Reno Gabrini- the Man in the Mirror Page 5

  “Everybody have a seat,” Reno ordered. Mick sat back down in the chair he had risen from, Tommy sat beside his kid brother Sal on the sofa, and Trina and Reno sat beside the Gabrini brothers on the sofa, too. Trina, who adored Sal above Tommy and Mick combined, sat beside him and leaned against him. Sal, although a mob boss himself, had the biggest heart in that room if you asked Trina. Sal, who held a special place in his heart for Trina, too, placed his arm around her waist.

  Reno, sitting beside Trina, leaned forward. He was mainly looking at Mick. “I checked before I came downstairs,” he said. “The cops and the Feds are still hyping their terrorists did it angle.”

  “That’s what they will continue to do regardless of the evidence,” Mick responded. “It’s instructive, but not something we are going by.”

  “I agree,” Reno said with a nod of his head.

  “What have your people uncovered?” Mick asked.

  “They got copies of the videos the cops are viewing.”

  “And?” Mick asked.

  Reno shook his head. “And nothing. I saw nothing on those tapes. Just regular people having their dinner.”

  “What’s that shit about that middle-eastern man leaving the restaurant?” Mick asked.

  “There were all kinds of people in that restaurant, including middle easterners. It’s fucking Vegas. What did they expect? I think it’s their way to keep the public occupied on the enemy they love to hate.”

  “Rather than the truth,” Mick said.

  Reno nodded. “Rather that the truth. That’s probably how they see it, anyway.”

  Trina stared at him. “How do you see it, Mick?” she asked him.

  Mick crossed his legs. “When I heard about it, I assumed the worst.”

  “You assumed,” Trina said, “that it was not a terrorist attack?”

  “I know it’s not,” Mick said.

  Everybody looked at him. “How do you know it’s not?” Sal asked him.

  “My men took a look at the video footage, too. They didn’t see shit either. So I took a look.”

  Reno was anxious. “You saw something?”

  “The guy they said was some middle-easterner driving away from the restaurant just before the bomb blew?”

  “What about him?” Reno asked.

  “I know him,” Mick said.

  Trina, Sal, and Tommy looked at Reno. “And he’s not a terrorist?” Reno asked.

  “He’s a terrorist, alright,” Mick said. “But not the kind they mean. He used to work for somebody we all know. Somebody you know very well, Reno.”

  “Who?” Tommy asked, unable to bear the suspense a moment longer.

  “He used to work for Frank Partanna,” Mick said.

  They all knew that name. “Frank Partanna?” Reno asked. “Not that fucker again!” Frank Partanna was the mobster who put a successful hit out on Reno’s father. Frank Partanna was a nasty piece of shit Reno ordered dead. And his order succeeded. But that was only the beginning of a war Reno had been fighting with Partanna’s survivors ever since. A war that stretched years.

  “You remember Frank, right?” Mick asked.

  “Does a hand have fingers?” Sal asked. “We all remember that fucker!”

  “I remember it as if it happened an hour ago,” Reno said. “I was in Dale, Mississippi, getting married to Trina in her parents’ hometown, when I ordered that hit.” He would have carried it out himself, he recalled, if he wasn’t afraid it would cost him Trina’s love. “Who’s out for revenge now?” he asked Mick. “Another son we don’t know shit about? A nephew? A cousin?”

  “Nothing like that,” Mick said. “A guy named Oscar Di Salvo. You know him, right?”

  Reno nodded. “Yeah, I know him.”

  “So do I,” Sal said. “He started working for Frank when we were kids together in Jersey. When Frank ran to Sicily to lay low after he ordered a hit on a rival family, Oscar went with him. They stayed right there in Sicily. In Palermo. He was his number one muscle since I could remember.”

  “But one night, Mick said, “everything changed. Frank killed the son of a Sicilian judge in some nightclub because the kid was looking at him wrong, and then took off before the cops came. Oscar, who had been in the men’s room, was caught by the cops. He didn’t do shit, but the cops knew he worked for Frank. And they were crooked as hell anyway. Somebody had to take the fall. So they railroaded Oscar. Instead of Frank looking out for him with top dollar lawyers and bribe money, Frank, instead, hightailed his ass to America, and left Oscar high and dry.”

