Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life
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Authors: Mallory Monroe
MICK
SINATRA
FOR
ONCE IN MY LIFE
BOOK
ONE
By
MALLORY
MONROE
Copyright©2015
Mallory Monroe
All rights reserved. Any use of the materials
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This novel is a work of fiction. All
characters are fictitious. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are
completely accidental. The specific mention of known places or venues are
not meant to be exact replicas of those places, but are purposely embellished
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INTERRACIAL
ROMANCE SERIES
BY
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
MALLORY
MONROE:
THE SINATRAS OF JERICHO COUNTY
SERIES IN ORDER:
BIG DADDY SINATRA
THERE WAS A RUTHLESS MAN
BOOK ONE
BIG DADDY SINATRA 2
IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU
BOOK TWO
BIG DADDY SINATRA 3
THE BEST OF MY LOVE
BRENT SINATRA
ALL OF ME
BOOK ONE
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND
SERIES IN ORDER:
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND 2:
HIS WOMEN AND HIS WIFE
DUTCH AND GINA:
A SCANDAL IS BORN
DUTCH AND GINA:
AFTER THE FALL
DUTCH AND GINA:
THE POWER OF LOVE
DUTCH AND GINA:
THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
DUTCH AND GINA:
WHAT HE DID FOR LOVE
FOR THE LOVE OF GINA
BOOK EIGHT
THE MOB BOSS SERIES
IN ORDER:
ROMANCING THE MOB BOSS
MOB BOSS 2:
THE HEART OF THE MATTER
MOB BOSS 3:
LOVE AND RETRIBUTION
MOB BOSS 4:
ROMANCING TRINA GABRINI
A MOB BOSS CHRISTMAS:
THE PREGNANCY
(Mob Boss 5)
MOB BOSS 6:
THE HEART OF RENO GABRINI
RENO’S GIFT
BOOK 7
RENO GABRINI:
A MAN IN FULL
BOOK 8
RENO AND TRINA:
GETTING BACK TO LOVE
BOOK 9
RENO AND SON:
DON’T MESS WITH JIM
BOOK 10
MOB BOSS ELEVEN
THE WRONG ONE
BOOK 11
RENO AND TRINA
IN THE SHADOWS OF LOVE
BOOK 12
THE GABRINI MEN SERIES
IN ORDER:
ROMANCING TOMMY GABRINI
ROMANCING SAL GABRINI
TOMMY GABRINI 2:
A PLACE IN HIS HEART
SAL GABRINI 2:
A WOMAN’S TOUCH
TOMMY GABRINI 3:
GRACE UNDER FIRE
SAL GABRINI 3:
HARD LOVE
SAL GABRINI 4:
I’LL TAKE YOU THERE
TOMMY GABRINI 4:
DAPPER TOM BEGIN AGAIN
SAL
GABRINI 5:
UNTIL YOU COME BACK TO ME
ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE
FROM MALLORY MONROE:
DANIEL’S GIRL (ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN)
ROMANCING MO RYAN
ROMANCING HER PROTECTOR
ROMANCING THE BULLDOG
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE
FROM
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
KATHERINE CACHITORIE:
LOVERS AND TAKERS
LOVING HER SOUL MATE
LOVING THE HEAD MAN
SOME CAME DESPERATE:
A LOVE SAGA
ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE:
A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP
YVONNE THOMAS
AND
BACK TO HONOR:
A REGGIE REYNOLDS
ROMANTIC MYSTERY
JT WATSON
ROMANTIC FICTION
FROM
AWARD-WINNING
AND
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
TERESA MCCLAIN-WATSON:
DINO AND NIKKI:
AFTER REDEMPTION
AND
AFTER WHAT YOU DID
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The
Gulfstream 650 flew out of the clouds with a thunderous entry, and touched down
and taxied until it came to a rolling stop.
Across the airstrip tarmac, Danny Padrone was waiting.
He stepped out of the front passenger side of
the Cadillac limousine, and buttoned his suit coat.
He was the muscle, the man who always met the
plane, and today was no exception.
Carissa Caine got out from behind the wheel and opened the driver’s side
back passenger door.
This was her first
time working for the great man, but Danny had schooled her well.
She was an experienced driver.
She chauffeured rich guys all across
Pennsylvania for nearly a decade.
She
was ready for this.
“So Danny?”
She yelled across the hood of the limo when the noise of the jet quieted
down.
“You’re tight with him or
what?”
Danny ignored her.
“Where you think he’s been all this time?”
She was on
loan from Teddy Stefani’s crew, and had a solid reputation working for
her.
