Gun Moll (33 page)

“Bullshit.”

“That’s the way
things are,” Mac said simply, offering little else.

“You know, if
women ran the mob, things would be completely different.”

“Really? How so?”

“For starters,
there would be none of these antiquated rules you guys have.”

“I like some of
our rules,” Mac said.

“Like what?”

Mac kissed her
forehead. “Respect and loyalty. It is what Cosa Nostra was built on.”

“That may be the
case but the men you work under now know nothing about such things. You have
more respect and loyalty in your pinky finger than them.”

“Now I definitely
could get used to compliments like that.”

His lips found
hers and Melina moaned as Mac’s tongue invaded her mouth. She nearly lost her
breath. His kiss was possessive and demanding. When his hand found its way
between her legs, rubbing her clit hard she moaned pressing herself closer to
his hand. Mac responded by slipping a finger inside of her and curling the
digit hard in just the right spot to make her shake so
hard
.

His mouth lifted
from hers. “You’re so soft and wet and sweet for me, doll. I love it when
you’re like this.” His tongue licked the seam of her lips.

And then his phone
rang.

“You’ve got to be
kidding me,” Melina said.

“Just give me a
minute.” Mac reached for his cell phone next to the lamp and answered it.
“Mac.”

Melina noted the
frown on Mac’s face as he listened.

“Yeah, Skip. I’m
on my way.”

Mac ended the
call.

“What is it now?”
Melina asked.

“Guido wants to
see me, and from his tone, he doesn’t sound happy.”

“When is that fat
bastard ever happy?” Melina asked.

Mac laughed as he
got out of bed slowly. “I’m still sore right now. I can’t take too much of your
humor.”

Melina admired the
firm curves of Mac’s ass while he dressed. “With the folks you’re dealing with,
you need my humor and everything else.”

“No arguments with
you there, doll.”

“Good. You’re
learning. Now, where does your illustrious Capo want us to meet him?”

Mac turned to face
her, a frown on his face. “Not us. Just me.”

Melina threw back
the covers and moved to the end of the bed, folding her arms.

“What would make
you think I’m just going to wait around here, if he’s pissed off with you?”

Mac put on his
shirt. “I can handle Guido.”

“I didn’t say you
couldn’t, but I don’t like you meeting him alone. We still have targets on our
backs.”

“I know that.
Finding out who’s after us and ending this is all I’ve been able to think
about, but I can’t risk anything happening to you. I need to meet Guido with a
clear head.”

“What the hell are
you saying, Mac? I’m a distraction?”

“Yes.”

There it was.

One word.

Why did it stab
her through the gut like a knife ripping her insides out?

“I didn’t mean it
like that, Melina.”

When he moved
towards her, Melina held up her hand to ward him off. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“There is no one
in this world that I trust more than you. I love you in a way I never thought I
could love, but the thought of losing you … I couldn’t take it, doll. If Guido
is on the warpath, then I need to be able to deal with him. If I know that
you’re here out of harm’s way, then at least I know that no matter what happens,
you’ll be all right.”

Melina sighed as
she looked at Mac. She could see the love he had for her shinning in his eyes.
He wasn’t asking this of her because he didn’t think she wasn’t capable of
watching his back.

He was asking this
because he loved her.

Because he wanted
to protect her at all costs … even if it meant leaving himself exposed.

“Sometimes you
have to think of yourself, Mac.”

He sat down on the
bed and took her hand in his. “When you love someone, you put their needs ahead
of your own. What kind of man would I be to risk you?”

“You’re not
risking me, Mac.”

“Yes, I would be.
Please, Melina. I don’t ask for a lot of things, but I’m asking you to give me
this. If things go sour, you’ll be the first person I call. I promise.”

He kissed her
softly on the lips. Her heart was tight in her chest. Staying behind was the
hardest thing he’d ever asked of her.

“This goes against
everything screaming inside me,” she said.

“I know, but I’ll
be fine. Remember I was doing all right before we met.”

