CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

When they entered his hotel suite, Roz could hear a voice talking in what she assumed to be a back office inside the luxurious suite, and she recognized it as the voice of Darryl Siskind, one of the biggest producers on Broadway.

"I think he's on the phone," said Patrick. "Come on back."

They walked into the back office that actually was a back bedroom, and as soon as they walked in, Roz realized that the voice was indeed that of Darryl Siskind. But he wasn't there. The voice was coming from a recording device.

Roz frowned. "What kind of bullshit is this?"

Patrick was standing behind her, and just as she was about to turn around to confront him, he grabbed her from behind, attempted to cover her mouth with a roll of duct tape she didn't know he had picked up, but she managed to bite his hand, forcing him to remove his hand from her mouth. Then she attempted to back-kick him in the balls with her boot, but she kicked his thigh instead. But that thigh kick was enough to bend him over and loosen his grip on her. She started screaming for help from the top of her lungs and tried to run out of the room, but he slung her back onto the bed.

But Roz kept fighting. She threw a vase at him. She threw the lamp at him. She threw the landline phone at him. But Patrick, now enraged that she would deign to fight back, kept coming after her. Much bigger than Roz, he slapped her and then turned her onto her stomach. With that duct tape still in his hand, he managed to lightly wrap the tape around her wrists.

But Roz was still feisty. And still trying to kick him and squirm away from him. But he finally removed her coat, tossing it to the floor, and then he overpowered her and duct-taped her wrists with much more tape.

"You scream and I'll kill you," he said to her.

Roz knew that if she screamed, he would only duct tape her mouth. She remained silent. But her silence in no way meant she was giving up as he straddled her body and then lifted her dress.

When he lifted her dress, he smiled when he saw how sexy her lingerie was. "I heard he liked strippers, and these panties proves that." He licked his lips. "I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this piece of fine, choice meat."

With beads of sweat all over his forehead, and his penis throbbing, he slowly pulled down her panties, thrilled by the view, and then happily unzipped his pants.

Panic set in for Roz as she could hear his breathing changing and she knew that sound because it was the same sound Mick made whenever he was about to enter her. But then she could hear his pants unzipping and she knew it was now or never. She knew she had to act. The problem was that she only had one option, and it wasn't a great one.

It took all she had within her because part of his weight was bearing down on her, but she managed to lift her booted foot and kick backwards as far and as hard as she could. Her kick landed against his back, and he squirmed with surprise and sudden pain and quickly rolled off of her body as if somebody else had kicked him.

As soon as he rolled off of her, Roz rolled off of that bed, scrambled down on the floor as she crawled as fast as she could to her overcoat. She knew her Glock was in her coat pocket. She knew she had to get that gun!

But as she was fumbling to get it out of her coat pocket with both of her wrists duct-taped together, panic tried to overtake her when she realized Patrick had gotten off of the bed and was hurrying to her.

She was now so nervous that she was making mistakes. The gun kept getting caught in the lining of her coat and she couldn't pull it out. But when he hurried to within feet of her, she managed to snatch out that Glock and hold it with both hands with her finger on the trigger, aiming it straight for his forehead. Her wrists were taped, and it limited her movement, but she had control of that gun.

Patrick was shocked that she would have a gun, and he stopped in his tracks.

"What you stopping for?" Roz angrily yelled at the man she thought was her friend. "Why you stopping? Keep coming, you bastard! Keep coming!"

Then they both heard the door of the hotel kick open and the sound of footsteps running to the back room. Mick, along with Roz's security detail, ran into the bedroom where they could still hear Darryl Siskind's voice on that recorder. When Roz saw that it was Mick and her detail crew, she was so relieved that her entire body slumped down.

And while Mick's capos subdued Patrick, Mick ran to Roz and fell to his knees where she sat on the floor.

"I'm okay," she said before he could ask her. "I'm okay."

But when Mick saw the slap mark on her face, and her disheveled hair, and her underwear down around her knees, and the duct tape, his heart dropped. He pulled up her panties immediately, and he pulled down her dress. Then he began removing the duct tape from her wrists. "What did he do to you?"

"He didn't do shit to me," Roz said defiantly. "Not that shit anyway. He tried to. That asshole tried to. But this Glock stopped him."

