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

  MOB BOSS ELEVEN

  THE WRONG ONE

  By

  MALLORY MONROE

  Copyright©2014 Mallory Monroe

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  AUSTIN BROOK PUBLISHING

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  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.

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  COMING SOON

  FROM MALLORY MONROE:

  BIG DADDY SINATRA

  BOOK TWO

  TOMMY GABRINI

  BOOK FOUR

  SAL GABRINI

  BOOK FIVE

  MOB BOSS SERIES

  BOOK TWELVE

  MORE INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  MALLORY MONROE:

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND

  SERIES IN ORDER:

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND

  THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND 2:

  HIS WOMEN AND HIS WIFE

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  A SCANDAL IS BORN

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  AFTER THE FALL

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  THE POWER OF LOVE

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

  DUTCH AND GINA:

  WHAT HE DID FOR LOVE

  FOR THE LOVE OF GINA

  BOOK EIGHT

  THE MOB BOSS SERIES

  IN ORDER:

  ROMANCING THE MOB BOSS

  MOB BOSS 2:

  THE HEART OF THE MATTER

  MOB BOSS 3:

  LOVE AND RETRIBUTION

  MOB BOSS 4:

  ROMANCING TRINA GABRINI

  A MOB BOSS CHRISTMAS:

  THE PREGNANCY

  (Mob Boss 5)

  MOB BOSS 6:

  THE HEART OF RENO GABRINI

  RENO’S GIFT

  BOOK 7

  RENO GABRINI:

  A MAN IN FULL

  BOOK 8

  RENO AND TRINA:

  GETTING BACK TO LOVE

  BOOK 9

  RENO AND SON:

  DON’T MESS WITH JIM

  BOOK 10

  THE GABRINI MEN SERIES

  IN ORDER:

  ROMANCING TOMMY GABRINI

  ROMANCING SAL GABRINI

  TOMMY GABRINI 2:

  A PLACE IN HIS HEART

  SAL GABRINI 2:

  A WOMAN’S TOUCH

  TOMMY GABRINI 3:

  GRACE UNDER FIRE

  SAL GABRINI 3:

  HARD LOVE

  SAL GABRINI 4:

  I’LL TAKE YOU THERE

  THE SINATRAS OF JERICHO COUNTY SERIES

  IN ORDER:

  BIG DADDY SINATRA:

  THERE WAS A RUTHLESS MAN

  ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM MALLORY MONROE:

  DANIEL’S GIRL:

  ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN

  ROMANCING MO RYAN

  ROMANCING HER PROTECTOR

  ROMANCING THE BULLDOG

  IF YOU WANTED THE MOON

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  KATHERINE CACHITORIE:

  LOVERS AND TAKERS

  LOVING HER SOUL MATE

  LOVING THE HEAD MAN

  SOME CAME DESPERATE:

  A LOVE SAGA

  ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE:

  A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP

  YVONNE THOMAS

  AND

  BACK TO HONOR:

  A REGGIE REYNOLDS

  ROMANTIC MYSTERY

  JT WATSON

  ROMANTIC FICTION

  FROM

  AWARD-WINNING

  AND

  BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  TERESA MCCLAIN-WATSON:

  DINO AND NIKKI:

  AFTER REDEMPTION

  AND

  AFTER WHAT YOU DID

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  www.mallorymonroebooks.com

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  PROLOGUE

  The men in black were already in the club, but nothing distinguished them from the throng of partiers that sat at tables along the edges, or stood and danced around the stage. Many people wore black. And it wasn’t as if they had to make their way to the VIP section: they were VIPs themselves.

  But when they started an argument in that section, and when one of the men stood up and became hyper-aggressive with his venom, the partiers surrounding the stage turned to see what all the fuss was about. The bouncer looked too, and began heading that way, but the partiers were so enthralled with the argument, and didn’t want to miss the excitement, that they would not move out of the way. But the bouncer pushed and shoved. This was no low-class dive. This was no hang-out corner. This was Scroll’s, a very respectable jazz club. There would be no foolishness in this establishment!

  But before the bouncer could reach the scene and break it up, everything suddenly changed. The other man in black stood up too, and without any warning that the stakes had been raised, both men pulled out guns from beneath their coats and started spraying down the ladies they were arguing with as if they were mowing down dogs. They were so deliberate, and so certain in their targeting, that everybody immediately understood the stakes. This was no spontaneous outburst. This was no in the heat of the moment backlash from an argument. This was a planned, calculated execution.

  And then there was pandemonium.

