Until You Come Back To Me, Book 5 (16 page)

“Dad!”
Jimmy called out as they both arrived back near Gemma’s car.
 

“Found
something?” Reno asked as he hurried over to his son. He was no sprinter, but
he was fast.

When
he arrived at his son’s side, Jimmy pointed to the ground.
 
“That’s Aunt Gemma’s phone right there,”
Jimmy said.

Reno
knew it too.
 
Gemma was the only grown
woman he knew to have a cell phone covered with pictures of cabbage patch
dolls.

Reno’s
heart grew faint as he picked it up.
 
He
felt even worse when he could hear Sal’s voice on the other end, in that
controlled panic voice of his, as if he had been talking into this phone
nonstop since Gemma apparently dropped it.
 
“Hello?” Sal was saying.
 
“
Hello
?”

“Sal,”
Reno said, “it’s me.”

“You
found her?” Sal asked excitedly.

“No,”
Reno said dejectedly.
 
“Just her phone.”

“Her
phone?” Sal knew what that meant.
 
Gemma
went no-where without her phone.
 
“She’s
not there?”

“She’s
not here.”

“Did
you look around, Reno?”

“Yes,
I looked around!
 
Jimmy’s with me and he
looked around too.
 
She’s not here,
Sal.”
 
Then he exhaled.
 
He didn’t want to tell Sal what else he
found, but he had to.
 
“There’s more,” he
said.

“Tell
me,” Sal responded as if he was holding his breath.

“We
found bullet holes.”

“Jesus.
 
Where?”

“In
the driver side door of Gem’s car,” Reno replied.
 
“And I’m talking a hail of bullets blew holes
in that door.”

“Blood?”
Sal asked. “Did you find any blood?”

Reno
shook his head.
 
“No blood, thank
God.
 
Nowhere around here is any
blood.
 
So they apparently missed her.
 
But that doesn’t mean they didn’t take her.”

Sal
knew it too.
 
He was in his limo, with
his driver rushing him to the airstrip in Chicago to board his private
plane.
 
He was in the backseat, dressed
haphazardly in a wrinkled suit, which was saying something for a meticulous
dresser like Sal.
 
And he was leaned
forward, his head bowed, the palm of his hand squeezing his forehead.
 
He wanted his wife.
 
All he wanted was to know that his wife was
okay; that those bastards wasn’t harming his wife.
  

Reno
was known as the most powerful man in Vegas who didn’t take a backseat to
anybody, but because this situation involved Gemma, Sal’s wife, he was going to
take a backseat to Sal.
 
“What do you
want us to do?” he asked him.

Sal
could hardly think straight, but he knew he had to.
 
“I already contacted every man under my
authority.
 
I told them to drop
everything and get on it.
 
They’re
hitting the streets, checking contacts, busting down doors as we speak.”

“I’ll
get every man under my authority out here too,” Reno said, which was very
reassuring to Sal.
 
Vegas was Reno’s
territory.
 
Sal had a battalion of men
stationed there, but Reno had an army.

“Thanks,
Ree,” Sal said.

Then
Jimmy’s voice came onto the line. He had apparently taken the phone from his
father.
 
“Hey,
Unc
,”
Jimmy said.
 
Sal was Reno’s cousin, and
therefore Jimmy’s cousin, but he always called him his uncle.
 
They were as close as father and son.

And
Sal was pleased that he was with Reno.
 
“Hey, sport,” he said.

“We’ll
find Aunt Gemma,” Jimmy said.
 
“Just know
that,
Unc
.
 
We’ll find her.”

Sal
smiled weakly.
 
“I know you will,
son.
 
Thank-you.”

Then
Reno was back on the line.
 
“Like Jimmy
said,” Reno said, “we’ll find her, Sal.
 
I want to tell you not to worry, but I won’t because if it was Trina in
this situation no motherfucker better tell me that either.
 
But don’t worry yourself nuts.
 
That’s won’t help her.”

Sal
had a sudden thought.
 
“Check all the
businesses around that area, Reno,” he said.
 
“Check their cameras.
 
Somebody
had to have seen something.
 
But backdoor
it.
 
We don’t want the cops
involved.
 
They’ll just be in our way.”

“Understood,”
Reno said.
 
“Do you want me to call
Tommy?”

“No,”
Sal said.
 
“He’s been through too much
already.
 
Keep him out of this until we
can get a better handle on it ourselves.
 
He stays dark, until we have no choice.”
 
And they said their goodbyes, and Reno and Jimmy got on with the plan.

Sal
leaned back.
 
He was grateful to have
Reno and Jimmy in town to do the heavy lifting in his absence, but it still
didn’t ease his mind.
 
He’d already
called every friend and associate of Gemma’s that he could think of, to see if
they heard from her or saw her, but nobody had.
 
Not even the staff at her law firm.
 
She was out there, undoubtedly in serious danger, and his ass was in
fucking Chicago!
 
He could kill himself
for not being where he should have been when she needed him most.
 
He could kill himself for that!

But
Reno was right.
 
He had to keep it
together.
 
Falling apart wasn’t going to
help anybody.
 