But she also had a mouth on her
that Danny knew his boss was not going to appreciate.
Teddy Stefani had no problem with it.
Mick Sinatra didn’t play that.
“Say,
Danny,” Carissa tried again, “where you think he’s been all this time?”
Danny looked
at her with a disgusted look.
“What are
you asking me something like that for?
How should I know where he’s been?
He’s been on business, that’s where he’s been.
And it’s none of your fucking business.”
Carissa
didn’t allow anybody to talk to her that way.
“It’s not serious like that though,” she responded.
But Danny
couldn’t disagree more.
“It is serious
like that!
It is serious.
Now I’m telling you, Riss, this is not like
those other jobs. Mick Sinatra will just as soon slit your throat than
entertain your questions.
Your job is to
open that door and drive this vehicle.
Leave everything else to me.”
“But what
you’re saying makes no sense, Danny.
You’re trying to tell me I can’t ask the man how his trip was, or how is
he feeling?”
“None of
that,” Danny said forcefully.
“You can’t
ask him none of that shit!”
Then he
frowned.
“What’s with you, anyway?
I told you this job is different!”
Carissa
smiled.
She couldn’t take Danny
seriously even if she wanted to.
She
knew Mick “The Tick” Sinatra was the real deal from way back, but she was
willing to bet any amount of money that even he wasn’t as dire a character as
Danny made him out to be.
Nobody
was.
As far as she was concerned Danny
was just a nervous nelly and had been for as long as she knew him.
Then Danny
quickly stood erect.
“He’s coming,” he
said, as he nervously smoothed down his windblown hair.
Carissa
looked at Danny and shook her head.
What
a wuss, she thought.
Then she looked
toward the jet as a tall figure emerged from out of the cabin and stood at the
top of the steps.
She saw a dashing male
in a flowing white ankle-length coat, a black turtleneck shirt and black
trousers, his thick hair blowing in the wind, as he began descending the
steps.
She’d heard of Mick Sinatra, but
this was her first time seeing him in person.
“That him?” she asked.
Danny
nodded.
“That’s him.”
“Damn,
Danny.”
She was smiling.
“I was expecting some decrepit old coot.
You didn’t tell me he looked that good!”
Danny
frowned and looked at his subordinate.
“What do I look like telling you that for?
Watch yourself, Riss.”
“Don’t worry
about me,” Carissa said.
“I know how to
handle myself.
I’ve been driving around
rich mafia types all my career.
I know
what they like.”
But Danny
was already shaking his head.
“Not
him.
You don’t know shit about him.
He ain’t those dirty old men you’re used to
chauffeuring around.
He ain’t Teddy
Stefani.
He don’t want shit from your
body, and to him you’re just another pretty face.
You open this door and then close it, and
then get behind that wheel and drive.
No
conversation.
No
isn’t the weather lovely
.
None of that shit.
You
drive.
You hear me, Riss?”
“I hear
you.
I’m sure he hears you too loud as
you’re talking.
I got it.
He’s subhuman.
Treat him that way.
Got it.”
Danny said
something more to her, but Carissa wasn’t listening.
She was too busy checking out the man in
black and white.
He walked slowly, but
he didn’t lumber along.
He floated
along, as if he was gliding, as if every stride he took became three steps in
one.
And when he arrived at the driver
side passenger door, and Carissa saw those gorgeous green eyes, she jerked her
long blonde hair back, smiled her high wattage smile, and did what she knew how
to do.
“Welcome
back, boss,” Danny said from the opposite side of the car.
Mick Sinatra
didn’t respond. Which didn’t bother Danny.
He was accustomed to it. But as Mick bent his tall body and began to
climb into the backseat of his limousine, Carissa couldn’t help herself.
She wasn’t accustomed to rudeness and was
never going to be.
“I’m Carissa Caine,
Mr. Sinatra,” she said.
Danny
stretched his eyes in amazement, stunned that she would go there.
Mick stopped his progression into the
vehicle, stood back up, and looked, not at Carissa, but at Danny.
“Mr. Stefani
sent her over, sir.
To keep it in the
family.
Deuce took ill and we needed a
driver on short notice.”
“And that’s
me,” Carissa said, undaunted.
“Your new
driver.”
Mick looked
at her, but she had supreme confidence.
She never drove for a guy she didn’t fuck, and this guy was not going to
be any different.
“I may look young, but
I’ve got a wealth of experience.
Driving
experience, that is,” she added, with another smile and a coquettish jerk of
her hair.
Mick Sinatra
looked at her with such a chilling look that it made her want to take a step
back.
But she held her ground.