But behind her bluster, the reality of what could have been brought tears to her eyes. "This Glock stopped him," she said again as if she knew how close she'd come. And Mick, knowing it too, suddenly turned his entire being from relief that Roz was well to rage that the man who had tried to make her unwell was still alive and well himself.

He hopped to his feet. "Mick wait ," Roz pleaded, because she knew how otherworldly his temper could get once it was unleashed.

But Mick didn't even hear her. He hurried to the would-be rapist and threw him across the room so hard that the wall he slammed into dented into the shape of Patrick's body. And as soon as Patrick hit one wall, Mick grabbed him and threw him against another wall, denting that wall too. Then he hurried to Patrick and began punching him so hard that bones in his face were breaking with every massive blow. He was throwing punch after punch. Beating the man down to the floor. Then he stood him up, slammed him against the wall again, and began punching him even harder.

As his men marveled at how quickly he was hitting that asshole, as if he was a heavyweight championship fighter, and how hard he was hitting him, the legend of Mick the Tick was reborn. Every one of his men knew that their boss packed a punch unlike anybody they knew, but to hear bones breaking in Patrick's face, and to see blood gushing as he punched so unrelentingly mercilessly was a sight to behold.

But Roz scrambled to her feet and tried to stop Mick.

"We need to know why, Mick," she said anxiously. "We need to know why!"

But Mick wouldn't let up. Nobody came for his wife and lived to tell the story. Nobody !

But it wasn't until Roz cried out, " He's got to live to tell us why ," did Mick finally understand that Patrick was within seconds of death by his lethal hands. Was it just lust, as Mick had absolutely at first thought, or was Roz's suggestion the right one and there might be more to it than that? Patrick knew who Mick was. Their earlier encounter at that same hotel proved that. Nobody in his right mind, knowing who Mick Sinatra was, would dare to touch his wife unless something else was at stake. Something so major that it was worth such a deadly risk.

And when Mick realized it, too, he stopped his brutal assault.

Patrick, nearly dead, fell to his knees.

"Get up!" Mick ordered. "Get your ass up!"

Patrick hurried to his feet, relying on the wall to aid him, but every part of his face seemed disjointed, and his entire body felt as if it was on fire. There was no way he could stand. He started sliding right back down.

Mick motioned to his capos. They quickly grabbed Patrick and sat him on the bed. When he couldn't even sit up and tried to fall sideways, they held him upright.

Roz walked over and stood in front of Patrick, her arms folded. And although she liked him more than she respected him, she never dreamed in her wildest dreams that he'd be capable of this . She had a look that was as puzzled as it was angry. "Why would you try something like this, Patrick? Why? I've known you for years. We were supposed to be working together. Knowing who my husband is, why would you do something this stupid?"

"I need a doctor," Patrick said, barely able to speak.

But Mick backhanded him upside his already destroyed face. "Answer my wife!" he ordered.

"They made me do it."

Mick and his men were interested. Roz was puzzled. "Who made you do it?" she asked him.

"These Mafia guys. I don't know who they are. They told me I had no choice. They told me I had to do it or it would be me the next time."

"They told you that you had to rape my wife?" Mick asked.

Patrick nodded. "That's what they said. I need a doctor," he cried out, his face still stinging in unbearable pain.

"You'll need an undertaker if you don't answer questions," Mick said. "What mob guys would order you to rape my wife?"

"I don't know who they are. I don't have any ties to the mob. But they killed Marvin."

Mick frowned. "Who's Marvin?"

"His dog," Roz said. "He was like his child."

Mick rolled his eyes. People and these animal attachments baffled him.

"They said the same fate would happen to me if I didn't do exactly what they said," Patrick continued. "That's why I told Roz about this juicy role in this major production at the same time Sandra told her she wanted the part. It was my way in. It was how I would have a legitimate way of getting her up to my room."

"Was that your plan the night I showed up at the hotel?"

Patrick nodded. "Yes. That was the plan."

Mick exhaled. He wanted another round with that motherfucker. But Roz thought of something else. "Sandra was in on this too?" she asked Patrick.

