Romancing Sal Gabrini 2: A Woman's Touch (24 page)

It
looked just as hopeless in their second hour of searching as it had in their
first, when they pulled into a closed down skating rink.
 
Tommy had been praying the entire time for a
miracle, and Reno, though he’d never admit it out loud to anyone, had been
inwardly praying too.
 
But it still
seemed hopeless.
 
No Van, no SUVs, no
form of life whatsoever.

“Another
blank,” Reno said as Tommy began to drive off again.
 

But
that was when Tommy saw it.
 
He slammed
on brakes and turned around.
 
And Reno
saw it too.
 
The Van.
 
It wasn’t in the skating rink parking lot,
but behind it, in front of an old building.
 
They didn’t even know what kind of business it used to house, or if it
was even deserted.
 
But they knew that
Van.
 
They knew they were finally getting
somewhere.

After
Sal had untied the Joneses, he led them, with a quickness they matched, out of
the room and downstairs.
 
So close, they
were to triumph.
 
But when he opened the
door that led to an outside alley on the side of the building, their hope
turned to fear.
 
A gun was placed directly
at Sal’s head.
 
And it was held there, by
Fab Menza.

“You
didn’t really think I would just leave,” Fab said.
 
“Did you?
 
That I would leave you alive?
 
Are
you that stupid?
 
You’re stupid, but are
you that stupid?
 
Now drop your weapon,
fool, before I blow your fucking brains out!”

Sal’s
heart grew faint.
 
Because the Joneses
were now in Fab’s crossfire.
 
Because
they had been so close to freedom!
 

“Drop
it!” Fab yelled again.

Sal
knew if he started firing he could hit Fab, and Fab might drop, but a bastard
like him wasn’t going to go down quietly.
 
He’d probably kill both Joneses in the process.
 
And Sal right along with them.
 
If Sal was by himself, he’d take that
chance.
 
But he wasn’t alone, which meant
it was too risky.
 
He knew he had no real
choice.
 
He dropped his weapon.

“Now
get back inside,” Fab ordered, but Sal knew it would be now or never.

“Let
them go,” he begged.
 
“You want me.
 
You don’t want these people.
 
Let’em go, Uncle.
 
Kill me, torture me, but let these people
go.”

“Yeah,
right, I’m going to let them go.
 
They
don’t mean anything to me!”

“But
they mean everything to the Feds.
 
This
is our fight, Unc.
 
You kill me, so
what?
 
The FBI don’t give a shit about
me.
 
But you ice these good people from
Indiana and you’ve got a major league headache on your hands.
 
They’ll hound you to the ends of this
earth.
 
When it could have all been
avoided.
 
Uncle Paulo used to always say
that, remember?
 
Never knock off average
Joes.
 
The Feds couldn’t care less when
bad men kill bad men.
 
But knock off an
average Joe, and you’ve got a federal-sized problem on your hands.”

It
was a load of bull Sal was selling, especially since Paulo Gabrini would have
never said any such thing.
 
But Fab, like
all of the mobsters in the family, idolized Reno’s father.

Fab
Menza looked at the Joneses.
 
Sal knew it
was do or die.
 
He would either let them
go, or kill them right here and right now.

“Sure,”
Fab said.
 
“I’ll let them go.”
 
Then he calmly turned the gun toward Mr.
Jones, and fired.

But
just as he did, Sal knocked the gun upward, and a struggle to control the
weapon ensued.
 
Tommy and Reno were just
making their way up to the entrance door, their guns drawn, when they heard the
gunshot.
 
They had phoned for backup, but
now knew there was no time to waste.
 
Reno kicked the door open, and they blasted their way in.

By
the time the dust had cleared, Sal was fine, the Joneses were fine, and Fab
Menza, for all of his ranting and raving, was the only man down.

Sal
bent over, attempting to regulate his breathing, his heart still hammering
against his chest.
 
“Gemma,” he managed
to say to the Joneses.
 
“Call your
daughter now.
 
Call Gemma right now.”

Tommy
smiled, thrilled beyond measure to have his old bossy Sal back among the
living, and gladly handed a cell phone to Rodney Jones.

EPILOGUE

His
shorts and sweatshirt were drenched as he turned the corner on the last leg of
his run.
 
It wasn’t a marathon, but it
had been five miles, and every inch of his body was aching.
 

He
entered the Wingate looking at his watch. Not his personal best, but
considering how long he’d been out of the game, it wasn’t bad either.
 

“Good
morning, Mr. Gabrini,” the Doorman said jovially as Sal entered.
 
Sal began unwrapping his wristband, nodded at
his employee, and kept on walking.
 
By
the time he stepped onto his private elevator, and the doors shut him in, he
leaned against the rail.
 
He closed his
eyes, ran his hands through his soaked hair, and experienced just how out of
shape he really was.
 
The aches, the
pains, he felt like some old man.
 
But
then he thought about Gemma, and her parents, and he smiled.
 
He might not be super-athletic, or very
athletic much at all anymore, but he had Gemma.
 

And
when he entered his penthouse, she was still on his mind.
 
But the smell of freshly cooked bacon, and
the sound of conversation in the kitchen, took him in that direction.