Melina laughed.
“Yeah.
Just
all right, but if it will put your misguided conscience at
ease, then I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you. I know
how hard this is for you.”

“No, you don’t.
Now go and see what that pompous ass wants and don’t keep me waiting too long.”

She kissed him
hard, deepening the kiss the very moment he parted his lips to let her into the
heat of his mouth. He groaned against her lips before she pushed him away.

“You’re not
playing fair, doll.”

“All’s fair in
love and war. Now go.”

Mac stood up and
grabbed his keys from the bedside table. “I love you, Melina.”

“I love you, too.
Come back to me.”

“Always.”

And then he left
the bedroom. Melina sat on the side of the bed and listened as the front door
slammed shut. The longer she sat there, knowing he was alone and she was stuck
there waiting for him to come back, the worse she felt.

Deep in her heart.

Burrowing into her
soul.

Needling into her
bones.

Something wasn’t
right.

She felt it in her
gut and her gut had never been wrong.

Could Mac be
walking into a trap?

Melina rapped her
fingers to her knees, and shot a look at the clock. A fleeting thought passed
through her mind—a conversation, actually. One she had with a much smarter
woman when it came to the mafia and the lifestyle Melina was now surrounded by.

She had told Neeya
Pivetti that she didn’t know who was coming after her and Mac.

Neeya disagreed.
Don’t
you? Come now dear, you’re a bright girl. The answer is already in front of
you.

Had it been in front
of them for a long time? Longer than maybe Mac wanted to admit? Was it Guido
showing his jealousy over a solider he wanted to keep to himself and out of the
limelight of the family?

Mac trusted Guido.
He didn’t always like him, but he trusted the man because he was his Capo,
Melina knew. He wouldn’t look to Guido as the person who might want to harm
them. But to her, the Capo was no better than other men of his position—men
like Anthony.

The difference
between those two men? Anthony had gotten what he wanted from Mac, and he
didn’t hide the asshole he could be while he got it, either. And then he walked
away.

But Guido?

He hid everything,
including Mac.

Melina didn’t like
this at all.

Getting up, she
quickly dressed in a black tank top, jeans and spike heeled boots before she
threw on a leather jacket. Opening her nightstand, Melina pulled out the gun
Mac had given her and tucked it in her waistband.

No way was she
walking into a lion’s lair without a means to take it down.

Cosa Nostra be
damned.

The man she loved
was not about to pay the price for another man’s greed.

M
ac pulled his car
into the parking lot of Guido’s club. He cut the engine and pulled his keys
from the ignition. Shifting in the seat, he took some of the pressure off his
injured side. Despite how much he had done over the last few days to hide it
from Melina, his ribs and sore kidney were still giving him hell.

His girl worried
enough.

She didn’t need
him adding to it.

Still, he had a
feeling that whatever this meeting was with Guido, it wouldn’t be fun. The Capo
sounded like he was in a right and proper fit when he’d demanded Mac get his
dumb ass out of bed and make his way over.

The “dumb ass”
thing being Guido’s words, not Mac’s.

Mac couldn’t
figure out what in the hell he had done to not only warrant his Capo’s anger,
but also the man’s verbal abuse. Sure, he had seen Guido turn his nasty self on
other people in that way over the years, but never Mac.

Long ago, he had
earned the respect—and he thought the admiration—of Guido for his loyalty,
respect to the life, and his hard work. It was the only thing Mac strived for
in his life—to be a made man was the most important thing.

Guido knew that.

So yeah, Mac
didn’t understand.

Brushing off his
lingering irritation, Mac grabbed the small white grocery bag and opened it up.
He’d stopped at a corner store quickly to pick up an item he needed, but Melina
had refused him over the week, due to the doctor’s orders. Popping open the
plastic package, he quickly unrolled the long, flesh-toned support bandage.
Lifting his shirt up, he made quick work of wrapping his injured ribs as
tightly as he could. The pressure of the bandage allowed him to breathe better,
and he figured he would at least be able to move without showing he was in
pain.

