BIG DADDY SINATRA 2: IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, Book 2 Read online

  BIG DADDY SINATRA 2

  IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU

  (The Sinatras of Jericho County)

  BOOK TWO

  By

  MALLORY MONROE

  Copyright©2014 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

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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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  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

  MOB BOSS ELEVEN

  THE WRONG ONE

  BOOK 11

  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

  ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING

  INTERRACIAL ROMANCE

  FROM MALLORY MONROE:

  ROMANCING MO RYAN

  ROMANCING HER PROTECTOR

  ROMANCING THE BULLDOG

  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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  PROLOGUE

  2004

  The blood-red Mercedes stopped at the curb across the street and Jenay Sinatra grabbed her oversized Christian Dior bag. “I need to pick up this order,” she said as she opened the door. “Be right back.”

  Tess Magrid, the twenty-year old live-in nanny, was in the backseat with four-month old Bonita Sinatra, and she began to unbuckle her from the car seat. “I’ll change Nita’s diaper,” she said.

  Jenay glanced back there. “She needs changing again?”

  “Again,” Tess said. “Your daughter is a very eager young lady.”

  Jenay laughed and got out of the car. She walked to the back driver side window to take a peep at her little girl. Her daughter, who had her mother’s brown coloring but her father’s everything else, looked startled when she first saw her standing outside the car. But then she grinned when she realized it was her mother, and began clapping her fat little hands. Jenay laughed again and waved, and then headed across the street.

  She often wondered how in the world did other working mothers do it without a nanny by their side. She had the help, but still felt as if she needed more. Between running her husband’s Bed and Breakfast, and participating in the numerous social functions that she, as the wife of the town’s most prosperous businessman, had to participate in, her days were filled to capacity. Add to that the fact that she also had to attend to her husband’s needs, the needs of their beautiful baby girl that only mommy could attend to, and her increasing involvement in the lives of her husband’s four grown sons, she rarely had a moment to herself. Although, she thought with a wry smile as she walked over to Reuben’s Market, she was loving every minute of it.

  She married Charles Sinatra less than two years ago, and the locals in their small town of Jericho, Maine were steadily growing accustomed to her presence. Instead of treating her as some exotic black woman in a town that was ninety-five-percent white, she were now treated, at least by the rank-and-file, as if she was one of them. She was someone, in their eyes, who worked hard, played by the rules, and treated everybody, even the poorest of the poor, with dignity and respect. Her husband, because of his unflinchingly tough reputation and the fact that he owned over half the town, was still the man they loved to hate, but she was getting the reputation as the woman who just might be able to tame him.

  “Hey, Mrs. Sinatra,” a young woman said happily as she and Jenay walked past each other.

  Jenay smiled. “Hello Millie. I heard you won Homecoming Queen.”

  “I did! I still can’t believe it. I thought for sure one of the mean girls would win.”

  “Not this time. Congratulations,” Jenay added, and continued across the street.

  Even the young people in town were growing accustomed to her too, although she knew many of those young girls were friendly toward her only as a way to get closer to one of her four strapping stepsons. But even those girls were far warmer toward her than they used to be. It wasn’t the young, nor the rank-and-file, but the old money blue-bloods in town, the so-called elites, that still gave her fits. They were the
only ones who continued to try, in all of their arrogance and obnoxiousness, to throw all kinds of shade at Jenay every chance they could. It used to bother Jenay to no end. Now she just threw shade right back at them, and kept it moving.

  “My favorite customer!” Reuben said cheerfully as she entered his store. He was a short, husky man with a double chin and a grand smile. “So great to see you again!”

  “You thought I would forget, now didn’t you?” she asked.

  “I was hoping against hope,” he said with a grin as he grabbed two bags of veggies from behind his counter. “My wife said, ‘don’t worry. You worry too much. She’ll be here. She always comes. She comes late, but she always comes.’”

