Reno and Trina were back at the penthouse when Gemma, along with her husband, mob boss Sal Gabrini, arrived.  Jimmy had the children, including the baby, in his downstairs apartment so that they would not have to hear anything about the incident.  Reno was on his cellphone and pacing the room.  His once pristine Armani suit was now wrinkled and worn, and his shirt tail was hanging out.  But Trina looked beautiful and serene.  Sal and Gemma hurried to her.  She sat on the sofa sipping a glass of wine.

“I’m fine, guys,” she said as they both hugged her and sat on either side of her.  “Thanks to Reno.”

“But what happened, Tree?” Sal asked.  He had his arm around Trina’s waist while Gemma had her arm around Trina’s shoulder.  “I heard that fucker nearly pinned you against a brick wall.”

Trina lifted her eyebrows at the mention of that horrid scene.  “He did,” she said.  “Reno and me both.  If Reno hadn’t literally lifted me into his arms and threw us on the hood of that car, it would have been . . .”  Trina closed her eyes.

Gemma leaned her head against Trina’s.  “Say no more,” she said.  “We get the picture.”

“But out of the blue like that,” Sal said.  “I wasn’t back in town ten minutes when Gemma’s calling and telling me that shit.  It’s like we’ve been having peace, a decent run of peace, and now this shit.”

“I was at the courthouse when I found out,” Gemma said.  “One of my friends on the Force told me about it.”

“What’s Reno saying?” Sal asked Trina.

Trina shook her head.  “He’s been working the phones since we got back.  But the police are saying it was a drunk driver.”

“That’s what I heard, too,” Gemma said.

“A drunk driver at lunch time?” Sal asked.

“It’s possible, Sal,” Gemma said.

“I know it’s possible.  I didn’t say nothing about it not being possible.  I just don’t know if I believe that shit, that’s all I’m saying.”  Sal Gabrini was a major mobster who made it his business to keep his business deep and undercover, and Trina and Gemma both dismissed his concern as usual Gabrini suspiciousness.

But Reno didn’t.

He finished his phone call and joined the threesome at the sofa.  He sat on the coffee table in front of them.

“You look good for a change, Reno,” Sal said with a grin.

“Fuck you, Sal,” Reno replied with little heart in it.

“Who were you on the blower with?” Sal asked.

“Tommy called,” Reno responded.  “Then Uncle Mick.”

“We told Tommy,” Sal said, “but how in the world does Uncle Mick find out about everything so quickly?”

“I think he keeps tabs on us,” Reno said.  “That’s the only way I can figure.”

“Grace called me too,” Trina said.  “She and Tommy wanted to leave Seattle and come and see about us, but I told her that wasn’t necessary.”

“I told Tommy and Uncle Mick the same,” Reno said.  “Then I had a conversation with Bo,” Reno responded.  “I had to deal with some PaLargio shit.”

“You need to have that driver checked,” Sal said.  “That’s what you need to be dealing with.”

“I already have, for your information, hot shot.  I ordered a crew to check him out already.  Because you’re right.  That shit don’t smell right to me, either.”

“I don’t know why you two would think something more is at play,” Gemma said.  “One cop told me the car reeked of alcohol as soon as the police applied the Jaws of Life and pried that door open.”

“That’s what they told us at the scene, too,” Trina said.  “They said he was drunk and lost control of the car.  It was an open and shut case to them.”

“Yeah, right,” Reno said.  “Then he sobered up real quick when he backed up and tried to flee the scene.”

“You took care of him?” Sal asked.

“Damn right I took care of him,” Reno said.  “No fucker alive is going to nearly kill my wife and then just drive away la di da.  Like hell.  He wasn’t getting away with that.  Even those cops said I was justified.  Even those cops said he was using his car as a weapon, and I had every right to defend my wife and myself.  Those cops hate me, but even they wouldn’t arrest me.”

“They might hate you,” Gemma said, “but they fear you too.  That may be more of a factor in your non-arrest than the circumstances.”

Reno looked at Gemma.  He always had a special place in his heart for her.  “The fact that I shot him isn’t going to help your campaign,” he said.  “Is it?”

“No,” Sal answered for her.  He also knew Reno had a soft spot for Gemma, and he still didn’t like it.  “It’s not going to help her at all.  Fuckers already lining up questioning her Gabrini ties and if they can trust a Gabrini in the D.A.’s office as it is.  And now this shit happens?”

“Well what did you want me to do, Sal Luca?” Reno asked.

