Gangster Moll (Gun Moll Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  Luca was willing to see him.

  Mac checked the clock.

  Apparently, the boss would see him at five in the fucking morning.

  Quickly, Mac dressed, not bothering with the suit he’d usually wear to see the boss, but opting for a pair of jeans, a button down, and a leather jacket. Just outside the entrance of their apartment building, Mac found Enric leaning against the brick, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Mac pulled out his own pack and lit one up, ignoring the chill in the air as nicotine burned his lungs.

  “Heading out?” Enric asked.

  That much was obvious.

  Mac didn’t grace it with a response. “You never really sleep, do you?”

  “Will when I’m dead.”

  Enric wasn’t required to watch the building, the vehicles, or Melina while Mac was around. It was the young man’s only off time from the job.

  But that wasn’t how he worked.

  Mac appreciated it, and he sincerely hoped Luca knew the kind of son he had in Enric. The kid was doing this the right way—the whole Cosa Nostra thing, just like Mac had done.

  That was something to be proud of, really.

  “I’m going to catch a meeting with the boss,” Mac said. “I was going to call you and get you over here, but …”

  “Figured I already was?”

  “I was right.”

  Enric shrugged. “We don’t need another bomb incident.”

  Point taken.

  “Melina is sleeping,” Mac said, “so be quiet if you want to go in and get some food or chill.”

  “I’m good watching the sky, Mac.”

  Enric was a good kid.

  A little strange sometimes.

  He had a lot of mouth.

  But good.

  Without a goodbye, Mac headed into the underground garage to grab his Ducati. He figured it would get him across town to where Luca wanted to meet up a hell of a lot faster than his car, and then it would get him back faster, too.

  Traffic wasn’t bad, and Mac was just pulling into what looked to be a rundown, abandoned warehouse less than twenty minutes after he’d gotten the call from the boss. He made good time, if nothing else.

  Mac parked around back where his bike wouldn’t be seen by the highway, and made his way inside the warehouse. At first, the long hallway seemed quiet, but it wasn’t long before a loud snap echoed, like leather whacking hard against skin, and a muffled shout followed the hit.

  Mac followed the sound.

  He found Luca, and one of his usual enforcers, on the main floor of the warehouse. Mac’s shoes crunched on the dirt floor, and it took him a second to distinguish the form hanging from a hook.

  A man, it seemed.

  Bound, naked, and gagged.

  Hanging from his ankles.

  Mac’s eyes widened at the sight, but he quickly schooled his features.

  “That was quick,” Luca said, tossing the whip he’d been wielding aside to a table.

  The enforcer in the corner, a lever in his hand to control the hook the man was hanging from, never moved and didn’t give Mac’s arrival any of his attention.

  Mac was still staring at the man hanging from his ankles. The room smelled of blood, vomit, dirt, and piss. It was quite a mixture. He didn’t recognize the bleeding, bruised, and broken man, but the guy’s eyes begged for help.

  He didn’t have any to offer.

  “Amusing, isn’t it?” Luca asked, passing his victim a glance over his shoulder.

  Even while torturing someone, Luca dressed for his position in a three-piece suit that seemed clean of blood and dirt. Mac had no idea how his boss managed it.

  “What is?” Mac asked.

  “How quick they are to apologize once they understand the pain a mistake can cause.”

  Mac didn’t know what to say to that.

  Apparently, Luca wasn’t looking for a response, but he did wave at the hanging man. “As you can see, I’m still working on my end, Maccari. And this cafone is just about the closest I have come to getting anywhere.”

  “And he is?” Mac dared to ask.

  It was hard to say if Luca would answer.

  “A decoy,” Luca mused, smiling just slightly as he passed the guy another dismissive look. “Planted to distract me, I think. Seems the FBI thought putting a simple cop on the ground in plain clothes with a decent Italian accent would work to get him in one of my Capo’s crews. But again—he’s a distraction.”

  Mac wasn’t getting it. “Sorry, boss?”

