But as soon as they made it inside the backdoor, the gunfire stopped. Monk ran into a side room off from the entrance door and turned on the monitors. He saw men running out of his front door.

  “They’re out front!” he yelled, and Raymond and the men took off.

  Monk kept looking upstairs and in the basement for any other gunmen. But he didn’t see anybody. That was when he was about to run up front too.

  But then he thought about Ashley. Did some of those guys double back? Were they banking on all of them running up front, while some of them ran and tried to harm Ashley?

  He ran out of that backdoor and began running back toward the woodshed. His heart was pounding as he ran. And as soon as he got inside, he flung open the door. “Ashley!” he cried when he didn’t immediately see her. “Ashley!”

  Ashley came running from the back of the shed. “I thought you were one of those gunmen,” she cried. “I hid when I thought you were one of those gunmen.”

  “Come with me,” Monk said, reaching out his hand. She was better with him, than without him, he decided, and they ran out of the shed and around to the front of the house.

  Raymond and his men were out front, and when they saw Monk and Ashley they hurried over to them.

  “Did you see them?” Monk asked his father.

  “Their asses jumped in an SUV and took off before we could get to them. Before we could even fire a shot at them.”

  “What was that about?” Boozer asked.

  “Hell if I know,” said Monk.

  “Everybody inside!” Raymond ordered as if he was still in charge. “Just in case they come doubling back.”

  But all of the men, including Raymond’s men, looked to Monk. Doubling back was a familiar routine to Monk, so he didn’t object. And they all began heading toward the front door of the main house.

  But as they were walking, and as Monk and Ashley were walking behind them, Monk felt as if something still wasn’t right. Why would they go in, shoot up the house, and then leave? That made no sense.

  Unless . . .

  Monk’s heart dropped. And just as his father was about to open the front door to walk back in, he yelled. “Don’t go in! Don’t go in! It’s a plant. Don’t go in!”

  And every one of those men knew what Monk meant. A plant meant a bomb was inside that house. Monk believed they had planted a bomb inside that house and every man, realizing it was a possibility, too, took off running as far away from that house as they could get.

  Monk was already holding Ashley’s hand and they were running away from the house too.

  Once Monk stopped running, they all stopped running. And they waited down the street for the explosion to come.

  But it never came.

  Monk was shocked. His conclusion had to be the explanation. It made the most sense. But there was no explosion.

  Now all of the men were looking at Monk again, but this time with anger and resentment. What’s wrong with you? their looks seemed to say.

  Even Ashley was looking at Monk. Was he overreacting because she was there? Was her very presence throwing him off his game? Was this all her fault?

  Monk was dumbstruck. He had no clue what just happened. Why would somebody break into his house and just leave like that? What the fuck was going on, he wondered.

  But then, to make matters dramatically worst, a big, black, shiny Cadillac Escalade drove up, and Big Daddy, Mick, and Teddy Sinatra got out. And as soon as they got out, Ashley ran to Big Daddy as if he was coming to her rescue. She fell into his arms.

  Monk’s big day, the day he was installed as the head of the Bonaducci crime family, felt like a complete and utter failure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Monk slowly opened the door of his master bedroom and quietly walked over to the bed. With his suit coat now off, he placed his hands in both of his pants pockets and stared down at Ashley. She was still sound asleep in his bed. It seemed as if all the craziness of the day crashed down on her, and she finally was getting some well-deserved rest.

  He inwardly apologized to her, for dragging her into his mess of a life. But he was thanking her, too, for being there with him, and for being able to handle herself whenever it was called for. Nobody would believe it, but “Party Girl” Ashley seemed tailor made to be a mob boss wife. Which made Monk smile. If past was prologue, it would have seemed impossible. Fun-loving Ashley? Irresponsible Ashley? Men treated her as if she wasn’t good enough to be their girlfriend, let alone their wife. But his girl Ashley rose to the occasion every time he needed her to. It was Monk who didn’t feel worthy. It was Monk who felt inordinately blessed.

  Satisfied that she was okay, he kissed her on the forehead, smiled at the way a tiny, unconscious smile appeared even through her sleep, and then he quietly walked back out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  They were in Monk’s condo in Southampton, New York, a two-hour drive from his house in Jersey. Mainly because he wasn’t taking any chances staying at the house until after he had it professionally swept for any explosives those intruders might have left. Ashley’s father, uncle, and cousin were in Monk’s office, going over all of the video from Monk’s house attack. Monk poured himself a glass of wine from the bar that sat inside his huge office, and joined them.

  “Found anything?” he asked.

  “Nothing yet,” Charles said. He was at the controls, seated behind the desk operating the computer where the video had been transferred, with Mick standing on one side of his chair, and Teddy on the other side. Monk had already provided all three men with glasses of wine, but Mick nor Charles had touched their drinks. Teddy was nearly finished with his.

  Monk motioned for Teddy to step aside with him. Both men walked to the other end of the huge office.

  “I guess they’re pissed with me,” Monk said.

  Teddy smiled. “That’s a kind way to put it.”

  Monk nodded and sipped more wine.

