Monk Paletti: Commanding Love Page 2

  When Makayla and Ashley stopped embracing, she looked at her sister-in-law and smiled. “You look so good, Ash,” she said. “Love agrees with you.”

  “Thanks. I feel great. Where’s Donnie?”

  “At the store. Brent told him we’ll pick you up.”

  “What’s Monk up to?” Brent asked as he placed her luggage in the bed of his truck.

  “He’s still in Jersey. He had some business to attend to. But he’ll be here tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow?” Brent asked. “Here in Jericho?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well damn,” Brent said, walking back toward the ladies. “You just left him after spending all those weeks with him. What’s he coming here for tomorrow?”

  “Don’t listen to him, Ash,” Makayla said. “Just get in the truck. Men will always be men.”

  “Clueless you mean?” Ashley asked.

  Makayla laughed. “That’s exactly what I mean!”

  Ashley grinned and got into the backseat of Brent’s big truck as Brent opened the front passenger door for his wife. Then he walked around to the driver’s seat, got in under the steering wheel, and took off.

  But Brent was a cop. The chief of police in Jericho County. He could sense something else was on Ashley’s mind. And it was more than just love.

  He glanced at her through his rearview mirror as he drove. “What is it?” he asked her.

  “What’s what?” she asked him.

  “What else happened in Jersey?”

  Ashley looked at her brother. Did Monk tell him? Then she realized he wouldn’t have. Monk was close to Teddy. The rest of the family only knew him through Teddy. And she was keeping her word. Monk had to talk to her parents first. “Nothing else happened,” she said. “So stop snooping.”

  Makayla laughed. Brent smiled, too, but glanced at his sister again. But she was pulling out her cell phone.

  “Who are you calling already?” Brent asked her.

  “Frankie,” said Ashley.

  “Frankie? As in Monk Paletti?”

  “Hey,” Ashley said happily into her phone.

  Brent looked at his wife. “He’s Frankie now.”

  Makayla smiled too. “Love,” she said.

  “Got in town okay?” Monk asked her over the phone.

  “Just landed,” said Ashley.

  “Who picked you up? Donnie?”

  “No, actually, Brent and Makayla picked me up.”

  “Ah. Okay.” Brent was a cop. He and Monk kept their distance.

  “Everything okay? With Bonaducci I mean.” When Brent heard that name, he looked through his rearview again.

  “Everything’s okay,” said Monk. “No official announcement yet, but everybody’s good. I’ve got to go and handle some business. You take care of yourself and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “What time?”

  “Eight-ish.”

  “Okay. And be careful, Frankie.”

  “You know I will. Bye.” And then he ended the call.

  Ashley let out a sigh of concern. Whenever he had to “handle business,” she was concerned.

  When she looked up, she saw that Brent was looking at her through the rearview again. When their eyes met, she quickly looked away.

  But Brent wouldn’t let it go. “What’s going on, Ash?” he asked her. “Why in the world is Monk coming here tomorrow when you just left him?”

  Ashley would burst if she didn’t tell somebody. And she knew Brent and Makayla were perfect. They would honor her request to keep it to themselves until Monk got in town. “If I tell you,” she said, “you’ve got to promise you won’t tell anybody. Not Daddy. Not Ma. Not even Tony or Bobby. And I mean it!”

  Brent and Makayla glanced at each other. Neither of them liked keeping secrets. But given Ashley’s past reckless behavior, they felt it was better they knew what was going on with her, than not. “We promise,” Brent said. “Now tell us what’s happening?”

  Ashley smiled. She wanted to put back on the ring, but she might forgot to take it off again and somebody, like big-mouth Donnie, might see it. “When we got to the airport in Jersey,” she said, “Frankie slammed on the brakes, got out of the car, and got on his knees.”

  Brent’s heart squeezed. “And?” he asked, glancing at her through the rearview.

  “And he asked me to marry him,” said Ashley.

  Brent and Makayla looked at each other. Brent was a cop, but Makayla was a lawyer, an officer of the court. And they both knew what Monk Paletti was all about. Neither were pleased. Brent was so upset that he pulled his truck over to the side of the road and put it in Park. And he turned and looked at his kid sister. “And you said?” he asked her.

