Read Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County) Online
Authors: Mallory Monroe
Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County)
BIG DADDY SINATRA
3
THE BEST OF MY
LOVE
(
The Sinatras of Jericho County series)
By
MALLORY MONROE
Copyright©2014
Mallory Monroe
All rights reserved. Any use of the materials contained in this
book without the expressed written consent of the author and/or her affiliates,
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illegal and strictly prohibited.
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This novel is a work of fiction. All characters are
fictitious. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are completely
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to be exact replicas of those places, but are purposely embellished or imagined
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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
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
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
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
COMING SOON:
BRENT SINATRA
BOOK ONE
SAL AND GEMMA:
BOOK FIVE
TOMMY AND LIZ:
YOU GIVE GOOD LOVE
Visit
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titles.
March 15, 1974
“Charles?”
“Um?”
“Charles?”
“What?”
“
Charles
!”
Young
Charles Sinatra finally opened his big green eyes.
And he frowned because his two siblings,
Jacqueline, called Sprig, and Michello, called Mick, surrounded his bed.
He closed his eyes again.
“Charles!”
Mick said as he shook him again.
Charles
reopened his eyes, his irritation even more pronounced.
“Quit shaking me!
What do you want?”
“Make
him stop.”
Charles
realized tears were in his baby brother’s eyes.
“Make who stop?”
“That
man.
He’s beating on Mommy.
Make him stop!”
Charles
had no clue what Mick was talking about, but without hesitation he tossed the
bedding aside, revealing his snow-white pajamas, and got up.
“Where is she?” He hurried out of his
bedroom door, and toward the stairs.
Sprig
and Mick ran behind him.
“The basement,”
Sprig said.
Charles
glanced back at her.
“The
basement
?” What in the world would their
mother be doing in the basement, and at this time of night?
But what would Sprig know?
Whereas Mick was six years younger than
Charles’s thirteen years, but acted older, Sprig was four years older than
Charles, but looked and behaved as if she was far younger.
Charles knew it was up to him.
But
that didn’t mean he was not scared.
He
was.
He didn’t know what he was about
to encounter.
But he hurried down the stairs
anyway.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked.
“Did he come home tonight?”
“He
came home,” Sprig said, hurrying down the stairs behind her brothers.
“But he was drunk as usual.
He tried to come into my room, claiming he
wanted to talk, but I locked the door the way you told me to.”
“Who
cares about that?” Mick asked angrily.
“We need to help Mommy!”
“Did
you try to wake Dad?” Charles asked as he and his siblings raced down the
stairs and through the living room.
“We
tried,” Sprig responded.
“After Mick
woke me and told me somebody was beating on Mommy, we tried to tell him what
was going on, but he pushed us away.
You
know how he is.
So we came to you.”
Charles
moved even faster, with his siblings running behind him just to keep up.
They weren’t frightened now.
They were certain he’d put a stop to it.
After Dad, it was young Charles who had the
authority in their home.
They
heard slapping sounds and screams as soon as they approached the door that led
down to the basement.
As soon as Charles
heard those sounds, he immediately knew what was really going on.
He looked at Sprig, shocked that she
didn’t.
“What
are you looking at me for?” Sprig asked.
“This is my first time hearing it too.
When Micky woke me up, I didn’t come down here. I tried to wake up Dad
like I told you.
I didn’t come down
here!”
Charles
exhaled and looked at his siblings.
Both
were small for their ages, and they both stared their frightened eyes up at him
as if he was some kind of superhero.
He
was not.
He was as scared as they were.
But because he was big and muscular for his
age, and they were pretty useless in times like these, he knew he had to play
the part. “You guys wait here,” he said.
And he pointed his finger.
“And
that means you too, Mick.”
Then
he opened the door and made his way down the dark basement stairs.
His father always went barhopping on Friday
nights and almost never came home until the next day, and sometimes not for
several days.
Based on the sounds
Charles was hearing, he was certain his mother had assumed this Friday night
would be no different.
But the fact that
she was not being beaten the way Mick had assumed, didn’t make Charles feel any
better.
Because he knew what was really
going on.
When
he made it to the bottom stair, he peeped around the extended wall.
And that was when he saw them.
The man was not beating on his mother, as he
had already suspected, but was fucking her.
So loud the bed was bouncing on its legs.
His mother was naked on her stomach.
The man was naked pounding into her ass.
They were filled with lust, not rage.
But when Charles saw it, when he saw the
extent of their nerve, he was filled only with rage.
His
rage overruled his good sense and he ran up to the bed, grabbed the man with
every ounce of strength he had, and flung him off his mother.
The man hit against the wall with a loud
thump, and tried to get back up, but Charles jumped down on him, beating him in
his face.
He had the element of surprise
on his side, youth and the element of rage in his veins, and he was
unstoppable.
He
heard his mother screaming and begging him to stop.
He heard her get out of bed and then he felt
her soft hand pulling on his shoulder, trying to stop him, but he could not
stop.
