Reno's Gift (Mob Boss Series) Read Online Free Page A

“It got out of hand!   It got out of hand, Bruno.   But you was all for it, right?   You like this shit.   You wanted it, didn’t you, Brew?   You was all for this you sick piece of
shit!”   
    Then
Reno grabbed the detached penis and shoved it into Bruno’s mouth.   Bruno gagged as his head lobbed
backwards.   “Suck on that cock, you
cocksucker!” Reno roared.   “Eat it, you
asshole, eat it like it’s the best meal you ever had!   You want it, right?   You want this!”
    And
Bruno Lucci, to the amazement of even hardened men like Frank Spillane and
Mikey Katana, ate cock that day.
    The
cops were also called that day and everybody but Bruno agreed that the girl
must have castrated him.   The girl was
too traumatized to remember.   And the two
other men who had been in that room when the rape occurred, testified against
Bruno too, claiming to have run for help when Bruno began his
brutalization.  
    The
Dolph didn’t live to see the completion of his son’s trial, as he suffered a
massive heart attack and died two weeks before closing arguments.   It dismayed Reno greatly, but he didn’t have
an ounce of remorse.   Not for a bastard
like Bruno.
    And
when the sentence came down and Bruno received ten-to twenty years, Reno still
didn’t celebrate.   He saw what that jerk
was capable of.   He wanted that jerk to
suffer.   And even though it wasn’t nearly
enough punishment to Reno, he knew Bruno would have a far different view.   Because he knew assholes like Bruno.   They talked a big game, but were nothing more
than weak punks in the end.   To a man
like Bruno Lucci ten-to-twenty years in prison was his nightmare come
true.   They might as well had given him
Life.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
    ONE

 
    Ten Years Later

 
    The seagulls
lifted their wings and flew across the Jersey shore like scavengers on the
hunt. In Atlantic City, Reno and his oldest son, Jimmy Mack Gabrini, walked
slowly along the boardwalk as the gulls squawked and squealed and competed for
attention.   It was an overcast early
morning, barely seven a.m., and the tourists that were already out and about
were few in number.   Both Reno and Jimmy
were out in force, however.   Both of them
wore Bermuda shorts that dropped along their thighs, and although Jimmy wore a
dark blue Lakers t-shirt tucked out, Reno wore a pullover V-neck shirt tucked
in.   They arrived in town yesterday
afternoon.   Jimmy, at his father’s
request, sat in on a number of business meetings that lasted well into the
night.   But before they headed back to
Vegas, Reno wanted to talk.
    “Tell
me what you think,” he said to his son as they walked.
    “I
don’t know, Dad,” Jimmy replied.   “It
looks kind of dead to me.   All I see is a
bunch of old buildings and a bunch of old people walking around.   Not that there’s anything wrong with old
people, of course there isn’t.   But the
PaLargio is young and hip.   Atlantic City
seems old and. . . well, old.”
    Reno
smiled.   “You suffer from a disease my
son.   You know what that disease is?”
    Jimmy
inwardly chuckled.   “No, sir,” he said,
“but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
    “You
can only see in the moment,” Reno responded.   “That’s what you suffer from. Momentary sight.   Yes, at seven a.m. it’s an old crowd.   Why wouldn’t it be?   But Atlantic City after dark is as young and
hip as Vegas.   Maybe even more so because
the young people here have more purpose.   They aren’t wandering around making spectacles of themselves, they’re
spending their hard-earned coins in the casinos and the clubs and making
businessmen all across this region very happy indeed.   We were too tired to get out last night after
all of those meetings, but believe you me this place, at night, is on fire.”
    “Even
so,” Jimmy said, holding true to what he believed, “I don’t see this as a
PaLargio kind