  “So that’s what happened to Oscar?” Sal asked. “Who does that to his number one muscle?”

  “An asshole like Frank Partanna,” Reno said. “That’s who!”

  “Oscar received thirty years for that crime,” Mick said, “and ended up serving twenty. He held a mighty grudge against Frank.” He looked at Reno. “Di Salvo wanted Partanna iced long before you wanted him iced.”

  “So Oscar’s out of prison now?”

  “He got out two weeks ago.”

  “Mighty fast to plan a bomb blast of that magnitude,” Reno said.

  “Oh, he had help,” Mick said.

  “But why would he be coming after my wife?” Reno asked. “If he wanted Partanna dead, I did his ass a favor!”

  “Favor my ass,” Mick responded. “You iced Frank before Di Salvo could ice Frank. He was in that Italian prison waiting for the day when he would get his revenge. He was counting the fucking days. When word came down that you had Frank killed; that you killed the dream that kept him alive in prison, a big part of him died. You took away what was keeping him alive. But he had a new mission, one that gave him new life while he was incarcerated.”

  “What was the mission?” Reno asked.

  “You,” Mick said, and Trina looked at him.

  “Reno?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid so,” Mick responded to her in a rare show of empathy. “From every fucker who knew him in prison, and I checked all the way back, he was obsessed with getting his revenge on you and yours. And he had the money to do it, too. He had bank accounts in various names all around the world. Money the Sicilian authorities never touched. He hired a Vegas guy to keep tabs on you and Trina. He hired Stitch.”

  “Stitch MaGraw?” Reno asked.

  “You know him, right?” Mick asked.

  “Yeah, I know that asshole. He was slinging drugs last I heard.”

  “Still is. But he works for Oscar, too. And Oscar apparently picked the day and the time. There was no Muslim terrorist who blew himself up. That was a bullshit response by lazy Feds who didn’t know what the fuck they were looking at. A bomb was planted in that motherfucker. It was on timer. A phone rang, to be answered by his man in Vegas, and then Oscar gave the order.”

  “How do you know all of that?” Reno asked.

  “There’s a grainy scene where a guy answers the phone in the restaurant, and then walks outside. I recognized the guy. It was Stitch. He used to work for one of my rivals, so I’d know him anywhere. And I heard he and Oscar were communicating. So I looked closer at the guy on the phone, the guy who drove away. I got my people to do a side by side analysis of pictures we had of Oscar, and the guy who drove away. It was him. Every feature of his face and frame matched up.”

  “So Oscar Di Salvo was the guy the camera caught leaving the scene after making that phone call,” Reno said, remembering the tapes he had reviewed.

  “Right. He was decked down in middle-eastern garb. Then Stitch pressed the button. And the restaurant went up in flames.”

  They were all floored. “I’ll be damned,” Reno said.

  Sal was mystified too. He was a mob boss. A very powerful one. But even he didn’t have that kind of reach. “How did you know about the timer and the code word and all of that shit? You found Di Salvo?”

  “We haven’t found him yet. But I put two and two together. He made a phone call and drove away. Stitch received a phone call and walked out. That grainy video shows
Stitch. Our analysis shows Oscar.”

  Reno was floored. “So Stitch MaGraw is the link,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Stitch is Oscar’s Vegas contact.”

  “That’s what I think, yes.”

  “Then we need to find his ass so he can point us to Di Salvo,” Reno said.

  “I found him,” Mick said.

  As soon as he said it, Reno, Sal, and Tommy all stood up immediately. Jimmy rose, too. “You know where he is?” Reno asked. “Where the fuck is that fucker?”

  “He’s hiding in plain sight,” Mick said.

  “Where?” Reno asked, shocked.

  “He hangs out at that Perry Street nightclub. He should be there now.”

  Trina stood up. “When you find Oscar Di Salvo,” Trina said, “I want to be a part of the interrogation. I have to confront him.”

  “No way, Tree,” Sal said frowningly. “You know you can’t be a part of this.”

