Sal Gabrini: Burning Love Read online

  And Reno, knowing that hotheaded husband of hers better than even she knew him, put the petal to the metal and flew.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The press was already out in force when Reno’s Porsche drove up to the gated entrance of the Granville Golf and Country Club. When he was stopped at the gate to address Security, and pressed down his window, the reporters, on the sidelines, pounced.

  “Is your husband a racist, Mrs. Gabrini?”

  “The man he killed was unarmed, just like those Nigerians. Are you aware of that, ma’am?”

  “Sal Gabrini has a racist past. Why did you marry him?”

  “Is your husband a mob boss, Mrs. Gabrini?”

  “Is your husband still a racist, Mrs. Gabrini?”

  They were throwing the kitchen sink at Gemma, but Gemma wasn’t trying to hear it. She’d believe Sal stole a spaceship and flew it to the moon before she believed he killed that man because he was black. No way. Even with his nasty past, there was still no way in Gemma’s mind.

  Reno didn’t believe it either, as he heard the accusations hurled at Gemma. He wanted to tell those reporters about their asses, but Gemma placed her hand on his thigh and stopped him. She was experienced enough to know that such an emotional response would only add fuel to the fire. It wouldn’t help Sal at all. They held their peace. It was a miracle for a man like Reno. But for Sal’s sake, they held their peace.

  After being cleared to enter the premises, Reno drove through the opening gate, missing the reporters, and their additional questions, by inches.

  Sal was seated on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped, his face unable to shield his anger. The Detective in charge, Jorge Morales, sat on the coffee table in front of him while his partner, another detective, stood beside him. CSI was also in the room, as they were still collecting evidence. It had been nearly two hours since Sal shot the intruder. It had been forty minutes since he was allowed to phone Reno, and tell him to get Gemma.

  Morales had just shown Sal another series of forms. Sal reviewed them, but quickly handed them back. “What you keep showing me all of these papers for?” Sal asked with irritation in his voice. “I don’t care what your papers say. It’s bullshit. I own this lodge. I’ve owned this lodge for years, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Watch your language, Gabrini,” the second detective said.

  Sal looked up at him as if he’d lost his mind. Fuck you, he wanted to say, but the confrontation wasn’t worth it.

  “You own it,” Morales said. “Nobody is disputing that. But apparently, the Club mixed it up and assigned your lodge to the decedent. The man walked through that door because he had a right to walk through that door. At least according to these papers.”

  “Bullshit,” Sal said again. “Those papers are bullshit.”

  But when the door was opened by a policeman, and Gemma and Reno were allowed to walk in, Sal’s entire demeanor changed. He wanted Gemma in his arms. Nobody could soothe him the way she could. He quickly stood to his feet.

  But Morales, who despised rich and powerful bad men like Gabrini, jumped up too. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “Sit your ass down!”

  Reno couldn’t believe some cop would dare talk to Sal that way. Sal couldn’t believe it either. He stared at the cop, and stood toe to toe with him. He was itching for a confrontation. The second detective moved in closer.

  Gemma knew where this was heading. Too much testosterone. Too much envy and anger. “It’s okay, Sal,” she said quickly. “Let them have their day.”

  Sal knew what that meant. It was Gemma’s way to defuse his legendary temper. Give a dog his day. Give these cops their moment. Sal looked at Gemma. He was tense as hell after dealing with these jackasses all afternoon, on top of the horrible fact that he may have gunned down an innocent man. He wanted her in his arms. But she was right. Fighting a cop was like kicking a brick wall. It might feel good in theory, but in practice? Not so good. They had the guns right now. They were his brick wall. He sat back down.

  Morales turned his attention to Gemma and Reno. And smiled a smile neither one of them returned. “Hello, Miss Jones,” he said. “Nice to see you again.”

  Gemma and Morales went way back. Back before she met Sal and was still just Gemma Jones, a defense attorney working with cops like Morales all day long. But the Jones reference was his way to needle Sal. She knew he knew her last name by now.