In
the kitchen were Rodney and Cassie.
 
And
they seemed so at home that it warmed Sal’s heart.
 

“Good
morning,” he said to them.
 
Rodney was
seated at the center island, reading the morning newspaper, and Cassie was at
the stove, cooking that delicious-smelling breakfast.
 
It was the day after all of the craziness,
and everybody, especially Sal, were feeling renewed.

“Good
morning,” Rodney said, with a smile on his face.
 
Sal allowed him and his wife to spend the
night in one of his downstairs, furnished apartments, and they felt as if they
were on a luxurious vacation.
 
Rodney was
still concerned about Sal’s associations, and probably always would be, but
there was no denying the man.
 
Sal
Gabrini loved Gemma and would move heaven and earth for her.
 
That was good enough for Rodney.
 
And that awesome fact that Sal had saved his
life, not to mention his dear wife’s life, gave him brownie points forever, as
far as Rodney was concerned.

“Good
morning,” Cassie said, smiling too.

“It
smells great.”
 
Sal reached onto the
plate to grab a slice of bacon, but Cassie slapped his hand away.

“Not
before you wash up,” she said. “Homey don’t play that!”

Sal
laughed and looked at Rodney.
 
“Did you
see your wife?
 
She knocked my hand
away.
 
How do you put up with that?”

“We
weren’t married a week when I, too, grabbed for bacon,” Rodney said.
 
“I got my hand slapped too.
 
I never did it again.
 
You live and you learn, simple as that.”

“And
make her the boss while you’re at it,” Sal agreed.

“You’d
better,” Rodney said.
 
“If you know
what’s good for you.”

“Guess
I’ll have to wait until breakfast is served then.”

“Good
guess,” Rodney said, and Sal laughed.
 
They were still working out the kinks of their relationship.
 
Sal wasn’t a son-in-law, so there were no
titles to bandy about, but Sal felt more than just a boyfriend to their
daughter too.
 
And Rodney seemed to
agree.

“When
I grow up,” Sal said to Rodney, “I wanna be just like you.”

Rodney
laughed his booming laugh.

Sal
looked at Cassie.
 
“Where’s my better
half, if you know?”

“Still
upstairs.
 
And when you go to her you
tell her that breakfast will be served in ten minutes, and not a minute later.”

Sal
laughed.
 
“Yes, drill sergeant,” he said,
and made his exit.

Upstairs,
Sal saw that Gemma wasn’t still in bed, but was in the shower.
 
Which was perfect, he thought, as he
undressed.
 

When
he got into the shower and stood behind her, she smiled.
 
And then sighed in that wondrously sensual
tone when he hugged her with one hand and began to massage her between her legs
with the other one.
 
She turned her face
sideways, and they kissed. Passionately.
 
Then Sal eased his penis inside of her, and they relaxed to a slow,
steady fuck.

Sal
held her tightly as he did her.
 
They had
spoken so little about what happened, because they were all still celebrating
life itself and the fact that her parents decided to remain in Seattle and
spend some time with them.
 
But he had
one question that he felt could not wait.
 
It had to be asked.

After
a few minutes, when his strokes were now in-sync with her body, and they were
moving in perfect groove as if his sex was music, he went there.
 
“Why?” he asked her.

Gemma’s
eyes were closed, and she was enjoying every stroke.
 
“Why what, baby?”

“Why
did you decide to stay with me?
 
After
all of the pain I put your parents through, and put you through?”

“You
didn’t put us through anything.
 
It
wasn’t your fault, Sal.”

But
Sal knew better than that.
 
“Why did you
stay?” he asked her again.

She
thought about what he had asked.
 
She
knew he wasn’t going to accept any placating or simple reassurances.
 
She opened her eyes.
 
“Pain will always be a part of life,” she
said. “No matter which road I would have chosen, I would have still had to
experience pain.
 
But love, especially
the kind that we have?”
 
She shook her
head.
 
“No.
 
That kind of love, that level of love, will
always require a sacrifice.”
 
She turned
her face toward him.
 
“A major
sacrifice,” she added.

“But
is it worth the sacrifice, Gemma?
 
Am I
worth it?
 
To you?”

Sal
held his breath as he waited for her answer.
 
But there was no need.
 
She
answered quickly and decisively.

“Oh,
yes,” she said with a smile.
 
“Oh, yes.”

He
smiled too, and held her tighter.
 
He
pushed deeper and deeper inside of her.
 
He rubbed her breasts, her stomach, he pumped her ass.
 
He was all in physically.
 
He was all in emotionally.
 
He was all in.

Gemma
leaned back, and rubbed against him as he did her.
 
Because she was all in too.
 
Even without any discussion of the long haul
and marriage.
 
Because she knew, as he
knew, that it would happen.
 
They both
had the courage to get there someday.
 
It
was just a matter of time.
 
But it also
took courage to know that now was not that time.
 
They had too much to learn, not just about
life in general, but especially about each other.
 

But
as Sal’s gyrations increased in direct proportion to their groans, and he was
fucking her so hard that she felt as if she was going to cry with joy, they
were determined to enjoy the ride.
 
Their
time, they knew, would come.