  “Why the hell not, Sal?” Trina asked. “It was my life he almost took. I saw all of those innocent people killed.” It was still heavy on her heart. “I want to confront that bastard as bad as you, Reno, and Tommy combined.”

  “I doubt that,” Reno said.

  “But I need to confront him, Reno,” Trina said. “I need to look that motherfucker in his eyes, too, and see his end for myself. Or I’ll still have nightmares.”

  Reno stared at her. In a lot of ways, Trina was as badass as he was. But she was also his wife, and the mother of his children. “You’re staying put,” he ordered.

  “But Reno!” Trina cried.

  “Your ass stays here,” Reno said bluntly. “I’ll confront him. I’ll look him in the eyes and see his end. You’re staying put until I get back.”

  “But I need to--”

  “Trina?” Reno was getting angry now. “It’s not up for debate. Your ass is staying here. Unless your ass wants an ass whipping.”

  Trina stared at Reno. No other man on the face of this earth would say those words to her without her reaching into her own bag of tricks and show his ass a thing or two. But she not only loved and respected Reno. He was also a man she feared. His rule was absolute in their house, despite her strength of character and independence, and he never hesitated to exercise that rule over her whenever she resisted him.

  Besides, Reno would handle that asshole Di Salvo. He never failed her yet.

  “Just be careful,” she said, to everybody’s surprise. Everybody except Reno.

  Reno leaned over and kissed her on the lips. Then he gave her a quick hug. And then he, Mick, Tommy and Sal, began to leave. Jimmy attempted to follow them, but Tommy and Reno both stopped his progression.

  Reno had his hand on Jimmy’s stomach. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked him.

  “You’re my VP now, James,” Tommy added. “You don’t make kill runs anymore.”

  “And you aren’t about to make this one,” Reno said. “We can handle it. You hold down the fort here.”

  Jimmy understood what they meant. But Trina was his stepmother, and a damn great one. He wanted his pound of flesh, too. But like Trina, he knew his father’s word was absolute. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  And the Gabrini men, and Mick Sinatra, left.

  After they left, Jimmy looked at Trina. “It’s not fair, is it?” he asked her.

  “No,” she said. “It’s not. But that’s your father.”

  “I’ll bet if Uncle Mick was my old man, he’d let me be a part of it. Teddy Sinatra is the boss of his underbosses, and he’s Uncle Mick’s son.”

  “And if Mick could have it any other way,” Trina said, “he wouldn’t have Teddy anywhere near his crime syndicate. But your father, thank God, is able to keep you out of it. And he’s going to keep it that way. Reno isn’t about to allow any of his children to be permanently caught up in that part of his life. Not you. Not even Dommi.”

  Jimmy frowned. “Not even Dommi? Are you joking? I see the day when Dommi is going to be telling Dad what to do!”

  Trina smiled. “I know y’all like to joke like that, but rest assured: Dommi will be sleeping in his grave before Reno allows him to tell him a gotdamn thing. Trust me on that.”

  Jimmy laughed. But then their brief moment of gaiety ceased, when they remembered what transpired earlier that day, and what the head of their household was truly about to undertake.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Porsche drove up to a crowded nightclub in northern Las Vegas. It was Reno’s car, but Tommy was driving. Reno sat in the front passenger seat, while Mick and Sal, two of the most notorious mob bosses in America, sat in the back. But neither one of them had any crew members with them. Reno had only one of his men there, and he was already in the club. Sometimes armies only got in the way. This was one of those times.

  “Stay back here, Tommy,” Reno said as Tommy pulled into the backside of the parking lot.

  Tommy pulled over into an empty space on the side of the lot. The club itself was nearly a hundred feet away, and the parking lot itself was packed with cars coming and going and many patrons hanging out laughing, drinking, and talking.

  Reno pulled out his cell phone and phoned his man inside.

  “Hey, Boss,” the man said over the phone.

  “Have you spotted him yet?” Reno asked.

  “Oh, he’s here alright. He’s supposed to be selling me a kilo.”

  “Where did he agree to make the exchange?”

  “At your Porsche,” the man replied. “I told him he should give my man behind the wheel the dope, and my man behind the wheel will give him his money. He’s upstairs getting the stash now. So tint up. I’ll blast you back when he’s heading your way.”

