Romancing Sal Gabrini 2: A Woman's Touch (20 page)

But
Gemma would have none of that.
 
She slung
his hands away from her.
 
“No,” she said
firmly.

Sal
looked at her, equally firm. “What did you say to me?”

“I
said no, Sal.
 
You tell me what this is
about.
 
Why did the FBI come here asking
you about those two men, the same two men that happened to have visited you at
my house?
 
What is this about, Sal?”

Sal
ran both hands through his hair.
 
“They
work for me.
 
Will and Chazz.
 
Now something’s happened to them.
 
I need to find out why.
 
All right?”

“And
you had nothing to do with it?”

Sal
grasped her arms again and looked her in her eyes.
 
“Nothing,” he said.

“Then
why are you so unhinged?
 
Do you think
their deaths could be a message to you?”

Gemma
was smart as a whip, Sal thought.
 
And
somehow he knew he was not going to be able to keep a woman like her out of the
loop for long.
 
But he was going to hold
off as long as he possibly could.
 
“Maybe,” was all he was willing to say about it.

Then
he exhaled, as if he knew this was only the beginning, and left the
bedroom.
 
At first Gemma just stood
there, and even contemplated running the bath the way he had ordered her.
 
But she wasn’t built that way.
 
Sweeping it under a rug, looking the other
way, pretending it was rain and not piss, no.
 
Not her.
 
She hurried behind
him.
 

He
headed for his home office and she followed him.
 
Once there, she stood at the entrance as he
walked behind his desk, pressed a button underneath his desk, and the wall
behind him slid open.
 
To Gemma’s shock,
a veritably arsenal of weapons were behind that wall.
 
But he didn’t grab a weapon.
 
He grabbed one of the dozen or so untraceable
cell phones on those shelves.

Then
he stepped out, and began pressing buttons on the phone.
 
When he looked up and saw Gemma standing
there, he didn’t try to make her leave.
 
She knew something was up.
 
She
was nobody’s fool.

She
walked further into the office and sat down in the wingback chair in front of
the desk.
 
Sal sat down behind the desk,
his arsenal still visible.

Scotty
Zumpano, called Zoo by all who knew him, came on the line.
 
“What’s up, Sal?”

“How
are you?”

“Little
under the weather, if you know what I mean.
 
Heat building up all around here.”

“Yeah,”
Sal said, glancing at Gemma.
 
“Around
here too.”

“You
too?
 
Who?”

“Feds.
 
They paid me a visit.”

“Damn,
Sal.
 
Must be serious shit.
 
Real reason or trumped up?”

Sal
glanced at Gemma again.
 
He hated that
she had to be around for any of this.
 
But at least Zoo knew how to speak in code.
 
“Trumped up,” he said as he walked toward the
window.

“Involving
who?”

“Will
Murelli and Chazz Charski.
 
They were
found dead, according to the agents.”

“Another
damn.
 
Who would wanna ice them?”

“That
I don’t know.
 
All I know is Chazz called
me talking about Danny Bronco was still above ground---”

“Danny
Bronco?” Zoo asked with surprise in his voice.
 
“Get the fuck outta here!
 
He was
whacked already.”

“I
know that,” Sal said.
 
“But that’s what
Chazz was claiming.
 
I tell him, oh,
yeah, get me pictures, motherfucker.
 
You
say Danny Bronco is still walking this earth, you get me pictures.
 
Then the next thing I know he’s dead?
 
And his body is here, in Seattle?”

“Seattle?
 
Dumped there no doubt.”

“No
doubt.
 
Him and Will both.”

“What
were they working on?”

“Locating
Patty.
 
Kira told me they found Patty,
but then all I hear about is Danny Bronco.”

“I
heard about Patty springing the joint.
 
With a mighty assist is what I’m hearing.”

“A
mighty assist?”
 
Sal asked.
 
That was news to him.
 
“From who?”

“Haven’t
heard that.
 
But I’m listening, I’m
snooping around.”

“Good.
 
I need to know what’s up with this new
development.”

“Will
and Chazz?”

“Yeah.
 
And who sprung Patty.”

“You
think it’s related?”
 
Zoo asked Sal.

Sal
nodded.
 