  “You understand why, don’t you? What happened at your house. What happened at Don Bonaducci’s house. What happened in Jericho with those boys.”

  Monk stared at Teddy. Then he frowned. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Pop found out about it. I keep telling you, Monk, anything that goes down involving a Sinatra or a Gabrini, somehow, someway, my old man finds out about it.”

  “But through what means?” Monk asked. “A network of fucking snitches?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I have no idea.”

  “Did you ever ask him?”

  “Of course I asked him! What do you take me for? I ask him all the time.”

  “And?”

  Teddy shook his head. “And he looks at me like I lost my mind even asking him such a question. That’s his business. That will always be his business. That’s the answer. Even Big Daddy don’t know how Pop does it.”

  “I’ll bet his wife knows,” said Monk. “He tells her everything.”

  “He tells her everything because she doesn’t tell shit either,” Teddy said. “And Roz and me? We’re really close. She’s my stepmother, but she’s not all that much older than I am. We’re tight. And trust me, I’ve tried to pry it out of her time and time again.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing,” Teddy said. “She tells nothing. She’ll go to her grave with all of Pop’s secrets.”

  “Sounds like a stubborn broad to me,” Monk said.

  “Sounds like a good woman to me,” Teddy said.

  Monk smiled, and lifted his glass. “True,” he admitted. Then he looked at Teddy. “Speaking of good women,” he said, “how’s Nikki?”

  “She’s okay.”

  “Still haven’t married her, hun?”

  Monk could tell it was a question Teddy was tired of answering. “Not yet, no.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you why. Every time you ask the question I tell you why. I’m still trying to get some things lined up. But . . .”

  “But what?” Monk asked.

  “But Pop won’t let me go,” Teddy said. “Every thing l line up, he knocks down. He doesn’t wanna let me go.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “On the one hand I feel real good about it. Pop knows my worth, and that’s a good thing.”

  “And on the other hand?” Monk asked.

  “On the other hand,” said Teddy, “I feel trapped. To be Pop’s underboss is considered the second most powerful job in the entire underworld, second only to Pop himself as boss of all bosses.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a load to carry. But lots of guys in our business would love to carry that load. But you’re like me. Who the fuck wants that?”

  “Right, yeah,” said Teddy, agreeing with Monk. “It consumes your life.” Then he stared at Monk. “Like running Bonaducci’s outfit. That’s about to consume yours.”

  Monk nodded. He knew it too.

  “Monk!” It was Big Daddy calling his name. “Get over here.”

  Monk and Teddy hurried over to Charles and Mick. “Found something?”

  “We got this side view of one of the guys getting in one of those cars,” said Charles. “Right here.” He showed the guys running from the house and hopping in the cars. But one of them stumble, and a sideview of his face was shown. But the way he wore his cap concealed his face too much for recognition.

  Monk took over the controls and pressed buttons that moved the scene in for an even better focused view. But he still couldn’t make out who it could be. Until he thought he saw something. But not on the guy they were focusing on, but on the guy who jumped into the car ahead of him.

  “Back it up,” he said to Charles.

  “The scene?”

  “Yeah.”

  Charles backed up the video.

  “Right there,” Monk said, and then he pressed the buttons that pulled in, but not the man’s face, since it was even more obstructed than the other guy’s face. But he focused on the camera angle that caught the guys’ arm. Although he wore a lightweight jacket, he had pushed the sleeves up, revealing most of his lower arm. And on that lower arm Monk saw a scar.

  “What are you looking at?” Teddy asked.

  “That scar,” said Mick.

  “It’s not your run-of-the-mill scar, is it?” Charles said.

  “No,” said Monk. “It’s not.” Then he shut the whole thing down and grabbed his suit coat from over the back of the chair.

  “You know who that is?” Charles asked him.

  “I know him,” said Monk.

  “Based on that scar?” asked Teddy.

  “Yup.”

  “What would you know about that scar?” Charles asked, standing up.

  “The knife broke and twisted when he was stabbed,” Monk explained. “That’s why it’s got that odd shape.”

  “How would you know about it?” Charles asked.

  “Because I’m the one put it there,” said Monk as he turned to leave out of the office. “I’ll go wake Ashley,” he said.

  Charles, Mick, and Teddy were confused. Charles even hurried over to Monk and grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn around. “Go wake Ashley?” he asked Monk. “What are you waking her for?”

  “You aren’t talking about taking her with us,” Teddy said.

  It was obvious by the look on Monk’s face that that was exactly what he was talking about doing. All three Sinatras stared at him.

  Especially Charles. “But why?” he asked Monk.

  “Because she’s safer with me,” he said.

  They all continued to stare at him. Did he really believe that?

  “You think taking my daughter to find some killer or whatever he might be, would be safer than letting her stay here in this well-fortified condo?” Charles asked him.

  “That’s right,” said Monk confidently. “I know how to protect her.”

  “Better than me?” Charles asked. “Because I’m staying here with my daughter. You think you can protect her better out in the field than she’ll be here with me?”

  “Here with you?” Monk asked. “No sir. I didn’t know you were going to stay.”

  Mick and Teddy were shocked. Big Daddy was confused. What kind of man was this? “Of course I’m going to stay here with her,” he said. “That’s my daughter!”