Especially Gem.

Sal
Gabrini hurried off of his private plane and ran toward the fleet of SUVs
waiting for him.
 
His men surrounded him,
and escorted him to the SUV near the front.

“Any
word?” he asked his security chief.

“No,
sir,” his chief responded.
 

Sal
felt that sense of dread all over again as he got into the truck and the convoy
quickly took off.

When
he arrived at his mansion, piles of cars littered his driveway.
 
His Porsche was there, and so was
Reno’s.
 
Jimmy’s Camaro was there, and
Trina’s Mercedes.
 
Every car that should
be there in a time of family crisis was there.
 
Except Gemma’s.
 

Not that it was still at
the courthouse either.
 
It wasn’t.
 
Sal had ordered his men to pick it up, take
it to one of their garages, and have it dusted for prints.
 
He was leaving no stone unturned.
 
Until Gemma was safely back to him, nothing,
not even the simplest detail, was slipping past his radar.

The SUV stopped at the
steps, Sal jumped out, and hurried inside.
 
Reno and his wife and son were seated on the sofa in the living room,
with a handful of the most senior members of their security teams near the back
of the room, at the bar, working the phones.
 
Trina and Jimmy got up and hurried to Sal.
 
Trina kissed him on the mouth and they hugged
vigorously.
 
Jimmy hugged him also.
 

Reno was on the phone,
getting info, barking out more orders.
 
By the time Tree and Jimmy sat back down on either side of him, and Sal
sat down on the flanking chair, Reno was ending his phone call.
 

“Anything?”

“Nothing,” Reno said.

“What do you mean
nothing?”
 
Sal’s frustration was showing.

“I mean nothing.
 
Nobody knows squat.
 
Nobody’s seen squat.
 
Nothing.
 
We got nothing.”

“You’re telling me that
my wife just dropped off the face of this fucking earth and nobody
noticed?
 
What about the cameras?”

“I went through every one
of them,
Unc
,” Jimmy said.
 
“But there was nothing to see.”

“What about the camera at
the courthouse?” Sal asked.
 
“Were you
able to get a copy?”

“It took some doing, and
some serious cash, but we got it,” Reno said.

“And?”

“Nothing.”

Sal frowned.
 
“What do you mean nothing, Reno?
 
It happened in their parking lot!”

“I know that.
 
But their cameras are in intervals, they
don’t run in a continuous loop.
 
They
show her walking toward her car, then, at the next interval, she was at her
car, then at the next interval there was absolutely no sign of her.
 
So yeah, something undoubtedly went
down.
 
But the cameras didn’t catch it.”

Sal leaned back.
 
He couldn’t believe it.
 
He couldn’t fucking believe it!
 
Then he stood up, and began to pace.
 
He ran his hands through his hair.
 
“I expected more news,” he said.
 
“Why don’t they contact us?
 
What good is holding my wife if you don’t
clue me in on it?
 
If you don’t tell me
why?”

“What about her folks,
Sal?” Trina hated to ask, but she knew she had to.

Sal stopped pacing.
 

“Have you phoned them?”
Trina asked.

He shook his head.
 
“No.
 
I
was hoping she’d be here when I got back.”

Trina felt his pain.
 
But right was right.
 
“They have a right to know, Sal.”

“Not the way they treat
him, they don’t,” Reno said.
 
“They even
accused him of killing their daughter, when they knew it was my bullet that
took her out.
 
But they blame him.
 
They blame him for everything.”

“But it’s their daughter,
Reno,” Trina said.
 
“They still have a
right to know.”

Sal exhaled.
 
His body was so tense it felt as if he was
carrying around a pound of lead.
 
“Trina’s right,” he said.
 
“I’ll
go give them a call.”

“What about Tommy?” Trina
asked.

“After all that shit
Tommy’s been through,” Reno said, “he doesn’t want to involve him just yet.”

“But we need him, Sal,”
Trina said.
 
She was the voice of reason
and they knew it.
 
That was why everybody
in that room respected her.
 
She didn’t
pull punches.
 
“We need his brainpower,”
she continued.
 
“He comes up with shit
none of us could even think about coming up with.
 
I know he’s been through a lot, but he can
help us.”

Reno agreed.
 
“He’d never forgive us if he knew Gemma had
been snatched and we didn’t even tell him about it.
 
And Trina’s right.
 
We need him, Sal.”

Sal nodded.
 
He had already, reluctantly, reached that
conclusion himself.
 
He had to pull out
all the stops when it came to Gemma, even at his brother’s expense.
 
“I’ll call him too,” he said, and headed
upstairs for the privacy, and sanctuary, of his and Gemma’s bedroom.

But before he called
anybody, he got on his knees on the side of their bed and called on the name of
the Lord.

At first he just stayed
there, with his head bowed, his eyes closed, and said nothing.
 
What could a man like him, a chief sinner
among sinners, say to the Almighty?
 
To
the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords?
 
He felt too dirty to even call upon his name. He had too much blood on
his hands to even consider asking for help.
 
But Gemma needed help and he knew only God Almighty could help her.
 
But he didn’t just pray: he didn’t know how
to pray.
 
