CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

You could hear a pin drop in that room. Mick and Charles were leaned against the desk, their arms folded, their legs outstretched. Charles looked as if he’d just loss his dog and couldn’t decide if he was angrier about the loss itself or about who caused the loss. Mick looked pensive, as if he was still taking his own counsel and unable to communicate the harsh reality that had slapped him in the face.

Seated in front of them were all of the principals: Reno, Sal, and Tommy Gabrini. Teddy Sinatra. And Monk Paletti and Trevor Reese. All of Charles's sons were at the mansion, too, but he refused to allow them to be involved in any way, shape, or form with this messy, craven, oftentimes incoherent to him side of the family business. His sons, and their families, were all in the game room with the younger set. They didn’t like it. Especially not his oldest son Brent, who was the chief of police in their hometown, or Bobby Sinatra, who was the mayor of their hometown. But unlike their cousins and kinfolk, their father’s word was the final word in their family and there was no arguing the point or going against it. They did what they were told.

But those who had no choice in the matter and were forced to be in that room simply because they were the heads of the families, were waiting anxiously to know why their entire families had to be flown to this place literally days before Christmas, and without an explanation. What on earth could be this urgent?

But Mick, who still seemed buried in his own thoughts, remained silent, as if he was trying to find the words to explain. Which was so unlike him that they knew it had to be far worse than they thought it was.

It took several more minutes of silence as nobody was willing to rush Mick and tick-off Mick the Tick before he finally opened his mouth. He was still looking down, seemingly at his expensive Italian leather shoes, although they all knew the last thing on that man’s mind were any shoes, as he spoke. “I’m only going to say this once,” he said to them. “Get the wives in here. They need to hear this.”

Teddy stood up. “Ash and Carly too?” he asked his father.

But Charles and Monk said no at the exact same time. Monk was Ashley’s husband and Ashley and Carly were Charles’s adopted daughters. “My daughters aren’t going to hear any of this shit,” he added.

“Right,” Monk agreed.

It went without saying to Trevor. He kept Carly as far away from this part of his life as he possibly could. That was why he said nothing. Teddy went to get the ladies.

Roz, Trina, and Jenay were super-anxious to hear what all the fuss was about beyond the breach at the mansion on yesterday. Gemma wanted details, too, but she would never be as gun-ho about that kind of drama the three older ladies were. And Grace just wanted to make sure Tommy was okay. But Nikki was still outside shoring up security with Robby Yale and Teddy didn’t see the need to bring her in. Security was far more important at a time like this. He’d update her later.

Because the couples still had issues that needed to be resolved, none of the ladies, except for Grace and Jenay, sat with their husbands. Jenay, who sat on the desk beside Charles, immediately noticed his foul mood. “You okay?” she asked him.

The look he gave to her made clear he was not. “Oh boy,” she said as she rubbed his arm and then looked to Mick, the way they all were looking, to hear what he had to say.

Mick looked out at the family. Even in that room, where the heads of the families were supposed to be the shining stars for everybody else to follow, there was still division and tension. They had so much to work out. And now this.

But he could delay it any longer. His legs remained outstretched as he leaned against the desk, his arms remained folded, but he was now staring them dead in the eyes. “I thought the person responsible for the breach yesterday on this property was a man by the name of Nails Rosetti.”

“What are you talking, Pop? What do you mean you thought it was Nails. Those guys worked for Nails.”

“You knew the guys?” Reno asked him.

“No. Nobody knew’em. Nails always hired freelancers. But we saw his handiwork.”

“Who the fuck is Nails?” asked Trevor Reese.

“A particularly nasty character that gets his jollies by de-nailing his victims before killing them,” said Teddy. He and Monk were best friends. “And he always leaves a witness to tell the story. Or to spread his fame. He’s notorious for that too.”

“Some notorious,” said Reno. “I never heard of him. You ever heard of him, Frankie?”

“Never.”

“What about you, Sal, and you Tommy?”

“Nope,” said Tommy. And Sal shook his head.

“Even Sal Luca, who’s almost as big as Uncle Mick, never heard of his ass,” said Reno. “And we’re supposed to be scared of this motherfucker?”