“What do you mean what did I want you to do?” Sal asked.  “I wanted you to kill that motherfucker, that’s what I wanted you to do.”

“Right,” said Reno.  “That’s what I did.”

“Right,” said Sal.  “That’s what you were supposed to do.”

“Then what the fuck you jawing on about, Sal?”

“What jawing?  I’m answering your question.  You asked if this shit was going to hurt my wife’s chances.  And I said yes, it is.  That’s the truth.  But that doesn’t mean you did something wrong.  It just means it doesn’t help.”

“It doesn’t matter, Reno,” Gemma said.  “The people who are going to vote for me already has my family name and family ties baked in the cake.  To those people who support me, Sal is just a businessman to them and rumors of his mob activity are just that: rumors.  For those who weren’t going to vote for me anyway?  It just confirmed what they suspected all along: trouble follows the Gabrinis wherever they go.  But I wasn’t going to win their votes anyway.”

“You just need to make sure your supporters turn out in big numbers,” Trina said.

“That’s it,” Gemma said.  “And that’s what my campaign is focused on.”

Then Reno’s phone’s intercom buzzed.  He pressed the button.  “Yeah?”

“Mr. Siranno is here to see you, Boss.”

“Let him in.”

The front door opened, and Stef Siranno, Reno’s senior security chief, walked in.

After saying hey to everybody, he got down to business.  “The driver’s name is Earl Clemmons, sir,” he said.

“Sounds country,” Reno said.   “Is he a southerner?”

“He’s country.  But he ain’t that country.  He owns a backhoe company over in Henderson.  He likes to gamble and comes to Vegas often to do just that.”

“So he’s a gambler?”

“Yep.  A high dollar gambler at that.  And he’s a heavy drinker.  He apparently suffered big losses today at a couple casinos, the PaLargio wasn’t one of them, and word is he might have been suicidal.”

“So what does that mean?” Reno asked.  “It was either intentional or unintentional.  The cops said it was unintentional.  You’re saying it could have been both?”

“That’s what it’s shaping up to be,” Stef said.  “Maybe he even knew who you were.  Maybe he knew you were the owner of the PaLargio.”

“But I thought you said the PaLargio wasn’t one of the casinos he frequented,” Reno said.

“It wasn’t,” Stef said.  “At least not this time.  But he could have saw you walking with your wife at a time he was looking to get out, and decided to take you, a casino owner when casinos were the bad guys in his book for taking all of his hard-earned money, along with him.”

Reno still wasn’t convinced.  “Keep checking,” he said.  “That fucker tried to hit and run, is what I saw.  And a hit-and-run don’t jive with what you’re telling me.”

“We’ll keep looking,” Stef said.

“Don’t just keep looking,” Sal said.  “Dig deeper, motherfucker!  We need to know for sure.”

Stef normally didn’t like anybody other than Reno telling him what to do, but he knew who Sal Luca Gabrini was.  He knew that fucker was a major mob boss fronting as a businessman.  Sal was the exception.  “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Put additional crews on it,” Reno said.  “I want answers, and I want them today.”

“Yes, sir,” Stef said.  He was disappointed.  He thought they had done a thorough background.  But Reno still had too many questions.  And when the boss had too many questions, that meant he hadn’t done shit.  “I’ll get right on it,” he said, and left.

Sal looked at Reno.  “I’ll have my men asking around too.  Just in case yours miss something.”

“I appreciate that, Sal,” Reno said, as his cellphone began to ring.  “I’ll take all the help I can get at this point.”

“Earl Clemmons,” Sal said.  “It almost sounds like a front name.  Yeah, I’ll be happy to check that fucker out.”

“Yeah, Bo,” Reno said as he answered his phone.  “What’s up now?”

“Another one came,” Bo said.

Reno’s heart dropped.  And he ran his hand across his face.  “Alright, I’m on my way down,” he said, and ended the call.

“Don’t you think the PaLargio can wait at least for today, Reno?” Sal asked.

But Reno didn’t respond to that.  Nobody told him how to run his business.  Not even Trina.  He stood up, leaned over, and kissed Trina on the lips.  “I’ll be back,” he said, and left.

Gemma and Sal looked at Trina.  “Reno can do better than this, Tree,” Gemma said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sal said to his wife.  “Tree’s used to it by now.”

“Sal’s right,” Trina said.  “I am used to it.”

“But?” Gemma asked.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not tired of it,” Trina responded.