Gun Moll (37 page)

Which wasn’t a
complete lie.

Luca didn’t seem
to be satisfied with that answer. “Let the lawyer handle it. You do not need
attention on you right now being newly made, Mac. Cops have a way with fresh
meat, like you’re an easy way in for them. Do not give them that opening.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Still, I’m
watching,” the boss warned.

“She’s not going
to talk, Luca.”

Luca’s gaze
lifted, and his lips drew thin. “For both your sakes, I certainly hope not.”

“The lawyer is
going to have her plead no contest to the charges, and that’ll force the cops
to drop the questioning and demands on our side of things,” Mac explained.
“They’ll get something, but nothing from us.”

“And your woman
will be … where?”

Mac’s jaw ticked.
“Randy said seven months, maximum time.”

“That’s a bit of a
wait for a woman, isn’t it?”

Not when a man
loved that woman.

Mac chose not to
say anything about that. “I have a request.”

Luca sighed,
sitting down on the edge of the desk. “Go ahead.”

“Melina’s
sentencing. I want to go. I’ll be in the back, out of sight. I haven’t even
gone to visit her. I’ve kept my head down like you wanted. I want to be there
for that, Luca.”

“I’m not sure
that’s a good idea.”

Mac shook his
head. “If she were my wife, this wouldn’t even be a question of asking, Boss,
and you know it. You would already have her out of jail.”

“And whose problem
is that?” Luca asked.

“I was working on
the wife thing before the arrest happened.”

“But she still
isn’t your wife, Mac. And I can’t allow a man of mine to handle just any woman
with the same treatment a wife would receive.”

Mac blew out a
frustrated breath. “She’s—”

“I know the woman
is important to you,” Luca interrupted. “You will stay in the back?”

“Head down,” Mac
promised.

“Do your best to
keep from being pictured.”

“Absolutely, Boss.”

Luca waved a hand
in Mac’s direction, saying nothing. He didn’t need to. His actions were clear.

Dismissed
.

Mac heard the
click-clack of heels approaching the door, and his smile was already growing.
It felt like he hadn’t smiled in weeks. Well, since Melina was taken from him.

As the door swung
open, revealing his mother, Mac’s grin widened even more at her lit-up eyes.
She wore a navy blue dress that fell just below her knees. Her hair was pulled
up into a neat up-do, her makeup done modestly.

Cynthia looked
more than ready for Sunday services.

“I thought you
weren’t coming,” she said, reaching for him.

Mac let his mother
pull him into a tight hug. “Of course, Ma. You invited me to church.”

And now that he
was finally free with his schedule, for the most part, and wasn’t running
around for Guido all the damn time, he could spend Sunday mornings with his mother
in a church pew. Mac knew it made her happy when he attended, so he agreed.

Cynthia peered
over Mac’s shoulder, her brow furrowing when she couldn’t find what or whom she
was looking for. “Where is your girlfriend? Melina, right?”

Mac cringed, but
hid it quickly enough with a smile. He knew that his sister had been singing
Melina’s praises as much as she could to their mother. Victoria loved the time
she had spent with Melina, and she wanted their mother to like her, too. No
doubt, Cynthia had assumed her son would bring his girlfriend along.

She couldn’t think
any differently.

Mac hadn’t told
her about Melina’s recent troubles.

He also didn’t
want his mother to worry.

“Melina had a last
minute trip she had to take,” Mac said.

It wasn’t a
complete lie.

Cynthia frowned,
stepping back from her son. “Oh. Why?”

“Emergency stuff.
We weren’t expecting it. She might be gone for a little while.”

Again, not a total
lie.

Mac would lie his
ass off to just about anyone, if he thought he could get away with it, but he
didn’t like lying to his mother. It wasn’t right—she raised him better than
that. But he didn’t think his mother would appreciate knowing about Melina’s
legal problems, given she barely knew her, and already had an opinion as it was
about the type of business Mac was involved in.

Some things were
better left unsaid, or in his mother’s case, unknown.

“Family things?”
Cynthia asked.

Mac shrugged, not
giving a verbal answer. “Are you almost ready? Victoria said she would meet us
at the church. You don’t want to be late, huh?”

Cynthia nodded at
the reminder. “Just let me grab my purse, James.”

He chuckled as she
disappeared back into the house. No matter how many times he told her to call
him Mac, as he preferred, he would always be James to his mother.

Once Cynthia was
back outside, Mac tucked her hand around his elbow and led her down the walkway
towards his car.

“How have things
been?” she asked.

Mac patted her
hand. “Great, Ma.”

Okay.