“Just because you never heard of him doesn’t mean he’s not a force,” Teddy warned. “He is a force. I’ve had to deal with his ass in the past. He can do a lot a damage to our guys. And to us,” he added.

“Okay he’s a force,” said Reno. “A sick motherfucker who likes to take off people’s nails, but a force. I got that. But so what? Some fucker I never heard of supposed to be make us stop our lives and bow down to him?”

“You’re missing the point as usual, Reno,” Trina said to her husband. “Uncle Mick didn’t say Nails was responsible. He said he thought Nails was responsible. So shut up and listen.”

Some in the room couldn’t suppress their snickering. They’d already heard, and most of them witnessed, how Trina beat Reno’s ass at that dinner table. They’d already heard how she grabbed hold of him and was hitting him senseless and wouldn’t let him go. It would be years, decades, before tough guy Reno lived that down. He was already telling family members that the only reason she got any licks in at all was because he refused to fight back. Then he’d divert the conversation by telling them that Roz also beat up Mick. But nobody was buying that one.

“You don’t think it was Nails, Pop?” Teddy asked his father.

They all looked at Mick. All except Charles-who had a very grave look on his face. Mick had already told him. He already knew.

Mick exhaled, and then he spoke.” I thought the guys that breached this property yesterday had been in the clutches of Nails Trosetto and had been forced to carry out this attack and succeed, or something worse would befall them or their families or both.”

“That was what the guy that killed himself implied,” said Teddy. “He said they failed. He kept saying they failed before he blew his own brains out.”

“But you’re saying it wasn’t Nails?” asked Monk.

“No,” said Mick. “He’s not the one responsible for that attack.”

Teddy frowned. “What do you mean he’s not the one? We saw his handiwork, Pop. I sent a crew over to Europe to study the guys that lived. And they said it was the work of Nails Trosetto too. And the fact that he used guys we didn’t know was how he rolled. He’s not above kidnapping people’s families and forcing their husbands or fathers to do his dirty work. He used to do it all the time. How could it not be him? I saw for myself yesterday that every one of those guys that tried to attack us had no nails on their fingers, and no nails on their toes. Nails wanted us to see that it’s him. He left his calling card.”

“Sick bastard,” Reno said.

“It wasn’t Nails,” Mick said.

They all looked at Mick. “Then who was it, Uncle Mick?” asked Tommy.

Mick paused again as a wave of anguish appeared on his handsome face. He even wiped both hands down his face, as if even he seemed reluctant to say the name. To have to deal with this drama again.

Which caused them all to look puzzled. Who on earth could it be that sadistic that just the mention of his name would give Mick Sinatra pause?

“Who is it, Uncle Mick?” asked a baffled Sal. The suspense was killing him.

And Mick finally said the name. “Ignatius Zarbolinski,” he said.

And as soon as he said the name, every man in that room went still. The women looked at each other, more confused than enlightened, but they were taking their cues from the men. And every man in that room was stunned.

“That can’t be,” said a suddenly unsettled Reno.

“Impossible,” said an equally alarmed Sal.

“Are you telling us that Zarbo is still walking the face of this earth?” Tommy asked Mick.

“That's what I’m telling you, Thomas, yes.”

“But we took him out, Uncle Mick,” said a baffled Reno. “We took Zarbo out in the war of 2012. It nearly killed us all, but we got that bastard. I was there. We got that bastard. How could you think it’s him of all people?”

The ladies were now looking at each other. Even Reno, who always had an answer to every problem, seemed clueless. Which really worried Trina.

“He left his calling card,” Mick said.

“But I was there yesterday,” said Sal. “Those guys had no fingernails and no toenails just like Teddy said. How the fuck you gonna claim something like that was Zarbo's calling card, Uncle Mick? Zarbo was a carver. He left a Z on his victims. He always carved a Z on his victims. His ass wasn’t into nail mutilation.”

“The nails were the distraction,” Mick said. “They weren’t the point.”

“But where was the Z?” Sal asked. “It wasn’t there. How could you think it was Zarbo?”

“Because it was there. The Z was there.”

Even Teddy frowned at that. “What are you talking, Pop? There was no Z on those attackers. I didn’t see any Z anywhere on those pricks.”