  But that wasn’t worth a fight either. “What are the charges?” she asked as she made her way toward Sal. Reno remained near the door. He didn’t like cops. He didn’t like being around cops. Just in case shit popped off, he wanted to make sure he, Sal, and Gemma had a clear getaway.

  “Charges?” Morales asked. “Who said anything about charges?”

  “Then why is he still here? I’m certain my client would not have chosen to sit up here and answer your questions unless he felt compelled to do so. Unless he believed he was about to be placed into custody.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Jones. I never once mentioned such a thing. He would have been free to go by now, but new information came to light, and we had to ask him about it.”

  Gemma wanted to ask what new information, but she didn’t. A lawyer never asked an incriminating question she didn’t already know the answer to. “He’s free to go right now,” she said instead, “if you aren’t arresting him.”

  Sal would have smiled if he wasn’t so put upon. Gemma got one up on the jackass. But Morales was a hard sort. “We got additional information,” he said, “that we needed to run by your client, as you call him. Is he no longer your husband?”

  Reno looked at the cop. Did he realize what family he was fucking with?

  But Gemma ignored the detective. “What new information?” she asked.

  She could tell it was juicy. She could tell by the sparkle in Morales’s black eyes. “Have a seat,” he said.

  He was pointing at the chair beside the sofa, but Gemma sat next to Sal on the sofa. And as was usually the case, neither one of them showed the affection they felt. They were on enemy turf. They both wanted to know what new information the detective was referencing and they didn’t need to reveal any weaknesses. But even without touching, they felt a warmth radiate between them. Just sitting next to Sal, and smelling his fresh cologne and feeling his strength beside her, despite the situation he found himself in, made Gemma more relaxed.

  “We have identified the decedent,” Morales said.

  Gemma and Sal and even Reno from across the room stared at Morales and waited with bated breath for him to continue. Like most cops who had dealings with Gabrinis, he was being an asshole and taking his pretty time. But they waited.

  “The decedent is Leakon Chikelu. He just moved to Vegas from Memphis, and had just become a member of the Granville Golf and Country Club. All members automatically are given ownership of a lodge per their membership, and Mr. Chikelu had just signed the paperwork that assigned this lodge to him.”

  They all were listening, but none of them heard anything outrageous. Okay, some guy was given the wrong lodge. They already understood that. Until Morales added one small detail.

  “The man you shot and killed this afternoon,” he said to Sal, “was an American of Nigerian descent.”

  Sal’s heart began to pound. Was he saying what he thought he was saying?

  “The man you shot and killed this afternoon, the person of Mr. Leakon Chikelu, was the son of the elderly Nigerian couple you killed when you were a cop yourself all those years ago.”

  Reno unfolded his arms. He couldn’t believe it. He looked at Sal.

  Gemma, floored too, looked at Sal.

  And Sal was dumbstruck. What had started out being an unfortunate misunderstanding and accident, had suddenly morphed into so much more. This was no fucking coincidence. Sal, Reno, and even Gemma now knew this was a set up.

  But Gemma knew she had to keep it together. “What are you saying, Detective?” she asked. “
Are you insinuating my client knew who the intruder was?”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. That will be for the D.A.’s office to determine. But let’s put it this way, Miss Jones. No matter how you slice this puppy, it doesn’t look good.”

  Then Morales exhaled. He felt he got all the dibs in he needed for right now. “But he’s free to go,” he said, and Sal and Gemma both stood. “But that means nothing at this early stage. We’ll need more information to determine if this was a justified homicide or murder. Once that’s determined, we’ll be in touch.” Then he looked at Gemma. “You know the drill, Gem. Your client must remain in town, and available, pending the outcome of our investigation. If we feel he’s a flight risk, we will find cause to lock him up like the animal we both know he is.”

  Reno nearly flew across that room to Sal’s side, and placed his arm around his cousin. Not in affection, per se, but to stop him from lifting his fist and knocking the shit out of that Keystone cop.

  Morales smiled. He was enjoying his upper hand. He looked at Gemma. “Good day, Miss Jones,” he said and began walking away.