That one was a total
lie.

Things were awful.
He was lonely as shit. And nervous as hell for Melina.

Thankfully, his
mother didn’t notice his fib.

Cynthia tightened
her hold on his arm.

Mac noticed her
slight frown, and wondered what was going on in that head of hers. “Something
wrong, Ma?”

She shook her
head. “Not exactly.”

“That doesn’t
sound like everything is right.”

“Well, your father
has been coming around more often. And you know I don’t like to tell him to go
away …”

Mac scowled nine
ways to Sunday. No doubt, his deadbeat father had heard the rumors of Mac’s
recent initiation into the Pivetti Cosa Nostra and wanted his little slice of
the pie, if he could manage to get his useless hands on a piece.

No way.

Mac worked too
fucking hard for that nonsense.

“Has he mentioned
why?” Mac asked.

Cynthia shrugged.
“No, but he’s been mostly sober.”

Mostly
.

Mac’s irritation
climbed a notch. “If he bothers you, let me know.”

Cynthia patted his
arm gently. “He’s still your father, James.”

Right
.

Because that made
all the difference.

Not to Mac.

Head down, Mac
rapped his knuckles against his knee. Knowing he was being far too jittery, and
that might draw attention, he forced his nerves back and sat a little
straighter in the hard courthouse chair. He rested his ankle over his knee and
sat still, surveying the throng of people in the courtroom.

Straight ahead,
about ten rows up, Melina sat with her lawyer. When the judge demanded she
stand for final sentencing, she did as she was asked with no question.

Mac had to bite
his inner cheek just to keep himself from calling out her name. He didn’t know
if the lawyer had filled her in on his presence in the courtroom or not. He’d
let Randy know earlier in the day that he would be there, but that he needed to
stay out of sight—Luca’s orders.

It fucking killed
Mac.

Seeing Melina in a
drab gray suit, hands cuffed and simple white, slip-on shoes with no laces
killed Mac. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the nape of her
neck, and her face was clean of any makeup.

The girl was still
goddamn beautiful.

But it was
killing
him.

All over again,
Mac started rapping his knuckles to keep his attention diverted on something
other than the swirling mass of emotions beginning to compound inside his
chest. Maybe Luca had been right. Maybe Mac shouldn’t have come here today,
seeing as how he could barely fucking keep control of his anger and sadness.

Mac heard the
sentence come down in the background of his thoughts.

“Two hundred and ten
days to be served consecutively in the jail, time already served reducing the
sentence to one hundred seventy-five days.”

Mac did the math
in his head.

A little over five
and a half months.

His chest constricted
as the gravel banged down, serving the judge’s words as final.

Mac caught sight
of Melina’s profile as the bailiff approached, and she turned to speak with her
lawyer. He stood, because other people were beginning to move for the next case
to be heard, and he couldn’t see Melina anymore.

Standing was the
wrong thing to do.

Seeing her made
him feel bad all over.

She was frowning,
her lips moving as she spoke quickly to Randy.

Pain. Sadness.
Desperation.

Mac couldn’t stop
himself, he was already moving forward into the side aisle, approaching Melina
from behind the railing separating the floor from the viewing area.

“Doll,” Mac called
out.

Melina didn’t hear
him. She held her hand up to the bailiff, asking for just a moment as Randy
shrugged in response.

“Melina,” Mac
said, louder the second time.

Finally, she
turned. All that pressure and pain in his chest suddenly deflated in an
instant. The very moment her eyes met his.

He could see
relief there.

And confusion.

Mac’s hand met the
wooden rail, and he was reaching over it towards Melina with his other. Despite
the bailiff telling him to step back, and moving towards Melina, she reached
out to Mac with her shaking, shackled hands.

The second her
skin touched his, he was okay.

And he hoped she
was, too.

“I love you,
doll,” he murmured.

Melina nodded. “I
love you.”

“Take a step
back,” the bailiff ordered again.

Mac ignored the
man, tugging on Melina so that she was just close enough for him to lean
forward and catch her lips with his own. The kiss didn’t last long, but it was
enough for him to hear murmurs around them, and see the flash of a camera going
off.

He cursed
silently.

Already, he could
see the headlines.

Suspected Mobster
Kisses Hooker Girlfriend Goodbye
.

Fuck them.

Mac would take
Luca’s anger when it came.

Melina was far
more important.

She would always
be.

“I love you,” he
told her again, holding her gaze strong. “I’m sorry, doll.”

Mac didn’t have to
explain what he was apologizing for; Melina had to know. His distance, not
being able to come and see her, and the next few months she would be alone
without him.