Mick Sinatra: For Once In My Life Read Free

  The reason Leo didn’t want him in there in
the first place.   Flo’s ten-year-old son
Shane.   The child Flo had with her
deceased husband, a man who had been Mick’s friend and security chief.   On his dying bed, Flo’s husband asked Mick,
begged Mick, to take care of Shane as if he was his own.
    When Mick
saw Shane, piled on the other young people as if he was discarded rubble, or,
more likely, the cherry on top, his knees buckled.   He nearly fell.   But he didn’t fall.   He, instead, lifted the young man and held
him.   He removed his blonde locks from
his forehead and cradled him in his arms.
    He took it
to the head too.   But two shots, not
one.   He was the message.   The kill shot.   The understanding that everybody would get it
one way, but this one, the great man’s son, would get more.
    Mick took
the boy, laid him on the bed, and placed his arms folded across his
stomach.   And stared at him.   He was not Mick’s biological son, but
apparently the killer thought he was.   Which got Mick thinking again.   His eyes were so intense as he stood there, that his men looked at each
other, fearful of what would happen next.   But nothing happened.   Mick just
stood there, watching Flo’s child.   He
was not close to the boy.   He saw him
whenever he could, which was almost never, and provided financial support.   But he was still a kid.   Who would hate Mick so much that he would
kill a kid?   He stared at Shane, as he
fought back tears.
    And just
when his men were about to pronounce him superhuman for the way he was handling
the boy’s death, just when they were about to add this scene to the Mick
Sinatra mystique, Mick angrily grabbed the nightstand next to the bed and threw
it full force out of the closed window, crashing the window and decimating the
stand.
    Everybody
were so shocked by his sudden rage that they backed up themselves, afraid they
could be next.   Leo ran to the window,
leaned out, and waved off the guards who weren’t sure what had happened and
were already advancing toward the house.
    Leo looked
at Mick.   “You okay, boss?”
    “A kid,”
Mick said, as if he still couldn’t believe it.   “They killed a kid?”   Then his
voice rose.   “What fucker alive is bat
shit crazy enough to do something like this?   Who did this?”
    “One dead
motherfucker, that’s who,” one of his men answered.
    All of the
men froze.   Then looked at him.   Mick looked too. Only he wasn’t seeing what
they were seeing.   He wasn’t seeing a man
cocky enough to even attempt to appease him.   He saw what was bothering him about the scene to begin with.   Too methodical.   Too staged.   Like a show rather than a shooting.   And his instincts took over.   He
lifted his gun and pointed it straight at that cocky man’s head.   “Drop the weapon,” he said.
    But the man
lifted it instead, ready to take Mick out.   Mick, however, shot him before he got the chance.
    All the
other men backed away.   They all looked
at Mick.   Terrified for their own
lives.   But Mick wasn’t thinking about
them.   “He’s wired,” he said.    “My life I will bet on it.”
    Leo, unable
to accept that one of his men could be stupid enough to rat on Mick, hurried to
the dead man and tore open his shirt.   And Mick was right.   The guy was
wired, not only for sound, but for video too.
    “Motherfucker!”
Leo yelled, as he ripped it all out.
    And just as
he did, just as those listening and watching realized the gig was up, they
accelerated the game.   The sound of
gunfire was suddenly heard outside.
    Mick looked
at Danny.   “Stay with Shane and call for
men to get my children to safe houses!”
    “Yes, sir!”
Danny said, as he pulled out his cell phone.
    Mick, Leo,
and their other men raced downstairs and out of the front door.  
    But what
they saw staggered them.
    All of the
new guards were already down, all with bullets through the brain, as if this
shit had been