  Jenay smiled. She was never late, since she never gave them a time certain when she would be there, but in Jericho everything was relative. To the locals, if you didn’t get up first thing in the morning and hurried over to take possession of your order, then you were late.

  “But the reason I worry is because I like you to see my veggies when they’re still fresh and unblemished and absolutely perfect,” Reuben said. Then he winked at her. “Like you,” he added.

  “Ah, thanks, Reub.” That was another thing she was getting used to: older men flirting with her. “I’m sure they’re still lovely,” she added, as she reached inside her bag for her wallet.

  Reuben looked down at her breasts as she looked down at her wallet. She seemed so down-to-earth to him, considering that she was married to a scoundrel like Big Daddy Sinatra, that he wondered if she realized just how attractive she really was. And she was very attractive, he thought, as he looked at those big breasts, at her narrow waist, at her flawless dark skin. When she looked back up at him with those big, hauntingly beautiful gray eyes, his breath caught. He was smitten.

  “Here you are,” Jenay said, paying him.

  “But you must inspect them first,” Reuben said without accepting her money. “You must see what you’re paying for.”

  He opened the bags and showed her, one by one, just how fresh his vegetables were. He seemed so proud of his veggies that Jenay didn’t have the heart to tell him she was in a hurry. She inspected each one and commented on each one. It was taking far more time than she really had to give, nearly fifteen minutes more time, but just seeing Reuben’s face light up with joy with every positive comment she uttered, made it totally worthwhile.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Each and every one.”

  Reuben lit up again. “Same order next week?” he asked.

  “Same order next week,” she said. It would be easier for Jenay to get all of the B & B’s vegetables from just one vendor, which meant she would be patronizing Reuben every other day rather than once per week, but she never favored one ma-and-pop business owner over another one. She spread her husband’s dollars around. They all respected her for that.

  “Let me take these to your car,” Reuben said happily after accepting her payment. Before she could decline his offer, he had already grabbed the bags and was ready to go.

  “So how’s the baby?” he asked as they headed out of the store. “Did you bring her with you this time?”

  “She’s with me,” Jenay said. “She’s in the car with Tess.”

  “Must feel wonderful to be a brand new Ma.”

  “It does,” Jenay responded with a gleeful smile. “I never thought I’d have a child of my own after my first marriage went south, so now that I have one, it’s beyond wonderful.”

  “To have a daughter from a gorgeous girl like you, I’d bet Big Daddy is over the moon.”

  Jenay inwardly smiled. Charles hated when the townspeople referred to him as Big Daddy, especially since most of the people who called him that, like Reuben, were much older than he was. But that was his nickname. Big Daddy Sinatra. Not because he was a good guy, or the father of four grown sons. But because, in their eyes, he was a ruthless asshole who never wanted to compromise, or help a neighbor out, or do anything but hold people to account. Not that anybody thought accountability was bad. None did. But sometimes a man needed help. That down-on-his-luck man, as the townspeople saw it, would get zero help from Big Daddy.

  “He’s thrilled too,” was all Jenay would say to Reuben’s comment as they stepped off of the curb to walk across the street. But just as they stepped off, a muscle car driven by some muscle-headed young man in a t-shirt, suddenly came careening from around the corner. The car was coming so fast that panic set in as soon as Jenay saw it. The car was coming so fast that it would have sideswiped Reuben had Jenay not grabbed his arm, and pulled him back onto the curb.

  But Reuben’s fearfulness became feistiness. “Irresponsible hoodlum!” he yelled and lifted one of the bags he was carrying at the back of the fast-moving car. But the car kept going. The driver was probably laughing as he went.

  But Reuben and Jenay weren’t laughing. Their hearts were pounding. It had been that close.

  “Are you okay?” Jenay asked a now flustered-looking Reuben. He wasn’t an old man, since he was only in his fifties. But compared to Jenay, who was only thirty-five, he was getting up there. A scene like that, even as quick as that one had unfolded, affected him enormously.

