Where's Jimmy?

He gathered both her wrists in one hand over her head to kiss her breasts. "Haven't put a load on these puppies lately."

"Later. The first one goes against my cervix."

He found his mark and plunged home in one fast stroke. He held it there, amazed at her wetness.

She wriggled under his weight until she stretched enough to be comfortable. "I want you to make me pregnant before I get too old."

He pulled almost out of her and then pushed back in. "We'll get engaged when this crap is over. When we get close to the wedding, you go off the pill, and we use something else until the honeymoon."

She locked her ankles behind him. "Is that a proposal?"

"If you say 'yes', it is."

She used her legs to grind herself against him. "Yes."

He plowed her deeply, slowly at first, but speeding up as their passion rose. Frank knew the man at the door could hear them. The knowledge made him pound her harder.

"Fuck me, Frank!" she moaned, clamping herself to him tighter than ever. As her climax rose, she felt him get bigger and even harder. She mashed her fist into her mouth to stifle her cries when he pulsed and filled her.

Spent, they clung to each other when he pulled out. When they were almost calm, she put her hand on his wet penis. "You said something earlier about cumming on my tits."

*******

Frank's phone woke the couple at dawn.

"Boss, it's Joey. Hate to wake you up, but there's news."

"This better be good," Frank yawned.

"Hoffa did it all."

"What the fuck you talkin' about?"

"Surveillance video from the Parnelli fire and the warehouse yesterday. The Chinese have some guy who's good with that enhancement shit. There was an old guy who looked a lot like Hoffa sitting in the passenger seat of a car across the road when the bomb went off and when the shooting started yesterday. Different car each time, sped away when shit went down."

"Dammit. So there's more than one mask," Frank said.

"Or this time it could really be Hoffa."

"That's crazy talk, Joey. You woke me for this?"

"And to tell you Yuri Stanislav is dead."

"How?"

"Car bomb. Wife and kids too."

"Fuck!"

"Who kills kids, boss?"

"Someone ruthless. Of course, no one knows nuthin', right?

"Not yet. We're workin' on it."

"All right. Does Morelli know?"

"Paulo called me, and it's on the news."

"Listen to me, Joey. Get your mom out of town. Don't tell no one where she's going, not even me. No phones. Tell her to lay low. Don't trust nobody. Take care of my sister. Do it now."

"I'll keep her safe, Uncle Frank."

"Get dressed, baby," Frank said when he hung up his phone. "Someone took out Yuri Stanislav and his family."

"No! She was pregnant!" Carlotta cried.

"Not anymore."

*******

Carlotta drove them to the club in her car while Frank called Morelli.

"I assume you heard about Stanislav," Guido said when he answered. "Where are you?"

"On the way to the office in Carlotta's car. It was locked in the garage all night, and not too many people will recognize it. We'll pull it inside the delivery entrance at the club."

"Good thinking, but none of us are safe."

"No shit, Guido."

"The cops say the bomb under Stanislav's car was triggered remotely. It was warm last night, so a neighbor had her window open. She heard Stanislav pull out of his garage. A cell phone rang just before the blast. Whoever did it had to be somewhere with a view. The thing didn't explode until they were in the street."

"He was leaving in the middle of the night with the wife and kids?"

"Stanislav had the shit scared out of him."

"Me too," Frank admitted. "Stanislav probably had cameras."

"And bright street lights. Paulo took a copy of the video to that Chinese guy. A car drove right past Stanislav's Mercedes fireball. Old guy in the passenger's seat looks like the one from before."

"Hoffa."

"Or another mask, yeah. No good image of the driver - could be a man or a woman. Plates were stolen according to the police database."

"We gotta fight this fucker," Frank snarled.

"Yes, when we figure out who it is. Go to your club. Have someone go over the car before you pull it inside. We don't know when the bomb was planted under Stanislav - it could have been there for days. Lay low for a while. Have your men check your whole place. I'll be in touch." Morelli disconnected the call.

"I'm scared, Frank," Carlotta said.

"Me too, baby. Me too."

The club premises got a thorough housecleaning that morning. After lunch, the private line on Frank's desk phone rang. "Yeah?"

"Frankie," the caller wheezed. "You did some cleaning this morning."

"You got the wrong number, pal," Frank said.

"No I don't, Frankie."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"C'mon, Frankie. Our families go back a long way."

"Whadya want?"

"I don't have much time left. That's why I'm settling old scores. Shit didn't go the way it was supposed to, so I'm trying to fix it."