  Ashley smiled. “I said yes.”

  Brent frowned. “Ashley, you didn’t!”

  “What do you mean I didn’t? Why wouldn’t I? Frankie is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “He’s a mobster, Ash! He’s in that life!”

  “He’s a good man who doesn’t bother anybody unless they bother him. You make it sound as if he’s . . .”

  “He’s what?” Brent asked. “A gangster? Is that what I’m making it sound like? Yes, I am making it sound that way. Because guess what? That’s what he is! You do realize who Frankie is, right? He’s Frankie “the Monk” Paletti. As in the underboss of the Bonaducci Crime Family. As in a very vicious man.”

  “He’s not vicious,” Ashley said. “You make him sound like he’s Uncle Mick, and he’s nothing like that.”

  “He may not be Uncle Mick. But he ain’t that far off,” Brent said firmly. “He’s the underboss of the Bonaducci Crime Family, Ash!”

  Ashley knew Monk was about to become much more than the number two. He was about to be crowned the head of the Bonaducci Crime Family. But she wasn’t about to tell by-the-book Brent that. He’d blow a gasket if she told him that. “That’s just an allegation,” she said, which was the line all of the mob wives were taught to use.

  But even Makayla was concerned. She turned around and looked at Ashley too. “Ash, are you sure you want that kind of life?”

  A look came over Ashley’s face that made Makayla and Brent both know that she wasn’t as certain as she was making out to be.

  “Ash?” Makayla asked again.

  “He loves me and I love him,” Ashley finally responded. “I’ve never met anybody like him, Kayla. Yes, I’m certain.”

  But Brent was shaking his head. “Dad is not going for this,” he said firmly. “I’ll tell you that right now. Dad is not going to be onboard.”

  “That’s why nobody is to know until Frankie gets here. Until Frankie tells our parents. He can handle Daddy.”

  Both Makayla and Brent were shocked. “Who can handle Big Daddy?” Makayla asked her as if she misheard her. “Even Uncle Mick can’t handle Big Daddy, and you think your boyfriend can?”

  “Nobody handles Pop, and you know it, Ash.” Brent pressed his truck’s Start button. “Stop talking nonsense,” he added.

  “It’s not nonsense, okay?”

  “Then what do you call this bullshit, Ash?” Brent was so upset that he didn’t drive off. He turned around again and faced her. “I stay out of your affairs. Ever since Mom and Dad adopted you and brought you and Carly home to become a part of the family, I have done my level best to stay out of your crazy-ass affairs. Just like I stay out of Donnie, Tony, Bobby, and Carly’s affairs too. But this is crazy even for you, Ash.”

  A sadness came over Ashley. Her family didn’t give her credit for anything! “Even for me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means!” Brent fired back. Then he frowned. He still couldn’t believe it. “A mobster? You want to marry a mobster? You’ve seen what that kind of life can do to the wives, like Aunt Roz, and like Sal Gabrini’s wife. You see what they have to go through. What they have to put up with. And you want that life? I thought you were smarter than that, Ash. Flighty, yes. Irresponsible, hell yes. But smart. I always
knew, behind all of that nuttiness, you were a smart girl.”

  “Aunt Roz and Aunt Gemma are smart too,” said Ashley.

  “I know they are,” said Brent. “But they didn’t have all of these examples you have. Unlike everybody else in the family, I always figured you had some smarts about you and would learn from other people’s mistakes.”

  “I do.”

  “Not if you plan on marrying Monk Paletti you don’t!” Brent said loudly.

  Ashley frowned. “Why are you so upset? This isn’t about your life. It’s about my life, and how I choose to live it. And that’s not nuttiness, or irresponsibility.”

  “Then what is it?” Brent asked.

  “It’s love,” said Ashley heartfelt, tears staining the lids of her eyes, and both Brent and Makayla looked at her.

  Ashley hated that she was getting emotional about it. But Brent took her there. “I love him,” she said. “I love Frankie. He treats me better than any man ever has.”