  But Reuben being Reuben, he wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m fine,” he said as he gathered himself. “Punk like that don’t scare me none!”

  Jenay smiled. That was the difference between a real tough guy, like her husband, and a pretender. Charles would have never said something like that. He would have been too busy getting the punk’s license plate number. Later, when the punk least expected it, Charles would then get his revenge.

  “Give me the bags,” Jenay said, hoisting her big purse onto her shoulder. “I can manage from here.”

  But Reuben dismissed such talk. “You’re my best customer. I will not have my best customer carrying her own groceries. Now put your arm in mine,” he said, as if she was the one spooked, “and we’ll make this journey.”

  She smiled and complied. He was harmless, after all. And after looking both ways more attentively this time, they began heading across the street.

  “The young people of today,” he said as they walked, shaking his head, “I don’t understand them.”

  “Me either, Reub.”

  “They have no home training the way my generation had. And the way they disrespect their elders is downright criminal.”

  But just as Reuben finished that sentence, and just when they both felt as if it was safe to cross the street and they were crossing it without incident this time, an incident occurred. Jenay was just about to respond to him, more for small talk than to agree with him, when her brand new Mercedes Benz, a gift from her husband, suddenly cradled as it bent forward and then backwards like a bucking horse, and then exploded with aerodynamic force that sent it airborne in a terrifying ball of fire.

  Jenay and Reuben both fell back from the impact of the blast alone, and all of those fresh and unblemished vegetables flew into the air and crash-landed too. When Jenay quickly looked back up, and saw her car fall back down to earth from the sky-high lift it had taken, and was now a fireball of red-hot wreckage, her heart fell through her shoe.

  “Nooo!” she screamed as she jumped up and began running toward the fire. “Not my child! Not my baby! My baby is in that car! Nooo!”

  The few townspeople, who had been walking outside or doing business inside, heard the explosion and were horrified too. But when they saw what Jenay was trying to do, when they saw that she was running toward the fire, every single one of them dropped everything and ran to try and stop her. They knew Jenay now. It felt as if it was their daughter, their sister, their wife running to that disaster! And they knew it was nothing short of a suicide mission. They had to stop her.

  Reuben was so shaken that it was only after he saw the others running their way, did he realize what Jenay was saying, and what she was attempting to do. Her baby was in that wreckage. He remembered that her baby was in that car. His heart dropped again.

  Bu
t because he was still the closest to her, he quickly got up, ran to Jenay, and grabbed her just as she was dangerously close to tossing herself in those flames.

  She fought to break free from him. She didn’t care about her own safety. She didn’t care about her own life. Her daughter was in that car! “What are you doing?” she asked him, she pleaded with him. “My child is in there. My child! My baby! Let me go, Reub! Let me go!”

  But there was no way he could let her go. And the other men in town who came to help him, wouldn’t let her go either. Because they all knew it was over. They all knew it was a tragedy of monumental proportions and there were no two ways about it. Nobody could possibly get out of that kind of fire alive. Not Jenay, if they allowed her to go into it. Not the Nanny, who probably didn’t know what had hit them the way that car exploded so suddenly. Not even Big Daddy Sinatra’s bouncing baby girl.

  It would take a miracle.

  CHAPTER ONE

  One Month Earlier

  Charles Sinatra drove his big, shiny pickup truck along the long, dusty driveway that led to the isolated two-story home. It wasn’t as if he had time for this. He didn’t. There were at least a dozen other matters he needed to address than to have to deal with yet another refuse-to-vacate order. The police department was supposed to handle it, but those politically correct yellowbellies rarely handled anything right. They were too willing to bend and even break the law because everybody in Jericho knew everybody else and it was as if they were passing judgment on their own neighbors. They could never bring themselves to just throw the bums out the way the court order said they were supposed to throw them out. Not these fine folks. Not their own neighbors.