"What score do you have with me?"

The man made a sound like he was bringing up phlegm. "I was dumb the other day trying to take everyone out at once. Some of them guys had nuthin' to do with my problems, so maybe it's good I hired a bunch of meatheads."

"Who the fuck are you?" Frank roared.

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Just like your old man with the big mouth. I ain't gonna say my name over the phone, and you shouldn't either. Do you have any idea how many times the feds have tapped your line?"

"What do you want with me?"

"Do you remember where you caught your first fish, Frankie? You bragged about it for a month. You and your grandpa were on some guy's boat."

"Yeah."

"Remember where he kept that boat?"

"The marina?"

"Yeah. The owner went bust years ago. It's abandoned, but it hasn't changed much. Remember the tackle shop? Be there at midnight. Come alone, Frankie. I'll know." He coughed and hung up the phone.

Frank lit a cigar and paced his office, puffing smoke like a locomotive.

Carlotta walked in. "Baby, that call bypassed me."

"I know."

"Who was it?"

"He wants me to think he's Jimmy Hoffa."

"What did he say?"

"Shit."

A waitress from the club knocked on the doorframe. "Mr. Salvatore? I'm sorry to barge in, sir, but you should turn on the news." She scooted out of the office suite.

Frank grabbed the remote. The flat screen on the wall winked to life in the middle of a live feed from a cute young reporter. "Witnesses say the car was raked by automatic weapons fire on the street near his home. Mr. Morelli and his driver were pronounced dead at the scene. The shooter's vehicle was found abandoned in an alley a few blocks south. We'll have updates as we get more information."

The private line rang again. "Did you see the news?" the voice wheezed. "Almost tried to sell that attache case to you, but I needed cash, and Morelli had it. Then I learned shit about him. Hang on." He made some wet coughing and spitting sounds. "Morelli was a scumbag. He lied about Buffalino to the cops, so he probably lied to you. Anyway, don't tell no one about our meeting, and don't be late."

The phone went dead.

"Now you need to get on a plane, baby."

"Not without you," Carlotta stated.

"C'mere." He held his arms out to her, and she went to him. "You're staying in the apartment upstairs here tonight. The guys just went through the place top to bottom. I'll have Angelo get someone to give it a good cleaning and make up the bed."

She pulled back to look at him. "I'm staying here alone? Where will you be?"

"I have a late night errand to run. We'll have dinner here, go upstairs, play around, and then I have to go out for a while, so I'll need to use your car. I'll try not to wake you up when I get back."

"Where are you going?"

He kissed her. "Can't tell you that, baby. Somethin' I gotta do."

*******

That evening after dinner, Frank and Carlotta went upstairs to the room where they first made love. She was a cocktail waitress working her way through college. The bartender got another girl to cover her station while she went upstairs to talk to the boss. When she came down the next morning she was the club's new computer manager.

"Remember our first night?" Carlotta asked. Her top was already on the chair.

"I knew I'd fall in love with you if you actually came up here."

She was down to the lacy bra and boy shorts he bought her for Christmas. "I was all set to be little Miss Innocent with you. Some of the other girls knew about your love nest."

Frank chuckled as he undressed. "You know I never brought another girl up here after that. You reformed me."

She pulled the covers down and lay there on full display. "Reformed you? Is that what they called it in your neighborhood? I always called it sucking."

He lay down naked beside her and pulled her into his arms. "There was that, yeah, but we talked all night. I knew I didn't want no one else by morning."

"I came up here because I was desperate for a raise and heard this was a quick way to get one. I wasn't looking for love, but I knew I found it." She snuggled against him. "When do you have to leave?"

"About two hours."

She reached down to his manhood, hard against her leg. "I thought you were going to fuck me and ask me to leave that night. You didn't. With two hours to spend, you can make love to me like now you did then."

He fondled her breast. "Guess we're skipping the early part where I coaxed your clothes off."

She stroked him when she felt him leak on her hand. "I tried to act shy."

"Your act kinda fell apart when you tore a button off my shirt."

"You had two fingers inside me by then. I gave up on pretending."

They mated like they had the first time, familiarity not dampening the excitement. Each kiss was like the first, each touch felt new. They didn't need to say a word to get what they needed from each other. The music from the club below hid her wails of pleasure, and the bass track covered his grunts when he emptied himself into her.

