“Very well,” Carolyn said, and then left Roz in Mick’s bedroom.
A wonderful sensation washed over Roz when Carolyn left her alone in Mick’s room. She felt an intimacy she couldn’t explain. She wanted to explore everything, from his chest to his closet to his medicine cabinet, but she knew that would be out of line. Besides, for all she knew he could have cameras on her ass at this very moment. There would be plenty of time to explore, she felt. So she sat her ass down, in the sitting room that was as large as her living room, and got herself some rest.
She rested so well on Mick’s lounger that she was almost asleep when the door opened again, and Carolyn and one of the butlers entered with her luggage.
“Knock knock,” Carolyn said as she entered. “Where are you?”
Roz stretched and yawned. “In here,” she said between yawns. “I’m in here.”
Carolyn headed toward her. “Change in plans,” she said.
Roz looked at her.
“Mr. Sinatra’s assistant phoned. He is to meet you at Raphael’s where you and he has reservations for the evening.”
“I assume this Raphael’s is a restaurant?” Roz asked.
“Oh, yes. One of the best in town.”
Carolyn said it with a smile, as if she was certain Roz would be intimidated. Roz was not. “I would not have expected anything less from Mick,” she said with her own smile.
Carolyn’s smile left. “The reservation is for eight,” she said. “Your driver will be waiting.”
After Carolyn left, Roz exhaled, grabbed underwear, and headed for Mick’s bathroom.
They stood in the middle of the warehouse like four men in a lineup. To the men detaining them, they were a disgusting sight. Snitches. No lower name existed in their world. They would rather die than do what these men did.
“You got it all wrong, Rennie,” one of the men said to one of their guards, but the guard kicked him in the gut, causing him to double over. “Shut the fuck up!” he yelled. “Boss will deal with you!”
The man was in pain now, and wanted to go down to his knees, but when he heard the warehouse garage door opened, and Mick Sinatra, along with Leo Barone, Paul Ricci, and Silvio Fontaine walked in, he stood straight and tall. Sinatra hated weakness. He wasn’t about to show it now.
It was a long walk from the entrance to where the traitors stood. They all stared at Mick as if he was either coming to their rescue, or coming to their kill. These men were in Mick’s inner circle. These were the people who were supposed to be willing to die for him. And they betrayed him. Every one of them. They snitched.
But Mick didn’t walk toward them like a man ready for revenge. He didn’t show the rage that was within him, nor the angry disappointment. Because he was assessing them. Who was the weak link, who was the next weak one, and so on. And who was the strength. Who still had enough mental fortitude within himself to tell the story straight, and his part in it.
Mick’s men, however, were teeming for action. Four men snitching on a man like Mick was the equivalent of a tsunami in the underworld. This didn’t happen. This didn’t happen to Mick Sinatra.
Mick knew it too. His men didn’t realize it, but Mick was less interested in the fact that it had happened, and more interested in what he had to do to ensure it never happened again. That required showing more than telling. Mick showed.
As soon as he was within close range of the men, he pulled out his gun and fired. Even his own men were caught off guard as he fired one bullet between the eyes of the first man, then the second man, and, in rapid succession, the third one. The last man standing, Pomp Valance, pissed in his pants.
“Tell the truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said to Pomp as he continued to approach. “Lie to me and you don’t.”
The man, Pomp Valance, could barely breathe. But he didn’t hesitate. He knew Mick. He knew Mick the Tick.
“Provensano’s men approached us.”
Mick’s men looked at each other. “Provensano?” Silvio asked, surprised.
“What did they want?” Mick asked Pomp.
Pomp was terrified, but he knew he had to tell it. “Intel. Everything we could find.”
“About what?”
“The Hub. They knew about the Hub. But they wanted the details. The day to day.”
“Papers, in other words?” Mick asked. “A paper trail.”
Pomp nodded his head. “But I didn’t give them shit, boss. You have to believe me. I told them to kiss my ass.”
Mick shot Pomp in the arm. Pomp grabbed it and screamed in pain.
“Tell me the truth and you stand a chance,” Mick said again. “Lie to me and you don’t.”
“Okay,” Pomp said. “Okay!” He continued to hold his arm. “I gave them what I had.”
“Which was?” Leo asked.
“I didn’t have nothing major to give them, boss. I didn’t know anything about the inner workings---”
“What did you give them?” Mick asked.
Pomp hesitated. But not for long. “The shipment.”