  “Given the men you’ve known, that’s not saying much,” Brent said. “I’m sorry, Ash, but you know it’s not.”

  Ashley knew her brother spoke the truth. She picked some serious losers in her day. But he didn’t understand. He’d never understand a complicated man like Monk. “He’s worth it, Brent,” she said.

  Brent felt that tug he always felt for Ashley. She and Donnie both were pains in the ass most of the time. But Ashley always had a big heart too. She always was mistreated by men, but her heart was always in the right place.

  Now she was willing to give her heart to a gangster like Monk Paletti? A man who, by the very definition of his profession, was going to break that heart of hers in the end?

  He turned around, placed his truck in gear, and drove away. Big Daddy wasn’t going for it. He didn’t care what Ashley believed.

  But as Ashley rode in her brother’s backseat, she understood it wasn’t going to be easy. Contrary to what her family believed, she was no airhead. She knew it was going to be a hard sell. Her father, like Brent, didn’t believe in painting outside of the lines no matter how much sense it made to do so. But she also knew if anybody could sell it, Frankie could.

  She was betting on Monk.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Lincoln Town Car stopped in front of a Chinese dry cleaners in Jersey. His men were waiting for him to get out to handle his business, but he just sat there. Although everybody knew what was coming down the pike, it hadn’t officially come yet. He was still the underboss, not the boss, and he still had duties to perform. But his mind seemed a million miles away.

  Mainly because it was. Monk was worried about Ashley. He’d just proposed to her before she got on his plane and flew back to Maine. He was about to rope her into his world for all the wrong, selfish reasons. Because he loved her. Because he needed her. Because he wanted her. But what did she truly need? To be saddled with a mobster like him? A man who, any day now, could be installed as the official head of a ruthless crime family? What woman needed that shit? Especially, Monk thought, a sweet girl like Ashley.

  And he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And the more he thought about her, and what life with him would be like for her, he was beginning to realize a profound truth. A sad, depressing, but necessary truth. What if he married her, and something happened to her? How could he live with himself after that? She was happy in her small hometown of Jericho. She had issues there, but they paled in comparison to the issues she was going to face with him. Jericho was no Jersey. That, he knew, was for damn sure.

  And he couldn’t stop having so many second thoughts.

  As he sat there, the two capos and the driver, too, were anxiously waiting instruction. Josoni sat up front with the driver. Crawley sat on the backseat with Monk. But Crawley was the only one willing to go there with Monk. Josoni couldn’t stand Monk’s cautious ass. He was in Monk’s old man’s camp. He wanted Monk’s old man to remain in charge.

  But Crawley wasn’t playing that game. Monk’s old man was a disaster as their leader, and most in the organization knew it. Frankie didn’t even want the job, but he was born for it. “Frankie, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re here,” Crawley said.

  But Monk, still sitting there thinking, didn’t respond.

  “Frankie?” Crawley tried again. “Frankie?”

  “Let his ass keep daydreaming,” Josoni said. “That’s all he does anyway. Claiming the Don’s too sick to make it official. I say the Don’s having second thoughts, that’s what I think. I say the Don knows how unreliable Frankie’s ass can be too.”

  Before Josoni realized what had hit him, Monk’s powerful arm was around his neck and had jerked him backwards so far over the front seat that Monk’s mouth was at his ear. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  Josoni was terrified. He talked trash around Monk all the time. Monk never responded before. “I wasn’t sayin’ nothing,” he responded. “I was just mouthing off. Like I always do. Just my thoughts, that’s all, Frankie. You know me! Just my thoughts.”

  “Keep your thoughts to your fucking self,” Monk warned, and then released Josoni with such a hard release that Josoni’s body lurched forward.

  “Take a ride around the block,” Monk said to the driver, and then he and his two capos got out of the Town Car.

  While Crawley and Josoni went to the trunk and pulled out metal baseball bats, Monk put his always-present hat on his head, buttoned his suit coat, and headed across the sidewalk. With their bats in hand, the two capos followed behind him. The driver took off.

