Tommy Gabrini: The Grace Factor (22 page)

“And they’re coming to our hospital?”

“They’re on their way as we
speak.
 
This is being classified as an
organized crime hit so the FBI are on their way too.”

“The FBI?”

“Absolutely!
 
There may be retaliation and all kinds of
repercussions.
 
This is big!”

The doctors hurried out of the lounge
and onto the elevator while the director made a quick stop at the nurse’s
station.
 
“Contact Security,” he ordered
the head nurse.
 
“Tell Phil to get every
available guard on his staff in the ER stat.
 
No exceptions.”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse replied, and
immediately picked up the phone.

It would be three am the next morning
when Tommy would give the all-clear and Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, fronted by a
convoy of security that was five SUVs deep, arrived at the Seattle hospital
with Trina, Gemma, Roz, and Grace.
 
Grace
was there for support and comfort for the stricken ladies, but she was also
there to make certain Tommy was holding up alright.

But when Big Daddy saw the level of
security
at
the hospital, he could
hardly believe it.
 
You would think the
President of the United States had been admitted.
 
Reno’s men were in town.
 
Sal’s men were in town.
 
Mick’s men were in town.
 
Tommy’s men were all around.
 
The hospital, inside and out, was surrounded
with Gabrini and Sinatra strongmen.
 
It
was insane.

The ladies got out of the SUV and
were quickly, with Big Daddy leading the way, ushered into the hospital.
 
All three men were out of surgery, were still
under anesthetic but recovering, and had been placed in a room together on an
unfinished wing of the sizeable hospital.
 
It was the only way the staff could manage the onslaught of security,
the FBI, the local police, and the media all at the same time.
 
Because of who had been shot, because of word
that Reno Gabrini, the owner of the PaLargio, and two, not one, but two reputed
mob bosses were down, the media had been out in force too.
 
But now it was three a.m., the media, the
cops, and even the FBI, who questioned Tommy at length, had long gone.
 
Quiet reigned, and Tommy guarded that room,
and those men, with his life.

When Trina and Gemma and Roz ran in,
each hurrying to the bedside of their respective husband, and Big Daddy joined
Roz at Mick’s bedside, the surgeons came in to give each one a status
report.
 
The message was general: that
all three would pull through, but there were individual notes too.
 
Tommy pulled Grace aside while the doctors
conferred with the wives, and pulled her into his arms.
 
It was the first sense of security he had
felt since the shooting.
 
When they
stopped embracing, anguish was in his big, tired eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

“I’m absolutely fine,” Grace said,
placing a hand on the side of his face.
 
“Don’t you dare worry about me.
 
It’s you I’m concerned about.”

Tommy ran his hand through his
hair.
 
“I’m okay,” he said.
 
“What about Destiny and the other children?”

“They’re all good.
 
Between all of those Sinatra young guns and
Jimmy Mack, not to mention the army of men you have surrounding the safe house,
they’re just fine too.”
 
Then she smiled.
 
“Reno’s youngest son has placed himself in
charge of the children.
 
He’s just a baby
himself, but he says he’s in charge and for none of us to worry.”

Tommy smiled.
 
“That’s Dommi,” he said.
 
Then his look turned anguished again as he
looked over at the downed men.

“What did the doctors say?” Grace
asked.

“They all should pull through.
 
Reno got the worst of it, but they all are
expected to make it.”

“Thank God,” Grace said.

Then Branson Nash knocked once.
 
Big Daddy, who had left Mick’s side and was
now guarding the door, allowed him passage in.
 
Branson motioned at Tommy.

“I’ll be back, babe,” he said to
Grace, and kissed her on the lips.

Grace made her way over to the other
wives, to offer them comfort, as Tommy, Branson, and Big Daddy stepped out into
the hospital corridor.
 
Tommy was anxious
because he could tell Branson had news.

“What is it?” he asked him.

“None of the guys we killed were
local.”

“None of them?” Tommy asked.
 
“Usually an out-of-town hit would have local
hired guns with them.
 
Unless they were
the ones in that ambush car that got away.”

“It’s possible,” Branson said, “but
here’s the thing, boss: it wasn’t an out-of-town hit.”

Tommy frowned.
 
“What do you mean? If it wasn’t local, what
are you saying?”

“We were able to ID every one of
those fallen fuckers.
 
And everyone is
European.”

Tommy was surprised.
 
“European?”

“Not one, and I mean not one is from
the United States.
 
They were all here on
passports.
 
Claiming to be on vacation.”

Tommy was thinking now.
 
He began pacing.
 
An army of men were in the corridor too,
guarding the hospital room itself, and even they were surprised by the news.

Big Daddy Charles Sinatra looked at
Branson.
 
He had stark bright eyes that
showed his emotional drain too.
 
“European hit men,” Charles said.
 
“How unusual is that?”

“Very unusual,” Branson said.
 
“Like never happens unusual,” he added.

“Then why would Europeans want to
take out our family?” Charles asked Tommy.
 
“Could it be business-related?
 
I
know Mick has a lot of overseas business activities.”

“Yeah, Sal and I do too.
 
And Reno’s corporation has a lot of overseas
traffic.”
 
Then Tommy stopped in his
tracks.
 
He looked at Branson.
 
“Where did they come from?
 
Where in Europe?”

“Naples, according to the passports
we confiscated at the scene.”

It wasn’t Dubai, his last known
location, Tommy thought, but it was Europe.
 