“You know it.”
 

Then
Sal’s desk phone began to ring.
 
Gemma
went around the desk to answer it.

“It’s
all related,” Sal went on, watching Gemma, “as far as I’m concerned.”

“Hello?”
Gemma said into the phone.
 

It
was William, Sal’s building manager.
 
“May I speak with Mr. Gabrini, please.”

“He’s
on the phone right now, William.
 
Perhaps
I can help you.”

“They’re
headed back up,” William said, and then the phone went dead.

Gemma
quickly hung up too.
 
Who was heading
back up?
 
Then she realized who and
jumped from her seat.
 
“They’re heading
back up, Sal,” she yelled, and knocking began on his front door just as she
said it.

Sal
killed the call with Zoo while Gemma reached underneath the desk and pressed
the button.
 
The wall closed his arsenal
of weapons back in.

“Good
job,” Sal said as he took the untraceable cell phone to the edge of the desk
and broke it in two.
 
He tossed it in the
wastebasket and then hurried to Gemma. He placed his hands on her arms.

“Listen
to me carefully,” he said to her.
 
“They’re going to take me with them this time.”

“No.”

“Yes.
 
They made whatever phone call they needed to
make, and they’re taking me in.”

“I’ll
go with you.”

“No,
you will not,” Sal said firmly.
  
“What
you will do is stay your ass right here and call Tommy.
 
He’s out of town, but he’ll get here.”

Gemma
nodded.

“I
didn’t do anything wrong here, sweetheart.
 
You hear me?”

Gemma
still wanted to demand to go with him, but she saw the pain in his eyes.
 
This turn of events was changing him.
 
“I hear you,” she said.
 
“Don’t worry about me.
 
But you need an attorney with you, Sal.
 
They can try to trap you into incriminating
yourself.”

Sal
frowned.
 
“Whatta you think I was born
yesterday? I know how to handle the Feds.
 
You just do what I told you to do.”

She
nodded.
 
“Okay.”

He
stared at her, even as the knocking on his front door intensified. He hated
that he wasn’t a choirboy, that he wasn’t that boring, professional man her
father wanted her to be with.
 
He wish he
could be simple and uncomplicated for her sake.
 
But that was wishful thinking and he knew it.
 
He kissed her on the lips.

“I’m
coming!” he yelled, as he hurried back up front.

SIXTEEN

Gemma had no intention of
sounding hysterical.
 
Her plan was to
remain the sophisticated sister she took
 
herself to be and do exactly as Sal had told her to do.
 
But as soon as she heard Tommy Gabrini’s
calming voice, she panicked.
 

“They took him!” she
blared in a voice as unsophisticated as they came.

“This is Gemma?” Tommy
asked.

“Yes!
 
They took Sal downtown.”

“The police?”

“The FBI.
 
They came to the house this morning and I
told them they either arrest him or leave because---”

“Gemma, sweetheart,”
Tommy said, his voice still calm.
 
“I
need you to relax, okay?”

Gemma exhaled.
 
“Okay,” she said.

“Now are you in Vegas
still?”

“No!
 
I’m here in Seattle, at the penthouse.
 
The FBI took Sal downtown to question him and
he told me to phone you.”

There was a pause on
Tommy’s end of the line.

“Is he going to be all
right, Tommy?
 
I wanted to go with him,
but he wouldn’t let me.”

“He did the right thing,”
Tommy assured her.
 
“Now how long has he
been gone?”

“They just took him.”

“Okay good.
 
Now, Gemma, dear, this is what I need you to
do.
 
Are you dressed?”

She looked down, at Sal’s
now wrinkled dress shirt and her shorts.
 
“Not really, no.
 
I haven’t even
showered yet.”

“Then go take a shower
and put on some clothes.
 
I’m here in
L.A. so according to my watch it should be a quarter after nine.
 
Right?”

Gemma looked around Sal’s
office.
 
She saw a clock on his desk.
 
“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Okay.
 
Thirty minutes from now, I need you to be
showered and dressed and downstairs, okay?”

“Okay.”

“A car will be waiting
for you.
 
An SUV.
 
You get in and do exactly as you’re
told.
 
Do you hear me?”