Mick held
his too.
“And I need this information
why?”
She
swallowed hard.
The thought that he
would just as soon slit her throat than answer her questions, as Danny had
warned her, suddenly didn’t seem as implausible as she had assumed.
“Since I’m a new face, sir, I thought you’d
want to know who I am.”
“Daniel told
me who you are.”
She
swallowed again.
“Why, yes, sir.
Yes, he did.
But I wanted to let you know also.
I’m your driver for today.”
“Then shut
the fuck up and drive,” Mick said bluntly, showing no compassion whatsoever.
He stared at her a moment longer, attempting
to decide if he should leave her where she stood.
But Teddy wouldn’t send over anybody less
than the best.
He got into his
limousine.
Carissa’s
heart fell through her shoe.
“Yes, sir,”
she said, and closed the door.
As she stood
there, still struck by that look she saw in his unfeeling eyes, Danny angrily
motioned for her to get her ass behind the wheel.
When she did so, he hurriedly got onto the
front passenger seat beside her.
And
waited for their boss to pronounce his displeasure.
But Mick didn’t say a word.
Maybe because the car phone began
ringing.
Maybe because he didn’t give a
fuck.
Danny could never tell with Mick.
“Speak,”
Danny said when he answered the phone.
Mick folded
his legs and sat quietly in the backseat.
Carissa glanced through the rearview mirror, looking at him, as he sat
with such a peaceful demeanor it confused her.
No fumbling with his smartphone.
No flipping through papers.
Nothing.
He seemed perfectly
content to enjoy the peace and quiet without interruption.
Until Danny had no choice but to interrupt.
He hung up
the car phone and pressed the intercom button quickly.
“We’ve got trouble, boss.”
That
pronouncement along caused Mick to look toward the front of his limousine.
“And what might that be?”
“A hit.”
“Who?”
“Flo’s
compound.”
Carissa,
still looking through the rearview, saw a slight, but noticeable reaction on
Mick’s face.
Was this Flo his woman?
“How many
fell?” Mick asked.
Danny turned
his face toward the back of the limo.
It
was only then could Mick see the terror in his man’s eyes.
“Everybody, sir,” Danny said.
Mick’s heart
slammed against his chest.
He pointed
forward.
“Go,” he ordered.
Danny looked
at Carissa.
“Drive,” he ordered, and
Carissa proved why Teddy Stefani sent her over in the first place.
She drove.
She took direction from Danny and flew through the streets of
Philadelphia as if she was driving a bat out of hell.
She knew when to keep it fast and when to
play it safe.
She managed what should
have been a twenty-five minute drive in less than fifteen.
Cars were
everywhere outside of the secluded estate, and as the limo approached the
broken down security gate, Mick could see the guards he employed lying dead in
pools of their own blood.
Other guards
were there now, Mick’s men also, in case the attackers decided to return.
But despite
the carnage outside, Carissa was experienced enough to know that the guards
were not the concern.
This Flo person
and everybody else inside that house were.
That was why she didn’t slow down.
That was why she sped past the dead guards and the new guards and drove
up to the front double doors of the expansive, secluded home.
Carissa knew
to stay put, with the motor running, in case they required a fast getaway.
Mick and Danny hurried out of the
vehicle.
Carissa was surprised to see
that Mister Cool Sinatra already had his gun drawn, as if he didn’t rely on
anybody else to do his fighting for him, as he made his way up the numerous
steep steps that led to the front door.
Four of
Mick’s men were waiting at the doors too, all fully armed with automatic
weapons: his personal army of protection.
One of them hurriedly flung open the double doors, and Mick walked in.
Mick was
cautious as he and his men entered Flo Durant’s home.
Nothing was amiss at first glance.
Not even a vase was overturned.
But Leo Barone, Mick’s senior security chief,
stood at the top of the stairs.
“They’re up
here, boss,” he said.
But Mick
ignored him.
He, instead, began walking
around the great room downstairs with a calmness his men could not share.
They were ready to run, to turn this place
upside down, to find out what exactly happened here.
But Mick Sinatra ran this show.
And he was more interested, not in what
happened, since it already happened, but why.
He moved
slowly, looking at corners, at cushions, at little things no one else would
have given a second thought.
His men
looked at each other.
The bodies were
upstairs.
What was he doing down
here?
But they had nothing in their
arsenal that could persuade their boss to get a move on.
They looked upstairs, at Leo.
But Leo had next-to-nothing persuasively
himself.
He might be their boss, but
Mick was his boss, and Mick didn’t allow anybody to take liberties with
him.
They were going to just have to
wait.