  Monk realized in that moment that he had no clue what it meant to be in a family that actually loved one another. He grew up in a family where it was each man for himself. He also realized that the fact he had no clue about family was another reason for Big Daddy to hate him as Ashley’s man.

  “Thank you for staying with her,” Monk said.

  Another blunder, he realized. And sure enough, Charles was ready to lash out at him about that too. You don’t have to thank me for looking out for my own daughter, he started to say. What’s wrong with you?

  But Charles was a wise man. He realized, by the anguished look in Monk’s big eyes, that he just didn’t know how a true family operated beyond that crime family shit. He just didn’t know. And in that moment, Charles’s heart went out to Monk. “You’re welcome,” he said to him. “Be careful,” he added.

  Monk nodded. He always felt awkward as hell around Big Daddy for some reason. Always had. But now that he had Ashley, it was even more pronounced.

  But at least he knew Ashley would be left in the best hands she could possibly be in, outside of his own hands.

  And then he, Mick, and Teddy hurried out of that condo.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Too Tall Pastroni sat in the back of the club in Newark, and he was already half drunk. When Monk and Teddy walked into the club, Monk saw him straight away. Most times that was where you’d find him, in some back booth drinking his earnings and his life away. He was what was called a handy man in the underworld, a guy you paid to do some quick job that you didn’t want tied to your people. Too Tall was that kind of guy. He belonged to no one. He belonged to everyone.

  Monk almost killed him once, when he botched a job for him.

  But as Monk and Teddy began heading his way, Too Tall was about to take another sip of his beer. But noticed two white guys in suits heading his way. They stood out like sore thumbs. Not only because they both looked like straight up Mafia. But also because they were in Newark, and nearly everybody in the joint were either African-American, or Latino. Too Tall was always the exception. That was why he noticed the two guys heading his way. That was why, when he realized one of those guys was Monk Paletti himself, he took a last sip of that beer, grabbed his phone and his keys, and took off running toward the side door exit he always hung nearby.

  Monk and Teddy took off running after him, and they, too, ran out of that side door.

  But as soon as Too Tall ran out of that door, thinking he was getting away, a big, black Escalade suddenly appeared in his path and sideswiped him just enough that he was caught by the hip, tossed into the air, and dropped hard onto his ass.

  “Ouch!” he screamed in such a high-pitched voice that Monk and Teddy both smiled as they approached him.

  “Going somewhere?” Monk asked him.

  “That shit ain’t funny, Monk!”

  “Just get your ass up,” Monk said as he and Teddy grabbed Too Tall up. They opened the back passenger door, and threw Too Tall inside. Then they got in, too, and the Escalade, driven by Mick’s man, sped off.

  Mick was seated on the back passenger seat, and when they threw Too Tall into the truck, they threw him against Mick.

  “Ouch, that shit hurts!” Too Tall yelled again. But when he realized whom he had bumped into, he was shocked. “Mick the Tick? What the fuck?” Then, horrified, he quickly added: “I didn’t do it!”

  Teddy laughed. “Stupid fuck!” he said.

  “You didn’t do what?” Monk asked him.

  “I didn’t do whatever they said I did.”

  “Who said you did anything?” Monk asked.

  “Why else would you be here? Why else would Mick the Tick be here? And Teddy? I’ve never been in the same room with a Sinatra in my life!”

  “Then how did you know it was them?” Monk asked.

  Too Tall frowned. “What are you ignorant? Everybody knows Mick the Tick, what are you talking? I didn’t do it, whatever it is!”

  “We know what you did, asshole,” Teddy said. “Because you’re right: why else would Mick the Tick be here? Stop wasting our time.”

  It was those words from Teddy that seemed to bring Too Tall back down to earth. Because he knew, like they knew, Mick Sinatra would not be sitting in the back of that big SUV unless they already had the goods on him.

  “I was paid, alright?” Too Tall said. “After that hit with Checky Lonza failed, and after that shit in Maine failed, they called me in to round up some guys and try it a different way. So I did it.”

  There was a lot to unpack in that one statement, but Mick and Teddy let Monk handle it. Monk was a master at unpacking bullshit. And he started, wisely Mick thought, not at the who, but at the what.

  “What were you paid to do?” he asked Too Tall.

  “A tease hit,” Too Tall responded.

  They all knew what that meant. “How was it laid out?” Monk asked.

  “You were supposed to be in some woodshed in the back of your house, handling your old man for whatever reason. I wasn’t told why you would have your old man in the woodshed. But while you were in that shed, we were supposed to break into your house and find and kill the girl. Ashley, was the name I was given. A black girl I was told.”

  Teddy looked at Mick. Mick’s face was turning red just listening to Too Tall. Monk’s face was showing his pain. Ashley was the target? His Ashley?

  “So we broke into the house,” Too Tall continued. “We went looking for the girl. But we didn’t find no girl. Then one asshole thought he saw her coming out of the kitchen, and we all started firing. But it wasn’t nothing there. That’s when we knew the gig was up. You would have heard those gunshots even from that woodshed. So we took off.”

 

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