Gemma wasn’t accustomed
to being ordered around like this as if she was some child, but she felt so out
of her depth that she didn’t fight it.
 
“I hear you.”

“Okay.
 
I’ll talk to you in a little bit.”
 
And then he killed the call.
 
At first Gemma just stood there, feeling almost
too overwhelmed.
 
But then she realized
the clock was ticking.
 
She hurried for
the bathroom to shower and dress, and get downstairs.

“She doesn’t live here,”
one Doorman, a new employee, said to the other one.
 
“Does she?
 
I’ve never seen any blacks here.”

“There’s a few here,” the
more experienced Doorman replied.

“I’ve never seen any.”

“You’ve only been working
here for three days.
 
You probably
haven’t seen half of the tenants yet.”

“So you’re saying she
lives here?”

The Doorman looked at
Gemma, who was seated inside the lobby of the Wingate Apartment complex waiting
for the SUV to arrive.
 
She showered,
brushed her teeth, and dressed quickly, with five minutes to spare.
 
“She doesn’t live here, no,” the experienced
Doorman replied.

“So what you figure is
her game?
 
Soliciting is what I
figure.
 
One of those black hookers from
around the way.
 
Want me to go tell her
to scram?”

The experienced Doorman
smiled.
 
“Yeah, you go tell her to
scram.
 
And I’ll stand back and watch how
Mr. Gabrini not only fires you, but throws you through this glass door to drive
his point home.”

The newbie looked
puzzled.
 
“Who’s Mr. Gabrini?”

The Doorman couldn’t
believe it.
 
“Have you not been listening
to a word I’ve told you? Mr. Gabrini is only the owner of the joint.
 
The entire joint.
 
He lives in the penthouse, I told you that.”

“Oh, him!”
 
Then the newbie frowned and looked at Gemma
again.
 
“So what is she to him?”

“Only his
girlfriend.
 
Only the lady we have to
call Miss Jones at all times and treat her the same way, he said, we treat
him.
 
In other words, you’d better learn
how to kiss her ass because from what I’m hearing around here, she ain’t going
nowhere.
 
She’s a keeper.
 
Some are even saying he loves her.
  
Yeah, you go tell her to scram.
 
See how that works out for ya.”

The newbie swallowed
hard, realizing how close he came to certain termination.
 
But when an SUV stopped in front of the
building and Gemma stood up, he decided to go out of his way with kindness.

“Good morning, Miss
Jones,” he said as he opened the door for her.
 
“You look so lovely today.”

“Thank-you,” Gemma said
absently as she made her way out of the door and across the sidewalk.
 
She was dressed simply, in a pair of black
trousers, a white blouse tucked into the trousers, and heels.
 
Her hair was in its normal bouncy bob and she
wore no makeup, which many people said she never needed anyway.
 
Sal said it the most.

She got into the SUV, the
door closed, and they were off.
 
A burly
white man was the driver, and another burly white man sat in the backseat with
her.
 
They didn’t tell her where they
were going, and she decided not to ask.
 
Tommy and Sal were running this show.

But what she didn’t
realize at the time, was that this drive would last nearly six hours long.
 
At first they drove to Portland.
 
It took them three hours.
 
But they didn’t stay.
 
They grabbed some burgers and drove back to
Seattle.
 
Gemma couldn’t eat even if she
wanted to, which she didn’t, but she did force a few French fries down.
 
But once back in Seattle, they kept driving
around town until the man in the backseat received a call.
 
Then he hung up the phone and looked at the
Driver.
 
“He said to bring her in,” was
all he had to say.
 
They took her in.

What amazed Gemma was
that they took her, not to some safe house or Tommy’s house or some other
location, but right back to the Wingate.
 
Gemma couldn’t believe it.

But she didn’t discuss it
with her bodyguards.
 
They were only
following orders too.
 
She, instead,
waited until she made it upstairs and entered the penthouse.

She knew it was
super-serious when, not only was Tommy back in town and at the penthouse, but
Reno was there too.
 
And both of them
looked gravely concerned, which distressed her as soon as she saw them.

“Where’s Sal?” she
asked.
 
“Is Sal all right?”

“He’s all right,” Tommy
assured her.
 
“He’s upstairs, in the
shower.
 