He even heard footsteps running
down the stairs, and he knew they were undoubtedly Sprig and Mick disobeying
him the way they usually did, but he didn’t even look their way. He was in a
zone all his own and he was going to make this man feel his disgust.
This motherfucker was bad enough to come here
and do something like this right under his father’s nose, then he was bad
enough to take a licking.
And Charles
gave him one.
A beat down unlike any
he’d ever given any human being before.
But
when the man was able to regain his bearings, and realized it was some big kid
that was attacking him, he attempted to begin his own beat-down.
And he almost succeeded.
He almost flipped the script on Charles, put
him on his back, and gain the advantage.
But
then Charles felt a stronger hand, not his mother’s soft, inconsequential one,
and it lifted him off of the man as if he were a feather and tossed him across
the room.
Charles hit against the wall,
but didn’t delay.
He was about to jump back
up and fight that intruder too.
Until he
realized it was no intruder, but his father: Salvatore Luciano Sinatra, the man
everybody called Luke.
His
father had a pump action shotgun.
And
was pointing it, not at Charles, but at the man who had just moments before
been on top of the world on top of his mother.
Charles felt relieved.
His father
would put the fear of God in that no account, disrespectful man.
And his father did.
But he didn’t bother to beat him down the way
Charles had expected.
Luke Sinatra was
not interested in beating anybody senseless the way his son had wasted his
energy trying to do.
Luke pumped his
shotgun, fired it, and put a bullet hole in the man’s chest the side of a ping
pong ball, and was done with him.
Charles
fell back against the wall in horror when his father shot that man.
His mother screamed and shook in horror as
she stood there, a sheet covering her naked body, when his father shot that
man.
And Sprig and Mick, who had come
down despite Charles’s warning, screamed and cried in horror too.
They had gone hunting through the backwoods
of Maine with their father countless times.
They knew he never missed.
But
they never saw him kill a man before.
But
just as the children were coming to the realization that seeing something like
this would turn their world upside down, Luke aimed that shotgun at his
unfaithful wife and put bullet after bullet after bullet through her chest too,
still shooting her even though she was undoubtedly dead, in unmistakable
payback for what she’d done.
Their
mother had fallen back onto the same bed she had just minutes before been
having the time of her life upon, and she was riddled with bullet holes.
But instead of screaming and crying the way
they did when their father shot the man, the children went mute when he shot
their mother.
They were too stunned to
scream or cry or to even breathe.
Their
mother was lifeless on the bed, and their world not only upside down, but
inside out.
Their mother was all they
had.
She was no prize, but she loved
them completely and compared to their father she was a saint.
They knew, even then, that their lives would
never be the same again.
Their
father stared at their mother.
The man
he had shot was dead too, but he didn’t give that man a second glance.
But he stared at his wife as his children
stared at him.
They didn’t know what he
was capable of.
He was a drunkard.
They knew that.
He was a liar and a thief-they knew that too.
But they didn’t know this man.
They didn’t know him at all.
Luke
felt tears began to stain his eyes as he stared at his dead wife.
He loved that gorgeous woman.
But instead of asking why did he have to kill
her, he kept asking himself why did she have to betray him.
Why did she make him do what he’d just done!
It was all her fault!
Then
he looked at Charles.
Of all of his
children, Charles was the only one he really gave a damn about.
He was the only one he never wanted to judge
him.
“They got what they deserved,” he
said to his stunned shitless thirteen-year-old son.
“There’s not a jury in this county that’ll
convict me.
They got what they
deserved.”
Then
Luke lifted that still smoking shotgun toward Charles.
Charles pushed back further against the wall
as if he could push through it, and Sprig and Mick placed hands on each other
in unbridled shock.
But their father was
not about to shoot Charles.
He was just
warning him.
“If a woman plays you for a
fool,” he warned his son, “you get rid of her.
You hear me boy?
I don’t care who
she is.
Get rid of the bitch!”
And
then Luke Sinatra looked one more time at his lifeless, still beautiful bitch
of a wife, and then he tossed the gun on the bed beside her and headed for the
stairs.
Sprig and Mick, horrified,
quickly moved away from the stairs, away from their now stranger of a father,
and ran to Charles.
They sat on either
side of their brother, and held onto him.
But their father turned out to be of no threat to them.
He was gone.
And
Charles finally exhaled.
He didn’t
realize he was not breathing until he exhaled.
He looked at his mother again.
And that man on the floor.
And
his mother again.
She did something
terrible.
She was unfaithful to their
father the way his father had been unfaithful to her their entire
marriage.
But she didn’t deserve
this.
Not even her lover deserved
this!
And Charles felt some kind of way
about that.
He felt as if it was so
wrong, and so depraved on every level that he couldn’t just sit there and let
it stand.
She was their mother, the
backbone of their family.
She was all
they had.
He could not let it stand!
So he
stood up.
He
went over to the bed, grabbed that shotgun, and hurried across the basement and
up to the main floor.
His siblings
looked at their mother, looked at the dead man and all of the blood everywhere,
and in their anguish and fear they ran behind Charles in a burst of self-preservation.