Mac didn’t need
anyone thinking he was down and out, never mind weak. It would only lead to
some fool thinking he wouldn’t be able to hold his own.

No one needed
that.

Knowing he had
already made Guido wait too long as it was, Mac grabbed his Beretta, which was
resting in the passenger seat. He slid it into the back of his pants, but he
didn’t think he would need it.

The quicker he got
this over with, the faster he could be back with Melina.

That’s all he
wanted.

Mac was surprised
to find Guido’s club entirely empty of people. While it wasn’t business hours
for the club, the Capo almost always had a few men wandering around. There
hadn’t even been any enforcers outside, watching Guido’s car like normal.

It irked Mac.

Something didn’t
feel right about this at all.

Mac expected Guido
to be in his upstairs office, but found him sitting at the bar. The man’s large
form rested on a barstool. Guido didn’t make a sound as Mac approached loud
enough that he knew he was heard.

Silently, Mac slid
onto the barstool next to Guido. He found a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses
resting in front of the Capo. One shot glass was filled with amber-colored
alcohol, while the other was overturned and unused. Down a couple of feet from
Guido on the bar, Mac noticed a gray tub the servers used to transport dirty
dishes from the floor to the kitchen. By the looks of it, it was filled with
soapy water.

Yet, no one was
around.

“Slow day around
here?” Mac asked.

Guido snorted
under his breath, making his large form shake. “Something like that, kid.”

Mac bristled at
the term, since it didn’t sound entirely praising, but rather, mocking.

“What took you so
fucking long?” Guido asked.

“Traffic,” Mac
lied smoothly.

“Sure it wasn’t
that woman of yours?”

“She was sleeping
when I left.”

Another lie.

Mac figured it was
better to keep the man in the dark, regarding details about his personal
relationship with Melina, never mind her opinions of Guido. It wasn’t like they
would impress the man or anything. Mac didn’t see the point in filling him in.

Guido cleared his
throat. “She doesn’t know you’re here, then?”

“No. I’ll bring
her home some chow and say I went out to grab breakfast. She doesn’t ask much
about any of this.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t sound
like he believed that.

Mac chose not to
push it.

He took note of
the crumpled appearance of Guido’s black suit, his wrinkled dress shirt, and
the loosened tie around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot, and his usually kept
hair was a mess sticking up in every direction. It wasn’t like the Capo to look
so … slobby. Guido was all about appearances, and his current state spoke of
liquor, stress, and a couple of sleepless nights.

Again, that uneasy
feeling settled in Mac’s gut.

He tried to never
ignore it. It was there for a reason, after all. His hadn’t once let him down
before. It had saved his life a time or two, out on the streets.

What was it trying
to tell him this time?

“You’re looking a
little rough,” Guido noted.

Mac chuckled, and
ghosted the pads of his fingers over the cut above his brow. He still sported a
slice on his lip and a couple of bruises on his cheek, too.

The marks and pain
were worth it.

He was free of his
debt.

Free to be made.

“It’s nothing,”
Mac assured.

Guido pursed his
lips, giving Mac another one-over. Then, he grabbed the overturned shot glass
and set it back upright in front of Mac. “Have a drink.”

Mac flashed what
he hoped was a confident smile. “You know I don’t drink, Skip.”

“You do today.”

What?

“Skip—”

Guido cocked a
brow, shutting up Mac’s second attempt at a polite refusal. “Drink, I fucking
said.”

Damn.

He did not sound
pleased.

Apparently, they
were back to pissed off Guido, just like that.

Mac grabbed the
bottle of whiskey and poured a shot. Quickly, he downed the drink, barely
holding back his grimace as it burned his throat all the way down.

Guido nodded at
the shot glass. “Another.”

“Are you trying to
get me drunk or what?”

“My father used to
tell me you couldn’t trust a man who wouldn’t drink. So put some liquor in that
glass, and drop it back, Mac.”