Word was he had made it to Europe.
 
Tommy hurried back into the hospital room.
 
Charles and Branson hurried in behind him.

“Gem,” Tommy said with a wave of the
hand, and Gemma, seeing the urgency on his face, made her way over to him.

“Yes, Tommy, what is it?” she asked.

“What do you know about Carmine
Fontaine?”

“Who?”

“Karen’s brother.
 
Remember Karen?
 
The woman who was in love with your
sister.
 
The woman who tried to take me
out?
 
The woman whose brother nearly did
take me out?”

“No, I know who you mean,” Gemma
said.
 
“But you think her brother could
be involved in something like this?”

“He was involved in that ambush in
Chicago.
 
Hell yeah, I believe it.
 
And the shooters, at least the ones we were
able to take out, were all Europeans.
 
All from Naples.
 
We tracked
Carmine down as far as Dubai, but he got away.
 
He was last thought to be somewhere in Europe.
 
And since he’s Italian, Naples sounds
reasonable.
 
Have you heard anything?”

“No,” Gemma said, thinking as she
shook her head.
 
“Not a thing.
 
But you think he’s got something to do with
this?”

“I’ve got a hunch.
 
One I intend to look into.
 
But thanks.”

“Wish I could be more help,” Gemma
said as she made her way back to watch over Sal.
 
Tommy called over Grace.

Grace hurried to his side.
 
“What’s happened?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” Tommy said, holding
her arm.
 
“But I have to make a run.
 
You want to stay here with the ladies, or go
back to the safe house?”
 
He wanted her
back at the safe house, with their daughter, but he was learning.
 
She had a right to make up her own mind.

“The safe house,” she said.
 
“I know the children are in good hands, and
well protected, but I want to be there with Destiny.
 
I just needed to make sure you were holding
up okay.”

Tommy smiled and squeezed her arm.
Then a frowned look appeared on his face as he continued to absently squeeze
her arm.
 
“Some deal you got,” he
said.
 
“You marry me one minute, and in a
shootout the next.
 
I’m some prize.”

“Yes, you are,” Grace said
heartfelt.
 
“And don’t you forget it.”

Tommy smiled.

“But where are you headed?
 
You know who did this?”

“I have some idea.
 
One of the guys we hit is still
breathing.
 
I want to see what he knows.”

Grace understood.

“Say your goodbyes to the ladies,” he
said to her.
 
“I’ll drop you off.”

The ride to drop Grace off was a
quiet drive as Tommy wrapped his arms around Grace and Grace snuggled against
him.
 
Four SUVs followed them.
 
Two in front, and two in back, as the
heightened security continued.

Grace looked up at Tommy and saw the
strain on his face.
 
“You know who’s
responsible for this, don’t you?”

Tommy nodded.
 
“I think so.”

“Who?”

“A gangster by the name of Carmine
Fontaine.”

“Did he intend to take everybody
out?”

“Not Mick.
 
Mick wasn’t involved.
 
But he wanted Reno and Sal for sure.”

“Why?”

“His sister was killed when she tried
to take me out.
 
Reno killed her, but
there were rumors that Sal had actually pulled the trigger.
 
He wanted to take them both out, just in case,
is what I’m guessing.”

“What about you?”

“He already tried to take me out,”
Tommy said.
 
“If it wasn’t for Liz, he
would have succeeded.”

Grace had heard about that awful
night in Chicago.
 
She was eternally
grateful to Liz.

“But I don’t think this hit was about
that,” Tommy said.
 
“I think this was
about avenging his sister’s death.
 
And
then again, I may be wrong.
 
This may not
have anything to do with that bastard.
 
But I’ll find out.”

Then he looked at Grace.
 
“Welcome to the family,” he said to her.

Grace smiled.
 
“I’m proud to be a Gabrini, Tommy.”

“Even on nights like this?”

“Especially on nights like this.
 
You didn’t do anything to them.
 
They brought this fight to you.
 
Am I supposed to be upset that you’re fighting
back?”
 
She shook her head.
 
“No.
 
Because the safest place for me and my child is with you and your
family.
 
I know that now.
 
I was with Ed.
 
I wasn’t with any gangsters.
 
I was with a respected neurosurgeon. How safe
was that?”

Tommy understood exactly what she
meant.
 
He placed his arm around
her.
 
“You won’t regret it, Grace,” he
said.
 
“And if you do, if this gets too
hot for you, I’ll carry you.
 
You hear
me? I’ll carry you through.”

“And if it gets too hot for you,”
Grace said.
 
“I’ll carry you through.”

Tommy smiled.
 
And then he laughed, snuggling her closer
against him.
 
Grace laughed too.
 
His laughter encouraged hers.

He was in bad shape by the time Tommy
arrived, but he was still alive.
 
Tommy
walked around the room with his hands in the pockets of his tux, and his bowtie
skewed sideways.
 
His hair was a mess, almost
as wild as Reno’s hair, and his face sported a five-o-clock shadow.
 
But every one of his men in that safe house
were still amazed at how great he looked.
 
And how firmly in control he was of this horrific situation.

Tommy finally stopped walking, turned
the chair around that was placed in front of the perp, and straddled it.
 
He rested his elbows on the back of the chair
and stretched his arms forward, his Rolex gleaming.
 
He was a patient man.
 
But his slow, deliberate style was trying the
patience of every man in that house.