  The same crowd that would not let the bouncer through; the same crowd that was at once unmovable because the men in black were far more interesting than the band on the stage, was now knocking over chairs, tables, and each other to get away from those men and out of that club. They were screaming in horror. They were crying in fear. Men were trampling ladies. Ladies were trampling men. It was a stampede for the exit and if the floor wasn’t available, the backs of their fellowmen would have to do.

  Even the band didn’t go down with this ship. They took off too, taking what instruments they could, leaving what instruments that were too big or too bulky or just too far away to grab. It felt like life or death. It felt like leave or die. It was time for every man to be for himself, and every man made it so. Even the two men in black, who did their dirt with expert precision, took off running too.

  And then there was silence.

  Not the kind of silence that came in anticipation of the big event.

  Not the kind of silence that came during a moment of prayer.

  This was an eerie silence. The kind that came after the event was over, and it was not what you expected. It was not what it was supposed to be by any stretch of the imagination. And everybody left standing were stunned.


  The bouncer saw his boss run to one woman in particular. The one hardest hit. She was spread out on the floor, and was trying to speak.

  “Who is she?” the bouncer asked, as he hurried from behind the bar counter he had dived over when the shooting started. He was pulling out his phone to call 911, although the sounds of gunfire alone had the police already on their way. “Who the hell is she?”

  The club’s owner was down by the woman’s side, holding her hand. Her entire body was convulsing and her beautiful hazel eyes were looking up at him, as if she wanted him to understand with her eyes alone that this was serious. She was in trouble.

  The owner exhaled. He could barely breathe, but he exhaled. “It’s his wife,” he responded to his bouncer, because he was certain now. Then he looked up at the bouncer. Terror was now in his eyes too. “Those fuckers just shot Reno Gabrini’s wife!”

  The bouncer dropped his phone. It splattered into pieces. Even he knew who Reno was.

  But it wasn’t just Trina Gabrini that was down. Two other ladies were down too. But the owner kept his eyes on Mrs. Gabrini. Because he knew who she belonged to. Because even a man like him, who ran a small jazz club, and who had no personal dealings with superpower people like the Gabrinis other than to see them around Vegas and to read about them in the newspapers, had enough sense to know that on this night, in this town, in his nightclub because of who it was they took down, war was about to go in session.

  And it was going to be called to order by Reno Gabrini himself.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Four Days Earlier

  Maurice Pender looked at the Porsche as it drove into the parking lot. “Is that him?” he asked.

  “How should I know?” Gennifer Goff, standing beside him, responded. “Does he drive a car like that?”

  Then she and Maurice looked behind them, at the one woman who would know. Trina Gabrini, leaned against the building’s front door with her small arms folded, smiled. “It’s him,” she said. “I was wondering when you two would stop guessing and ask.”

  They laughed. They were standing in front of a huge abandoned building on a breezy day in Vegas. And although all three of them were cheerful, none of them were relaxed. They knew the job they had in front of them. They knew this was going to be an all-important meeting that would propel their goals forward, or set those goals significantly back.

  Especially for Tree. Convincing Reno of this investment was going to be a tough sell. He was going to find every reason in the book not to let her do it. But this wasn’t about some selfish, money-making venture she was wading into. This was about a non-profit, a place that would help many women who truly needed the help. She was determined on this one.

  She pushed her small body from the wall she was leaned against, brushed off the back of her dark-blue Versace pantsuit, and was about to go and meet her husband at his car. But when she looked at her two potential partners, who seemed almost smug in their confidence, she felt a need to make herself clear. “I know you’re accustomed to making that hard sell,” she said to them, “and I know it often requires a lot of sweet talk and flattery. I understand that. But don’t try it with him. Word of warning. Don’t even think about trying that shit on him.”

  Maurice dismissed her concerns with a smile and a wave of his hand. “Oh, Katrina, you are worrying for no reason whatsoever, darling,” he said in that effeminate way of his. “I’ve been a salesman all my life. I know how to convince all kinds of people from all walks of life. I know how to handle people. Trust.”

  “But you aren’t going to handle my husband,” Trina said firmly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. And I need you to understand that, Mo. I’m on board. I think this is a worthy undertaking and I believe it can help so many women. I know it can. But if my husband says no, then that will be the final word on this. I won’t participate at all if he says no.”

  Maurice Pender was a short man with pale white skin and enormous pop eyes. But he was also a narcissist who could not imagine anyone better looking than himself, nor smarter than himself, nor, as in this case, more astute at knowing the difference between the truth and a lie. “Perhaps I’m out of line here,” he said to Trina, “but you will have to explain that to me.”

  Trina stared her big hazel eyes at him. She was astute too. “Explain what?”