“You saw the nails,” Mick said.

“Yes, I saw the nails,” said Teddy.

“I saw the palms,” said Mick. “It was faint. You’d miss outright if your mind was already made up. But my mind is never made up. That’s why I saw it. Because I couldn’t wrap my brain around why Nails would resurface. He was a force, but he was also smart, and he knew we’d destroy him if he showed himself again. He went underground and stayed underground. Resurfacing would make no sense.”

“What did you see in his palms?” Monk asked Mick.

“On first glance, nothing. Every one of those men’s palms looked as if they had the usual pink palm lines in their hands. But if you looked rather than glance, you’d see it as if you were looking at a reflection in a mirror. It was a Z.”

“But that could have just been a coincidence, Pop. The lines in my palms look like an M.” Teddy showed his palms.

“I checked out the man who tried to get away once that car flipped, and I checked out the men who remained in that car and died on impact. All of them were carved with Zs in the palms of their hands. That shit is no coincidence.”

All the men in the room were shocked. “I never had to deal with Zarbolinski,” said Monk, “but I heard horror stories about that man.”

“Same here,” said Trevor. “I knew he was killed, but I didn’t know you guys were involved.”

Sal began shaking his head. “If Zarbo’s alive after what we did to him...? Sal couldn't finish his sentence. He and Reno exchanged a glance. They were there when it happened. Mick and Tommy and Teddy were there too. They immediately understood the gravity.

But Monk Paletti wasn't there. He nor Trevor were in their inner circle, to that degree, in 2012. “What did you do to him?” Monk asked.

But nobody would answer him. Charles even got up and walked to the window, his back to them all. He was gravely troubled. They could feel it.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Mick,” said Monk, “but we have to know what we’re up against. What makes him so dangerous? What does he have on you? What did you guys do to him?”

“The better question,” said Monk, “is what did he do to them. because I know for a fac that the Sinatras and Gabrinis do not start shit. They just end it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Frankie,” Charles said to Monk, although his back was still turned to everyone.

They all looked at Charles. “What do you mean, Big Daddy?” Monk asked him.

Charles turned around. “Ignatius Zarbolinski hadn’t done shit to them,” he said. “Not a damn thing.”

Jenay frowned. “Charlie, what do you mean?”

“What I said. He didn’t do shit to them. Mick, my brother, wanted his territory and he took it. When Zarbo fought back because that’s what strong men do: they fight back, everything went sideways. He was winning the fight. He was killing Mick’s men left and right. He was decimating Mick’s syndicate.” He looked at Mick. “He was kicking his ass.”

Roz was staring at her husband as if she was holding her breath, because she knew what he was capable of.

“And what did Mick do?” Trina had the nerve to ask.

“The same thing a wounded animal would do. Zarbo hit Mick with explosion after explosion that rocked Mick’s world. Mick hit Zarbo back with a world that rocked Zarbo’s explosions.”

“Meaning?”

“With Reno, Sal, and Tommy and even his own son Teddy by his side because shit never goes down in this family without all of them having to get involved in it, they came for Zarbo as if the entire world was coming for him.”

Roz looked her husband in the eyes. They had so much unfinished business, especially after that video he laid on her, but right now she was worried about him. “What did you do to him, Mick?” she asked him.

But before Mick could respond, the Gabrinis did.

“We took out his entire syndicate,” said Tommy.

That didn’t shock anybody. It was expected that he would not have any organization left after going up against Mick the Tick.

“We took out his entire family,” said Sal, the regret still in his eyes as if it happened an hour ago. “The whole family. His children were grown, but they were his children.”

When Sal said children , that they had took out the man’s children, they all were shocked. That was not the Gabrini way. That was not the Sinatra way. And although Mick could go there, that was not even Mick’s way.

But that wasn’t all.

“We buried him alive,” said Reno.

And when Reno said those words, everything changed. It was no longer a matter of what they might do, but what they had to do. They knew they were in a brutal business. They knew it was kill or be killed more times than they would ever admit. But they also knew that if any man on the face of this earth had a compelling reason for retribution, it was Ignatius Zarbolinski, a man who once proved he was more than capable of taking on Mick the Tick.

Trouble, with a capital T, was at the door.