He begged.

“Almighty God,” he said,
“my name is Salvatore Luciano Gabrini.
 
Some people call me Sal Luca.
 
Most just call me Sal.”
 
Sal
scrunched up his face.
 
“But you already
know that.”
 
He felt like a jerk.
 
He didn’t even know how to pray!
 

He started over.
 
“Almighty God,” he said, “help my wife.
 
Help Gemma.
 
Unlike my . . . unlike my butt, she’s a praying woman.
 
She prays all the time and goes to church.
 
She sometimes have me going too.
 
I used to think the church would burn down if
my slick . . . butt stepped in it, but guess what?
 
It didn’t burn.
 
And I actually enjoyed myself.
 
Because I know you’re real, Lord. I know
you’re God Almighty.
 
And I need you to
help my wife.
 
I’m just an old sinner who
don’t even know how to pray, so I’m not asking you to do it for me, I wouldn’t
dare. But please do it for her.
 
She
loves you.
 
I love you too.
 
I mean, I don’t act like it, not the horrific
things I’ve done, but I do love you.
 
Please keep Gemma safe.
 
Please
bring her back home to me.
 
Please
Lord.
 
Please.”

He remained on his knees
for several minutes, unable to move from the spot.
 
But when he did stand up, he felt oddly
better.
 
The dread was still there, but
that weight, that burden wasn’t.
 
He
should talk to the Lord more, he thought.
 
And then he phoned Gemma’s parents.

Cassie Jones answered the
phone, and it would have been easier on Sal if he could have told her and hung
up, since she wasn’t as harsh as Rodney could be.
 
But he never was a man to take the easy way
out.
 
It was his responsibility to tell the
man of the house: her father.
 
He asked
to speak to Rodney.

“What is it now?” Rodney
asked as soon as he got on the line.
 
He
knew Sal Gabrini would not be calling him just to chat, and he was correct.

“Gemma’s gone missing,”
Sal said, as bluntly as Rodney had been.

“What?” Rodney responded
in a voice so faint Sal knew it was the voice of panic.
 
“What do you mean she’s missing?”

“She was leaving the
courthouse and something happened.
 
We
believe somebody snatched her.”

“Somebody?” Rodney
asked.
 
“You mean one of your mob
people?”

“We don’t know anything
yet.
 
We don’t know anything like that
yet.”

“But who else would harm
Gemma?
 
She never had an enemy in this
world until she met you.
 
Now those
mobsters have kidnapped my little girl!
 
All because of her ties to you, and you know it so don’t play with me,
Sal.
 
Don’t try to pretend it’s not your
fault, because it is!
 
Good Lord.
 
They took my little girl!”
 

Then there was a pause,
as Sal knew Rodney was trying not to fall apart the way Sal had to do when he
heard the news.
 
“We’re coming to Vegas,”
Rodney finally said, and then ended the call.

Sal held his cell phone
in his hand a moment longer.
 
Rodney was
right.
 
This was all Sal’s fault.
 
If his wife was any other woman, he would
fear, not only her kidnapping, but what was going to happen when she
returned.
 
She could tell him this life
was too dangerous and she wanted out, and she could leave him.
 
But he knew Gemma.
 
He knew his wife was made of tougher stock
than that.
 
She would agree it was a dangerous
life.
 
She would agree it was fraught
with all kinds of hazards.
 
But she would
not want out.
 
Not Gemma.
 
Sal therefore stopped obsessing on stupid
stuff, and focused on bringing her home alive.

Tommy Gabrini was in a
board meeting at the Gabrini Corporation in Seattle when the call came in.
 
When he saw on the Caller ID that it was his
younger brother Sal, he didn’t delay.
 
Because he was Chairman of the Board, he didn’t have to say a word
either.
 
He just got up and left the
boardroom.

“Hey,” he said into the
phone once he was out in the corridor.

“How you doing?” Sal
asked him.

“Good.
 
Matheson’s making another pitch for us to get
into the boating business.”

“Not again.
 
Is his latest idea any better than the last
one?”

“Hell no.
 
But I let him have the floor.”

“I don’t know why you
even bother.”

“Because he’s still a
fucking genius.
 
He just goes off the
rails every now and then.”

“I’ve got trouble,
Tommy,” Sal said abruptly.

Tommy’s heart began to
pound.
 
Not more trouble.
 
“What kind?”

“Somebody’s snatched
Gemma.”

“God, no, Sal!”

“And we don’t know who.”

“How long ago?”

“This afternoon at the
courthouse parking lot.
 
I was in
Chicago.
 
I’m back in Vegas now.”

“Has any one contacted
you?”

“Nobody.
 
That’s what makes it worse.”

“What about the cameras?
 
Did you secure cameras around the area?”

“We did.
 
But they turned up nothing.”

Tommy exhaled.
 
“I’m going to call my pilot and get over
there.”

As Sal knew he
would.
 
“Thanks, Tommy.”

“And Sal?”

Sal listened.

“It’s not your fault, so
don’t go around blaming yourself.”
 
Then
Tommy frowned.
 
“Gemma wouldn’t want
that.”