  “You’re an accomplished businesswoman in your own right. You own Champagne’s clothing store, a high-end store I might add, and you’re second-in-command at the PaLargio Hotel and Casino on the Vegas Strip of all places. So please explain to me why you would have to have his permission, or anyone else’s permission for that matter, to do anything! It seems to me that a woman of your stature should be able to just do it.”

  Trina couldn’t believe his nerve. “That’s the way it seems to you, hun?” she asked.

  But Maurice did not back down. “That’s the way I see it exactly, yes,” he said.

  “Then you’re blind,” Trina responded bluntly. “You’re blind as a bat. You’re asking me to invest hundreds of thousands of dollars in this enterprise. Where do you think that money is coming from, Mo? Out of my ass? That’s my husband’s money!”

  “And you’re telling us,” Maurice asked doubtfully, “that you, the strong woman that you are, have no access to his money?”

  Trina had total access to it. “That’s none of your business,” she said to Maurice. “Just understand that I’m not going down any new avenues without my husband going with me. Now if you don’t like it, then find another partner. But if you want this partnership to proceed, I would strongly advise you to heed my warning, check your arrogance, and keep it real and keep it honest when you’re dealing with the man in that car over there.”

  Maurice glanced at the white man in the Porsche, who was still sitting in his car and appeared to be talking on the phone, and then he looked back at Trina. With her hazel eyes against her velvety black skin, she was a strikingly beautiful woman, he had no doubt about it. He easily saw how any man would want her.

  But what Maurice didn’t understand was how she could have nabbed a top dog like Reno Gabrini. He had Googled that man. He was rich, gorgeous, and had a seriously bad boy reputation. How did Trina get him, he wondered. What did she have that all of these equally beautiful white women around here didn’t have? And with all of that obvious power within her grasp, why would she claim that she couldn’t make any move unless her husband said she could make that move? He wasn’t buying it. “You still will need to explain that to me,” he said.

  But Trina wasn’t giving any more explanations. Because she could tell he was on his arrogant kick and his mind was already made up. She glanced at Gennifer. Her mind was made up too. They figured all they had to do was smile their smiles and talk a good game and Reno would automatically bend to their will. A warning from her was not going to be sufficient for them. She left their side and began walking toward her husband’s car. They would have to find out for themselves.

  Maurice watched her leave. “Who does she think we are?” he asked Gennifer. “She must take us for fools! She has no access to her husband’s money. Give me a freaking break! And what about this husband of hers anyway? I went on the Internet checking him out and I was concerned with what I saw. You ever met him before?”

  “Only once,” Gennifer replied, as she raked her long red hair out of her face. “During an art exhibit at Liz Mertan’s house.”

  Maurice looked at her. “And the verdict is?”

  “I would say guilty,” she said. “He has one sick reputation, and he didn’t disprove it when I met him. He was very rude.”

  Maurice nodded. “Just like his wife,” he said. “Did you get a load of that heifer? Telling me to check my arrogance, and to keep it real and honest when she’s sleeping with a gotdamn mob boss. Give me a freaking break!”

  Gennifer laughed. “He’s not in any mob,” she said. “At least he claims he’s not. He’s a legitimate businessman. Don’t believe everything you see o
n the Internet.”

  “And I saw an eyeful, girl,” Maurice responded. “They say he’s no businessman at all. They say he’s a mob boss pretending to be a legitimate businessman.”

  “Just rumors,” Gennifer said dismissively. “I’ve heard far more than that about him. But so what? They’re only rumors.”

  Maurice looked at her with a smile on his face. “What have you heard?” he asked her.

  Gennifer looked across the parking lot as Reno Gabrini stepped out of his car. He wore an olive-green dress shirt that was half out of his pants, and he wore dark shades over his eyes. As he shoved his shirt back into his pants, Gennifer could see the sexiness of his muscular form and, despite the shades, the allure of his attractive face. She smiled and gave him a very positive, assessing look. “They say he’s an animal in bed,” she said. “They say he knows how to do a woman in that oh-so-special way. They say he puts it on her so good that the bitch try to scale a wall to get away from his ass. But then he pulls her right back down, and keeps doing her harder and harder.”

  Maurice shook his head. “All about sex,” he said. “How disgusting!”

  Gennifer laughed. “Stop worrying, Mo. We aren’t dealing with any Mafia boss, okay? Reno Gabrini is a lover first and last. That’s my point. He may have that wife fooled, but I know too many women who have gotten a taste of his big, powerful instrument for him to have time for anything else. He’s a lover, not a fighter. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”