Sated, they cuddled. "If this thing I gotta do tonight goes okay, we're going ring shopping tomorrow," he said.

"You have to leave soon, don't you?"

"Yeah."

She watched him dress. "I want you to wake me up when you get back."

"It might be pretty late."

"You said I 'reformed' you the first night."

He gazed at her pretty face and proud breasts, hardly changed from the girl he thought he would use to get his rocks off like so many others. "You did, Carlotta."

She licked her lips. "I want to do my definition of 'reform' when you get back. Go. Be safe."

He kissed her gently and left.

*******

The gate in the rusty chain link fence at the marina was open. Frank idled through, lights off, relying on the occasional working security lamp to guide him to the tackle shop. He parked and got out of his car. No movement, the only sound coming from wavelets licking at rotten moorings.

His phone startled him. Restricted number. "Yeah?"

The voice wheezed, "My chair sucks on gravel, and the light's bad. I'm on the other side of the shack."

"How do I know you're alone?" Frank asked.

A cough was the answer. "You don't. But you can probably hear me without the damn phone, and you can move better than me, so get over here."

Frank walked around the decrepit building, gun in hand.

A man sat in shadows in a motorized wheelchair. "Put the gun away, Frankie. Guns make me nervous."

"I think I'll keep it out."

"Bad manners."

"What is this?" Frank demanded.

"If I wasn't stuck in this damn chair I'd smack that attitude out of you. Put the fuckin' gun away."

"Who are you?"

The man coughed for a while. "I don't have much time, Frankie. But I'm tired of hiding. Now put the damn piece away so we can talk."

Reluctantly, Frank did. "Is that you, Jimmy? Mr. Hoffa?"

"Carpucci had real talent, didn't he? He used new materials in a trade handed down from his father and grandfather. The old man never paid the loan back because their skills were valuable. At this distance I bet you can't tell if this is a mask."

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm tidying up before I die. Repaying favors good and bad. Dad was a fair man, you know."

Three silenced bullets whooshed from under the lap robe, disabling both Frank's arms and one leg, dropping him to the ground. "That's why I wanted you to put the gun away," the man said. He discarded the robe, displaying his own firearm between skinny legs. "Haven't walked for years, and it's getting worse. It's degenerative."

"What the fuck?" Frank moaned.

The man pulled his mask off with his good hand.

"You shot me, motherfucker! Who are you? What do you want? Why are you doing this? I'm bleedin' bad here."

"I found some poor drunk to play the role with Morelli's guys, but I wanted the real fun for myself. Your father helped fuck over my father. I'm James Riddle Hoffa's other son."

"Other son?"

"Bradley Allen. It's good to finally meet you, since I know so much about you."

"What the fuck! You been followin' me?"

"Of course. When I was a kid I went with Dad sometimes, so I learned how to do it. His so-called hit was a ruse. He knew one was coming, so he faked it himself. Cost him a fortune to keep people quiet. I was born in 1976. Dad was on the run, but he met a girl. I'm the result - the son of a man who was supposed to be long dead. You wouldn't believe the places I called home. I look too much like him. Wore wigs and make-up to go out for years. Masks are easier now with only one good hand."

Frank was getting weak. "If you been hiding all your life, why wear a mask that looks like your old man now?"

"For this deal I thought it would be fun to look more like I imagine Dad would look if he were still alive instead of less." He coughed a smile. "Guess I'm doing things in his honor."

"Why are you killing people?"

"Dad gave me a list before he died of people he wished he could have rewarded or punished and why. Info on where to find you, everything. I almost burned it, but then I got sick. Being disabled gave me time to track everyone down. Now I'm doing what Dad couldn't before I die too.

"Why me?"

"You're on the list. Your old man was a rat. He told the feds stuff, the union, the mob, anyone who would pay. Bit the hands that fed him. Where do you think all the money came from? He was too lazy to earn it. Just like you."

"I work hard."

"Maybe, but you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I don't even have a birth certificate. Your lazy ass father was one of the reasons."

"What's that got to do with me?"

He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and spat into it. "I told you. Cleaning up loose ends. Settling scores. Booze took your old man, so I came for you. You were a pain in the ass to get to, with your geek gun moll whore at your side all the time. She's a loose end too, but she'll be easy to deal with when you're gone."

"Leave Carlotta out of this."

Jimmy Hoffa's bastard son raised his gun again. "People have to pay for their sins, Frankie." He shot him in the other leg and turned to roll away. "Bleed out, and pay for yours."