"My first job was to get her in bed, and I did as soon as I hit town. Then I told her about the juicy starring role, but I told her all the actresses had to go through their agents to get an audition. That's when I told her to ask you about the part, but to not mention that we were seeing each other. She thought I was doing her a favor. She didn't know what I was up to."

Then he started crying. "I had no choice, Roz. They said they have worldwide power. They said I can't hide anywhere on this planet. I had no choice."

But Mick wasn't buying it. "You would rape my wife, knowing who I am, because they killed your damn dog and because they claimed to be powerful? What the fuck you think I am? Weak ?!" Mick shook his head. "You're selling that shit, but I'm not buying it."

Roz looked at Mick.

"Tell me the truth," Mick added, "or you'll join that damn dog."

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth," Patrick caved and said. After the beatdown, he had no reason to ever doubt Mick's word that he'd kill him. "They did kill Marvin and brought him to me. In a box they brought him to me. They did kill him. But . . ."

"But what?" Roz asked him.

"They also offered me money."

Mick froze. "Money? How much money?"

"I couldn't turn it down, Roz, I couldn't. They knew I was divorced and had all this debt riding me. And the gambling."

"How much did they offer you?" Mick asked impatiently.

Patrick could hardly breath through his broken nose. "Four."

"Four what?" Roz asked him. "Thousand?"

"Million," Patrick said.

Roz was floored. " Four million dollars ?"

But Mick and his capos were stunned. "Boss," said one of them. "It's the same thing Beppie said. You think there's a connection?"

Roz looked at Mick. "A connection to what?"

But Mick was looking at Patrick. "Do you know Beppie Gastone?"

Patrick shook his head. "I don't know anybody by that name. I told you I wasn't into that mob world. But I couldn't turn down that much money. My career was stalling. I had bills to pay. They already put the money in an offshore account in my name. It was too tempting."

The capos looked at Mick again. It was the same thing Monk Paletti had supposedly done for Beppie.

Mick pulled out his cellphone, googled Frankie "The Monk" Paletti, and clicked on a photograph of him. He showed that picture to Patrick. "Was this the man you met with?"

Patrick shook his head. "That guy right there looks like a gangster from a Humphrey Bogart movie."

"Is he the one?" asked Mick.

"No. I never saw him before. The guy that came to my hotel room was different. And more muscular."

"You said they had already put four million dollars in your bank account?" Roz asked.

"In an offshore account in my name. To access it, I just had to do what they told me to do."

"What did they tell you to do?"

"Rape her for every million dollars in that account. If I raped her two times, I'd get two million. Three times, three million. And so on."

Roz was still baffled. "But why would somebody tell you to rape me? How would that help them?"

Patrick hunched his shoulders. "Revenge maybe. I don't know. But I had to do it exactly the way they told me to do it."

"How would they know?"

"They put a camera up so they could witness it."

"A camera?" Mick asked as he and Roz both were floored. "Where?"

Patrick pointed to a clock on the dresser.

"That the only one?" Mick asked as he hurried to the dresser.

Patrick nodded.

Mick went over, grabbed a Kleenex from a box on the dresser, and then used the tissue to keep his fingerprints off of the clock as he disassembled it in a way that no more recordings could take place.

"Get a plastic bag," he ordered one of his capos. "I want our forensic guys to run the prints."

"Yes, sir," the capo said as he left the room.

"Where did you meet these people?" Mick asked Patrick. "And how many was it?"

"I only met one. He came to my hotel room. With Marvin's body in a box. But they said they were an organization."

"When they come?"

"Four nights ago."

"What time?" Mick asked.

"I need a doctor!"

Roz's detail chief slapped Patrick upside his head. "What time, you prick? Answer the boss."

"Around eleven that night," Patrick said, his pain seemingly getting worse.

"You're certain it was four nights ago?"

"Yeah, I'm certain. They killed my dog and had him in a box. How can I forget that day?"

Mick looked at the detail chief. "Tell the hotel manager I want the video," he said.

"I'm on it personally, Boss," the detail chief said and hurried out of the room.

"Keep him here," Mick ordered his other capo, "until you hear from me."

"But what about a doctor?" Patrick asked.

Roz took her booted foot and kicked him in the face, causing him to scream out in pain. "There's your doctor," she said.

Then Mick got her out of there.

But they didn't leave the hotel.