  “Her name is Mrs. Gabrini,” Sal couldn’t help but say. He knew that asshole knew better.

  Then Morales, as if determined to get the last word, turned back around. “Oh, by the way,” he said as if he was Columbo, “what happened to the female that was in here with you at the time of the shooting?”

  Sal almost glanced at Gemma. Gemma and Reno both were certainly staring at him. But he maintained his cool. “What female?” he asked Morales.

  “Some neighbors reported hearing the screams of a woman just after they heard the gunfire. Where is she, Mr. Gabrini?”

  Sal knew he had to deny all, or Morales would have the rope to pull him in. Another person involved. The plot, in his narrow mind anyway, would thicken. “There was no female,” Sal lied.

  Morales continued to stare at him, and then to smile as if he still had the upper hand. “Okay,” he said. “You folks have a nice day.”

  It was the kind of dismissal that bespoke, not the same cliché as let a dog have his day, as it was when the shoe was on Sal’s foot. But more like your day will come. Morales even grinned as he and his detective walked away, to find out what evidence the CSI crew had collected.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Reno suggested. He always felt nauseated around cops. And they left. But not before Gemma turned around, and she and Morales exchanged a hardened look. Morales was a lot of things, she knew. An asshole chief among them. But he was no liar. He was one of the few cops who actually got on the stand and would truthfully testify, rather than, as many cops did, untruthfully testi-lie.

  But it was all beginning to feel overwhelming to Gemma. A man shot and killed who just happened to be the son of the same Nigerian couple whose death, years ago, Sal claimed responsibility for? Who just happened to have been given the same lodge Sal owned, a lodge Gemma didn’t even know he owned? And some woman was allegedly at the lodge with Sal?

  She looked at him as he made his way to his Bugatti, his face now a mask of anguish and his walk no longer the confident gait she was accustomed to. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t talk to her. This wasn’t good.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  By the time Gemma went into the Nursery inside their Vegas estate, to kiss and hold their baby and to talk with Nanny about how Lucky’s day had gone, and made her way back into the living room, Sal was standing behind the bar preparing drinks. Reno was seated on the barstool, accepting the drink. Gemma sat beside Reno, accepting hers.

  “How long do you think we have,” Reno asked her, “before their so-called investigation is concluded?”

  “Knowing Jasper Lowe,” Gemma said, “I would say a few days tops. And we have to automatically assume, once that investigation concludes, that an indictment will be handed down. They may not indict. They may choose not to press any charges. But I don’t know. Morales seems anxious to me.”

  Sal drank his entire drink in one long swallow, and then let out a harsh exhale. The stress on his face broke Gemma’s heart.

  “But let’s pray they don’t file charges,” she added.

  “What you’re saying,” Sal said, “is that I’d better figure out this shit myself, before they lock my ass up.”

  “Right,” Reno said, agreeing. “It was a set up.”

  “Hell yeah,” Sal said with a frown. “They’re going back to my cop days? Are you kidding me? This shit has set up written all over it.”

  His intercom buzzed. Gemma went over to the wall and pressed the button. “Yes?”

  “Robby Yale is here to see Boss.”

  Gemma looked at Sal. Sal nodded. Gemma pressed the button again. “Send him in,” she said.

  And within minutes, Robby Yale walked in.

  Sal had an issue with him, an issue that had him fuming inside, but he wasn’t dealing with that in front of Gemma.

  “It was a mix-up at the front office, sir,” Robby said as he headed toward the bar. “The manager was new and he assumed, since your lodge hadn’t been used in years except for maid cleanup, that it was vacant.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Sal said easily. “My name is on that deed. He had no business assuming shit. Have Chilly’s detail pick him up and take him to the house.”

  The house, they all knew, even Gemma, meant the safe house.

  “Yes, sir,” Robby said, and walked further away to make the phone call.

  “What you think the manager would know?” Reno asked Sal.

  “He’s the one who assigned my lodge to that guy. I need to know why. And that shit about thinking it was vacant ain’t it.”