  Reno ended the call and immediately pressed the button that automatically added extra tint to his already tinted windows. Although it appeared to be an easy pickup, they were taking no chances. Mick and Sal got out and made themselves scarce in the thick of the outside crowds. It didn’t completely work, as both well-dressed, handsome gentlemen easily stuck out like a sore thumb and became instant eye candy for the ladies. But they knew how to use that attention, too. Both held conversations with several ladies at once and, in so doing, made certain that they appeared to be a part of the group, rather than the object of the group’s attention.

  Tommy and Reno, remaining in the car, pulled out their hardware, sat it on their laps, and waited.

  Tommy looked at his best friend. “I know how Trina’s doing,” he said. “How are you doing?”

  Reno ran the back of his hand across his eyes. “Not great since I found out that terrorist theory was a bunch of malarkey.”

  “I’m sure you figured it was all along. If a bomb goes off near any of us, we have to assume it was meant for us.”

  Reno nodded. “Yeah, I know.” But an agonized look appeared in Reno’s eyes. “It’s just that . . . I’ve put Trina through so much.”

  Tommy frowned. “What do you mean you put her through so much?”

  “How the fuck else am I supposed to say it, Tommy? None of that crazy shit she’s had to go through would have ever happened if she wasn’t my woman. Trina’s been through a lot! More than any other wife in our family.” He hesitated. “I’ve got some self-reflection to do.”

  Tommy would have laughed at the idea of Reno self-reflecting had he not realized the seriousness. “Break it down for me, buddy,” he said. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’ve got to change this shit, Tommy. I can’t keep putting her through this. If this shit doesn’t change, she’ll be better off without me.”

  “So what else is new?” Tommy asked.

  Reno looked at him. “Thanks a lot!”

  “Grace will be better off without me, too, and Gemma without Sal. And Lord knows Roz will be far better off without a fucker like Uncle Mick.”

  “Big Daddy Sinatra is making it work,” Reno said. “His wife and kids doesn’t have to endure half the shit our wives an
d kids do. They have normal shit going on.”

  “That’s because Big Daddy is a normal businessman in a small town with normal, small town problems. Our asses are all in big towns with big town problems. And, let’s face it, some of us have legit and not so legit situations to deal with on top of that.”

  “And the kind of enemies that won’t ever let us have any long-lasting peace,” Reno said in agreement. “And we all had the nerve to bring all of these children into our fucked-up world. And my stupid ass just had another one!” Reno exhaled as the burden of that new responsibility hit him hard. He hesitated. And then exhaled again. “It’s a lot,” he said.

  Tommy took Reno’s hand and squeezed it. When Reno ached, Tommy ached. It had always been that way. Tommy looked out of the window. “You can’t leave her, Reno,” he said bluntly.

  When Reno didn’t respond, and allowed for that naked quietness to roar like a lion, Tommy looked at him. He hated to go there, but he had to. All of them had issues with females. Not that any of them cheated, but all of them had so much baggage from their past relationships that it often caught up with them. Tommy could never imagine Reno ever cheating on his beloved Trina. But he had his issues, too. “Is there another woman, Reno?” he asked him.

  Reno frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Because I don’t want my wife in danger twenty-four-seven there has to be another woman? I don’t want my wife in danger. I don’t want my kids in danger. This shit is beginning to get to me, Tommy! I can hardly sleep at night knowing what kind of jeopardy I’ve put my family in.”

  Tommy knew he had to be as blunt as he could be. “It’s too late for that now, Reno. We made our beds. We married women we actually love and had children we adore. We bought all of that loveliness into our ugly world. We have to lie in the beds we made.”

  Reno looked at Tommy. Nobody told it to him with such realness the way Tommy did. Other than Big Daddy Sinatra, Tommy was the wisest man he knew.

  He was about to tell him so, but his cell phone rang. He answered quickly. “Yeah?”

  “He’s coming out,” said Reno’s man inside the club.

  Tommy was already calling Sal. Sal answered just as they saw that drug dealer Stitch McGraw walk out and head for Reno’s Porsche. “I see him,” Sal said, and ended the call.