  They made their way into the cleaners where the woman behind the counter pretended not to even notice them. She was paid to keep her mouth shut. Her workers, a small group of illegally imported Chinese, kept their traps closed too. The Bonaduccis owned that whole area. They weren’t about to buck Monk.

  Monk and his men made their way down a narrow hall that led to a backroom. Monk didn’t knock. He didn’t check to see if the door was locked or unlocked. He kicked it in and it flew open.

  Inside, the guy they called Checky Lonza was just snorting a line of cocaine with two of his men when the door flew open. All three jumped up and tried to reach for their hardware that was also on that table, but Monk kicked the table over too. “Get lost,” Monk said to the two men. “Checky and me got business.”

  The two men gladly hurried out of that room. They knew Monk well enough not to fuck with him. Josoni slammed the broken door shut behind them and then leaned on it to keep it shut.

  Monk reached out his hand. Crawley placed his bat in Monk’s hand. And then Monk looked at Checky. “What happened?” he asked him.

  “Nothing happened.”

  Monk lifted the bat up to his shoulder. “What happened?” he asked again.

  “It was a grievous error,” Checky finally decided to say. “When it all went down, I’m sitting there like a lump of coal trying to take it all in. But nobody’s got nothing to say because there ain’t nothing to say. They lost it. That’s what happened. They lost it.”

  “I’m about to lose it with this bat all over your body if you don’t’ tell me something better than that,” Monk said. “How the fuck they gonna lose fifteen fucking containers big as fifteen fucking Mack trucks? You tell me that! How you lose fifteen Mack trucks?”

  “But that’s what happened, Frankie,” Checky insisted. Why would I lie to you? They unloaded the trucks. Like they were supposed to. They put all of that shit in the designated shipping containers for ship out the next day. Like they were supposed to. But when they came back, some genius dock supervisor, some city worker, had reconfigured the containers. Everything was where it wasn’t supposed to be and they didn’t have a clue where ours ended up. And there were thousands of containers out there. Where was ours? Could be in Timbuktu for all I know. That’s what happened. They lost it.”

  Monk took that metal bat and busted both of Checky’s kneecaps. Checky screamed as he fell to the floor sideways. “You think I’m bullshitting with your lying ass? Yo
u either produce that shipment, or you produce that money. Which is it gonna be, Checky? Which is it gonna be?!”

  “I’m telling you I didn’t have nothing to do with it. The team I hired lost it. That’s why I iced every one of those motherfuckers. I did everything I could do, Frankie. I told your old man the whole story. He accepted what I told him.”

  “That’s my old man. This is me. And I’m not accepting shit. Because that’s not what I’m hearing happened. I’m hearing your ass suddenly showing up around Vegas in your Lamborghini and your Porsche and your ass throwing around money like it’s rain. I say it’s our money. And we want it back!”

  Just as Monk was about to swing on Checky again, gunfire erupted outside of the office, with bullets flying inside. Monk dived for cover, and so did Crawley, but Josoni, standing at the door, took several bullets in the back before he could make any move, and he dropped dead. Checky took bullets before he could dive for cover too.

  Monk and Crawley pulled out their weapons and started shooting back, but they realized they were easily outgunned and the bullets overtook them and forced them to flee.

  Both men ran for the back of the room, where the windows were, as the already broken door was kicked down and gunmen rushed in. When the gunmen saw Monk and Crawley thrusting their bodies through the glass of two different windows, crashing through them to the outside, the bullets started flying again.

  Monk and Crawley hit the ground rolling, and then jumped up running. The gunmen jumped out of the windows, too, and ran behind them.

  Monk and Crawley ran as fast as they could along the sides of the cleaners and a pawnshop building in the alleyway. The gunmen were trying to fire and run, too, but moving targets weren’t their specialty. They were missing badly. But they still had the advantage and knew it: most of their bullets might miss, but it only took one bullet to hit.

  They were aiming that one bullet for Monk.

  But just as Monk and Crawley cleared the alley, their Town Car that had circled the block several times already sped up, slammed on brakes with the windows down, and they jumped through the windows as another hail of bullets met them.