hospital, that’s al I know. Her and her mother, they took’em to the hospital.”
Reno placed the phone against his chest. “Get the plane ready and contact my people in Vegas,” he ordered Carmine and Carmine immediately puled out his cel phone as he ran out of the
room.
“What is it, Reno?” Vito asked, standing now.
“That fuck Pags or some other dead motherfucker just tried to put a hit on my wife,” Reno said, looking terrified it seemed to Vito, as he hurried out of the room too.
The Drag looked at Vito. “What wife?” he asked him, and they both were dumbstruck.
***
Vegas people had contacted and ordered to get to the hospital.
“Where is she?”
“She’s going to be al right, Mr. Gabrini,” one of the doctors, Dr. Kaye, said.
“Where is she?” Reno asked again, not breaking his stride. “Where is she?” He wasn’t taking some doctor’s word for it. He had to see his wife, he had to eyebal his woman.
Dr. Kaye got the message. “This way, sir,” he said sheepishly and hurried down the hospital’s corridor, the hospital staff standing around in their scrubs amazed by this grand intrusion of their
otherwise smal, and usualy quiet, establishment.
But Reno was as unconcerned about how it looked as he was about his own existence at that moment in time. Al he wanted was to see, to hold, to feel Trina again.
She was in a private room. Reno, Carmine and the doctors entered, while security stood guard at the room’s door.
She was lying in a hospital bed, looking almost serene, Reno thought, as he slowly approached her. Dr. Kaye was at his side.
“Is she in a coma?” Reno asked, nervous as hel. But for a smal bruise on her arm, he could see no damage whatsoever.
“She’s under an anesthetic,” Dr. Kaye replied. “She was hysterical when she arrived here. She kept caling for her mother, and for you.” Reno and the doctor exchanged a quick glance. “But
otherwise she’s going to be just fine. The explosion, from what I understand, took place in the front of the home, near the entrance. She had made her way to the kitchen area and had just opened the
back door to put the cat out, from what she told the staff here, when the explosion occurred.”
“Praise God,” Reno said.
“Yes, she was truly blessed. She caught the blowback, but it was nothing compared to what . . .” He didn’t know if Reno was ready to hear more.
Reno looked at the doctor. “Compared to who? Her parents? What about her parents?”
“Just one parent was apparently at home. Her mother.”
“What about her mother?”