Mac steeled his
features, wondering what game his Capo was playing now. He poured another shot,
and drank it down. The second was a lot smoother than the first. He let the
shot glass hit the counter with a clink.

“I take it your
father never met mine, then,” Mac said quietly.

Guido barked out a
laugh. “Probably not.”

“I’m not drinking
any more of that shit,” Mac said.

“I don’t expect
you to.” Guido waved a hand and added, “There’s a glass of water on the other
side of you. Grab it and wash it down. I know you’re not a man with a taste for
good liquor like the rest of us.”

Mac ignored how
that sounded like a digging jibe meant to hurt his pride, and turned on the
stool to grab the glass of water that had been placed on the bar just a foot
down the way. Leaning over to grab it, Mac had just grasped the glass when he
felt Guido move behind him.

He didn’t get the
chance to turn back around.

A shout died in
Mac’s throat as something wrapped around his neck, and he was pulled up off the
stool. The glass of water he had went flying at the same time, shattering and
spilling across the club’s floor. Guido heaved behind him, grunting as he threw
his weight backwards, taking Mac with him.

Instinct kicked in
for Mac and nothing more.

He couldn’t
breathe.

And that was the
only thing that mattered.

Not fighting. Not
getting away.

Catching a
breath
.

Guido was pulling
whatever was around his throat even tighter. Mac’s back hit the bar top as his
legs kicked out and he clawed at his throat. Pain bloomed in his ribs, taking
with it most of his fight and strength. His body was already weak from the
fights a few days before. He wasn’t up for this shit. Unable to even shout, as
he had already lost all of his breath, Mac tried to weave his fingers in under
the long length of material around his neck.

His vision
tunneled suddenly, blackening at the edges.

Jesus Christ.

Using one hand, he
made a fist and struck out at Guido. The man barely dodged it. Mac tried again,
but quickly decided trying to get whatever was around his neck off was more
important. He couldn’t fight back if he couldn’t fucking breathe. Then, Guido
started dragging Mac along the bar. He felt his gun fall from his pants, but he
didn’t hear it hit the floor. Mac tossed his weight back and forth, but his weakened
strength had nothing on Guido’s extra hundred or so pounds forcing him along.

He still couldn’t
even catch a breath.

“What’d I fucking
tell you, huh?” he heard Guido ask.

Mac’s mouth
opened, and he found his Capo watching him from up above. The cold blackness in
the man’s eyes was new. Who was this man?

“Fucking me over,
that’s what you were doing,” Guido continued, ranting away.

Mac felt his head
hit something firm, and Guido finally stopped dragging him along the bar. His
body felt weaker than ever with no oxygen running through his blood. His lungs
fucking burned like hell, and each time he tried to fight to get his body off
the damn bar, his ribs ached.

“Working with
Anthony behind my goddamn back; cozying up to Luca like I wouldn’t see it,”
Guido snarled. “I see that shit, Mac. And I made you, kid. You’re not going
anywhere that I don’t let you go. Do you fucking understand me?”

God.

Mac swallowed
convulsively, nodding. If it would help to let him catch a breath, he would do
it.

Guido barked a
laugh. “Liar. You’re just like your old man, Mac. A dirty liar. And a sneak.
You’re not going anywhere in this
famiglia,
unless I put you there. I
fucking made you—you are my
soldato
, not Anthony’s, and you’re certainly
not Luca’s little bitch boy to do with what he fucking pleases. I thought the
first little message of mine would be enough for you to get the hint. I thought
scaring you and your girl would be enough for you to realize you needed to lie
low, and get the fuck out of the spotlight. But no, you had to put yourself
right back in it.”

“I—”

It was the only
word Mac managed to get out—raspy and aching.

Guido grabbed the
tub of soapy water and tipped it up. Mac instantly arched off the bar as
steaming hot, soapy water poured over his eyes, down his face, and flooded his
open mouth. Being choked like he was, he couldn’t even force the water out of
his throat. Instinct caused him to cough, which made him swallow and choke on
even more soapy, hot water.