Page 44 of Trina Gabrini: Bring Him Back Home to Me

Reno knew Mick should have been there by now. “What company? Uncle Mick?”

“Moose is here.”

Trina lifted her head when he said that name. But Reno was certain he heard it wrong. “Moose is where?” When he realized by the look on Sal’s flustered face that he heard it exactly right, his rage returned. “I know that motherfucker not at my house,” he blared as he lifted a stunned Trina off of him, and got out of bed. “You got to be shitting me!”

“Do it look like I’m shitting you? He’s here,” Sal said as Reno was zipping his pants and hurrying for the exit. “He’s at the gate. He wants permission to see you.”

Reno glanced back at Sal. “What you told him?”

“I said hell yeah you wanna see him. At gunpoint. And I told my guys to check inside, outside, and underneath his car for explosives, or people, or anything else,” Sal said.

Reno agreed with Sal’s approach.

But Sal looked at Reno because Reno wore a pair of pants only, no shirt and no shoes, but it was obvious he didn’t care. Moose Vatelli was at the gate? At his gate? Had he been butt-naked he would have still been rushing out of that room. And Sal was rushing out right behind him.

Trina was wearing one of Reno’s big dress shirts as she got out of bed, but she quickly put on a pair of shorts and a pair of Sketchers slip-ins before running out behind them. But even as she was hurrying toward the foyer, she was as flabbergasted as Reno was.

Moose Vatelli at their house as if it wasn’t a big-ass deal?

As if his ass wasn’t the most wanted man in the world to them?

As if he had no shame?

Even Trina had to see this to believe it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Tommy and Robby Yale were already outside by the time Reno and Sal came running out of the door. But Sal’s armed capos were running alongside the limo, on both sides, as it made its way up the expansive driveway.

They had already checked that limo inside, outside, and underneath, and they had checked Moose Vatelli and his driver too. They were treating him with the disrespect he deserved. They were confident there would be no surprises.

When Reno, Tommy, and Sal hurried up to the limo, Walter “Moose” Vatelli pressed down the back passenger side window. “Get in, Reno,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Reno stared at him with nothing short of disgust on his face. What balls he’s got, Reno was thinking.

But he knew Moose. The man was crazy as fuck, but he was never a fool. And trying anything in the driveway of his arch-enemy would be fool activity. Reno knew it. That was why he got into the back of the vehicle.

What he didn’t realize was that Trina had come up behind him, and got in the limo too.

Which angered Sal. “What you doing, Tree? Get the fuck out of there!”

Sal was about to grab her out, but Reno stopped him. “She’s alright. He didn’t just come for my babies, he came for hers too. She’s alright.”

Trina was on the back side of Reno, away from Moose himself, and Reno aimed to keep it that way.

Sal looked at Tommy. Was he for real letting his old lady be anywhere near a dangerous thug like Moose? But Tommy hunched his shoulders. No way would he let Grace do it, nor would Sal let Gemma. But they both knew there was no getting between Reno and Trina when they were stuck like chuck, and were on the same page even if it was in the wrong playbook.

But Sal didn’t hesitate to hurry around to the front driver side and open the door. “Get lost,” he said to Moose’s driver.

The driver got out, and Sal got in behind the wheel as Tommy was getting in on the front passenger seat. Both brothers turned around to get a good look at Moose too. With their weapons drawn, they were aiming for that motherfucker’s brains if he even thought about getting slick.

Reno and Trina were looking at Moose, but Moose was staring at Sal and Tommy. “Really Dapper Tom? Really Sal Luca? You gonna disrespect me like this? What I look like coming to Reno’s territory starting shit?”

But nobody responded to him. He came to them. They didn’t owe him any explanations.

Moose knew it too. A big, husky Sicilian with a bulldog face and a receding hairline, he was nobody’s picture of beauty. But he had reach. Which meant he had power. What happened at the PaLargio proved that.

Or did it?