  “That detective said you haven’t been there in years,” Reno said. “Was he right?”

  Sal glanced at Gemma and then poured himself another stiff one. “Yes,” he said.

  “Why would you all of a sudden go there now?” Reno asked.

  “Mouse and Tito knew the place. We used to have confabs there back in the day.”

  “You suggested it, or they did?”

  “I did. They called me a couple weeks ago, and I set it up for today.”

  Reno smiled. “Damn, Sal, that wasn’t exactly a quick turnaround.”

  “Then fuck’em,” Sal said. “They know what time it is. All of this run to Sal whenever they get in trouble shit is getting old. I probably call them for help, they wouldn’t give me a meeting two weeks out. They wouldn’t bother to meet.”

  Reno frowned. “Then why do you bother with them?”

  Sal shook his head. “Hell if I know.” Then he exhaled. He knew. “They need help. They ain’t kidding. They need help. And if they fall, it’ll put more pressure on me.” Sal smiled weakly. “I have enough pressure.”

  Gemma stared at him.

  “So, what did they want?” Reno asked.

  “Some unknown boss is taking over their territory. They want me to find out who.”

  “And take him out?”

  “They wanted it, but I told them no. It’s their asses on the grill. If that’s not enough to make them fight for their survival, then tough. I’m not putting my men on the line. It’s their fight. I’ll find out who’s behind taking their territory. They’ll have to do the rest.”

  “Damn right,” Reno agreed.

  After a brief period where all three simply took sips of their drinks and dealt with their own inner thoughts, Reno looked at Sal in an attempt to change the subject. “So, when do I get my maiden voyage in your new plane?” he asked.

  “Never,” Sal said. “If it wasn’t for your ass, I wouldn’t have had to buy a new plane.”

  Reno and Gemma smiled. Then Reno’s look turned serious. “Why won’t you let me pay for it, man?”

  Sal was shaking his head. “No.”

  “But why, Sal? I’m the one who crashed it.”

  “No,” Sal said again. “Trina nearly died. You paid already.”

  Reno and Gemma both looked at Sal. Because that was Sal to them in a nutshell. Of all the
Gabrinis, he was the one with the biggest heart. Then Reno smiled. “I’ll say it again. Your ass is a walking contradiction,” he said. “You have the biggest heart of any man I’ve ever known, and you’re the meanest s.o.b. I’ve ever known.” He looked at Gemma. “Am I right, Gem?”

  Gemma smiled. “He has a big heart,” she said. “That’s all I’ll commit to.”

  Sal laughed. “Now there’s my heart right there,” he said before he realized he had said it. Gemma and Reno both were astounded. Sal showing public affection like that?

  Sal, realizing what he perceived as his blunder, frowned. “But whatever. What time you got, Ree?”

  Reno grinned. “Motherfucker trying to worm his way out of it,” he said, and they all laughed just as the front door opened and Trina Gabrini, Reno’s wife, came hurrying in.

  “Little too merry up in here,” she said as she closed the front door.

  “Tree?” Reno asked as she revealed herself from around the foyer wall. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard about the shooting.” She made her way toward the bar. “Sal, are you okay?”

  “I’m good,” Sal said, raising his glass to her. “Thanks for asking, Tree.”

  “Hey, babe,” Trina said, hugging Gemma. “I hate that you have to go through this. And the accusations! As if you would marry a racist.”

  “Right?” Gemma said, agreeing with her.

  “Give me a break!” Trina continued.

  When Gemma and Trina stopped embracing, Trina looked at the two men. “So, what’s the game plan?” she asked.

  Reno smiled, placed his arms around her waist, and pulled her against him. What would she know about game plans?

  “I’ve got to find out who set me up,” Sal said. “That’s the only possible plan.”

  “Do you have any leads?” Trina asked.

  “A few.”

  “Do what you gotta do, man,” Reno said. “That’s all I have to say. But remember the cops are watching. That cop drilling you today? He has it in for you.”