He just made it back.
 
He wanted to shower first.”

Gemma quickly began to
move in that direction.

“Hey, Gemma,” Reno said,
noticing that she seemed so preoccupied with Sal that she didn’t speak to
them.
 
Not like her at all.

It was only then did
Gemma look at Reno.
 
She had noted his
presence when she entered the house, but then directed all of her attention to
Tommy.
 
“Hey, Reno.”

“How are you, Gemma?”

“Not so good, Reno,” Gemma
admitted, and then hurried upstairs.

Reno looked at
Tommy.
 
“Kid’s in bad shape.”

Tommy nodded.
 
“I’d say.
 
That’s why I’m determined to keep Grace as far away from the action as I
can keep her.”

“Ah, you baby that girl,”
Reno said dismissively.
 
“Grace can
handle it.
 
She’s tough enough.”

But Tommy wasn’t trying
to hear that.
 
All he had to do was see
that wary look in Gemma’s beautiful eyes to know that he was calling it, for
his woman, absolutely right.

By the time Gemma made it
upstairs and entered the master bedroom, Sal was already out of the shower, had
dried off, and was standing by the bed just about to put on his underwear.
 
She ran to him.

“Sal!” she said with
relief in her voice.
 
“Are you all
right?”

“I’m fine,” he said as
she looked all over his chiseled body for any bruising or other injury.
 
But he looked just as concerned for her.
 
“Are you all right?” he asked her.

Gemma looked at him.
 
To Sal’s dismay, it was obvious that she
wasn’t.
 
“I’m glad they didn’t keep you.”

“Why would they?” Sal
asked, as he began putting on his briefs.
 
“I wasn’t involved in those deaths.
 
They weren’t keeping me.”

“But what did they
say?
 
What did they want?”

“I told you they didn’t
want nothing.
 
Just wanted to fuck with
me, that’s their stock and trade.
 
Stop
worrying.
  
What are you worrying about
that for?”

Gemma couldn’t help
it.
 
She was extremely worried.

“Come here, you,” Sal
said as he pulled her into his arms.
 
He
stared into her eyes.
 
“It’s going to be
all right, Gem.
 
Yeah, this is embarrassing
for me, being hauled downtown like that, but it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Then why is Reno here if
it’s nothing, Sal?
 
Why did Tommy leave
his business meetings in L.A. to fly back here, if it’s nothing?”

Sal had a firecracker on
his hands.
 
Pats on the head and kisses
on the cheeks weren’t going to work with her.
 
They stopped embracing, and he began to put on his pants.

“It’s nothing for you to
worry about,” he said.

Gemma let out a sharp
exhale and folded her arms.
 
She was
waiting for a fuller explanation.
 

Sal looked at her.
 
Somehow he knew when the FBI first appeared
at
 
his front door that this was going to
be the biggest test of their relationship.
 
And all he could think about was reassuring her.
 

He sat on the bed.
 
“Sit down, Gem,” he said to her.

Gemma hesitated, but then
she sat down.

He placed her hands in
his.
 
“I’m okay,” he assured her.
 
“If you don’t believe I can take care of
myself, then believe that Tommy will.
 
He’s
not going to let anything happen to me.
 
All right?
 
Whenever anything goes
down and I’m not around, or the cops haul me in or whatever, you call
Tommy.
 
He’ll handle it.
 
And if you can’t reach Tommy, you call Reno.
 
He’ll handle it.”

That only made her more
distressed.
 
“But why would I need to
call anybody?” she asked.

“I’m just saying,
Gem.
 
If something ever goes down, don’t
you go to the cops or anybody like that.
 
Don’t you ever go to the cops.
 
You go to Tommy.
 
Or Reno.
 
Or Trina if you can’t find either one of
them.
 
They’ll handle it.”

Gemma already knew she
wasn’t dating Mister Rogers or Cliff Huxtable.
 
But days like this made it even clearer to her.
 
“Okay,” she said.
 
“I’ll remember that.”

“You remember that.”

She nodded.
 
“I will.”

Sal smiled, and rubbed
the side of her face.
 
“Good.
 
Because if I have to deal with certain
problems, the last thing I’ll need is to be worried about you too.”