Mick Sinatra 3: His Lady, His Children, and Sal by Mallory Monroe Page B

had previously displayed.   “I guess that’s only fair,” he said, and
extended his hand.   “May I drop in
tomorrow?   See what the decision is?”
    Roz could hear the harsh intonation he placed on the
word decision .   He was pissed that a man of his stature
should be subjected to this kind of treatment.   She understood his concern.   But
she and Mick promised each other that there would be no secrets in their
marriage, and she aimed to keep her word.   She remembered when she found out that Mick had one of his ex-lovers
working for him, and he had failed to tell her about it.   She knew how violated she felt.   She wasn’t about to do that to him.
    “I’ll talk to him tonight,” she said to Hamilton, as
she shook his outstretched hand.   “I
should know something by tomorrow.”
    Hamilton smiled that soulless smile again, said
goodbye, and made his way across her parking lot, to his car.   Roz noticed that he was driving a
Mercedes.   But it had to be ten years
old.   My, she thought, how the mighty had
fallen.   But he had no business sleeping
with Tony Bellamy’s wife.   He brought
that downfall on himself.   She went
inside her building.
    Inside his car, Hamilton cranked up with a smile on
his face.   She thought he knew nothing
about her marriage, when he knew all about that marriage.   That was the only reason he had come.   But he never thought she would be so
solicitous to her new hubby.   He never
dreamed an independent woman like Roz would have to consult her husband on a
business deal that had nothing to do with her husband.   Which suggested to Hamilton that Roz not only
probably loved the guy, but might have been afraid of him too.   He’d read about the kind of past Mick Sinatra
was alleged to have had.   He hadn’t
counted on her loving a guy like that.
    But that was okay too, he thought, as he drove
away.   He had to work harder.   He would just have to put on the charm unlike
he had ever put it on before.   Roz was in
love with him when he broke it off with her.   He was going to have to summon all of his acting talents to give her no
choice but to fall for him again.   Because she was his absolute last chance.   Not to get back on Broadway.   Fuck Broadway!   He was pushing forty now.   He was getting too old for the parts he would
want to play anyway.   So Broadway was
out.   Retirement was what he was after.   It was high time for him to kick back and
enjoy the sweeter things in life without lifting a finger for a change.   He was addicted to the sugar.   After all these years of living the good
life, he was a stone cold addict.   And
Rosalind Graham, now married to a very wealthy man, was soon going to be his
main supplier.     

 
     

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

CHAPTER SIX

 
    The backdoor of the dilapidated restaurant flew open
and Adrian Sinatra flew out along with a hail of gunfire that barely missed
him.   He ran down the back stairs so fast
that he jumped the last four and hit the ground running.   His car, a jet black Camaro 2SS, was parked
across the street, and he knew it was his only means of escape.   Because they were running down those stairs
too.   Men with machine guns.   Men with automatic rifles.   Men who couldn’t shoot straight if their life
depended on it, but could shoot a needle in a haystack just because of the
amount of rounds they were willing to unload.
    He pressed his key fob to automatically crank his
car as he ran.   By the time he jumped in
and sped away, with those same men now standing in the middle of the street
firing on him in rapid succession, he felt as if he was having a heart
attack.   His chest was pounding!   But when he turned the corner, and then
another corner, and realized he was getting away, and realized those men had to
run back into their restaurant and bury those guns because sirens were already
being heard, he felt exhilarated.   He got
away!