  “I’m getting nothing from him—they’ve given him nothing to work with. They want my attention elsewhere, and I need to figure out why.”

  “Which crew?” Mac asked.

  “Audino,” Luca said.

  Corrado Audino was a Capo Mac tended to stay away from, if only for the fact the man housed his good for nothing bastard of a father. James Sr. worked under that crew for years after his brother’s death.

  Mac wanted nothing to do with it.

  “Seems a little strange that Corrado would have a mole in his bunch and not have even a suspicion about it,” Mac said.

  Crews were not that big.

  If shit like that was happening in his crew, Mac would know about it.

  Simple as that.

  It was part of being a good Capo.

  Luca chuckled blandly. “He did know—that’s why I am here, and well …” He trailed off, waving at the now-crying man. “So is he, hmm.”

  Ah.

  Now Mac understood.

  “You think they made him obvious for a reason, to keep your eye on someone else while they did work elsewhere,” Mac said.

  Luca waved a finger at Mac. “Sometimes you take too long to figure these things out, you know.”

  “It’s early as hell—give me a break.”

  “Nonetheless, I assume they believed I would not touch their garbage because he was so obvious. I feel like now I need to send them a message.” Luca gestured at the man again, adding, “My message will be ready later in the morning, of course.”

  Nobody could ever say Luca was not good at his job.

  Or serious about it, for that matter.

  It was a little dangerous—like sticking your hand in the fire—when it came to hurting cops so blatantly. Luca was asking for an arrest of some sort.

  Mac decided not to point that out.

  “Well, get on with it,” Luca said after a moment. “You wanted a meeting—what is it?”

  The time was now or never.

  Mac forced back the concern he felt over what he was about to ask his boss.

  “I need a sit down with Enzo,” Mac said, continuing on, before Luca could ask why he was demanding a seat with the family’s underboss and the only close friend the boss had left. “The bomb that was put on my wife’s car had to have been set up to the car’s locking system, and when it was unlocked by the fob, it blew. The car would have locked when Melina got in it to drive to the club—mechanically, of course. Because that’s what it does when someone drives off. We know the bomb couldn’t have been set at the club, it had to be somewhere else.”

  Luca was still staring at Mac, silent.

  He didn’t look pleased.

  “Fact is, Enzo is the only man I know in this state with the ability to make a bomb like that with the skill it would take to work the electronics on the car,” Mac finished.

  It took an entire three minutes before Luca spoke again, and two of those were spent by him whipping his captive until the man passed out.

  Mac was grateful Luca’s sudden aggression, likely caused by him, had gone elsewhere.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Luca muttered heavily, “but you’re wrong, Mac.”

  It wasn’t often the boss called him by his nickname. It was almost always “Maccari” to Luca.

  “I’m not thinking anything,” Mac replied respectfully.

  As respectfully as he could manage, that was.

  He was thinking something—that Enzo either had
something to do with the bomb, or knew who did. And while Mac was fit to kill, especially any fucker that messed with his wife, he had to go about this the right way.

  A way that wouldn’t get him a bullet and a makeshift grave.

  He needed Luca’s permission.

  “Deny it, boss, but those skills are passed down. If not Enzo, then someone he knows. People don’t wake up one day, knowing how to make bombs like this one,” Mac argued.

  Luca sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face and looking more tired by the second. “Give me some time—I want to look into this.”

  “You take care of the rat issue—I take care of the other issue. That was our deal, boss.”

  “Be that as it may, this is …” Luca trailed off, glancing at the enforcer who still wasn’t paying them much attention. He still lowered his voice when he added, “This is my friend—my very last friend—and you will give me that respect before I allow you a single fucking step toward him. Understood?”

  How was Mac supposed to argue with that?

  “I’ll wait on your call, boss.”

  As much as it killed him to say those words, Mac knew he didn’t have a choice. He would have to check his rage at least until he could do something about it.

  Luca dismissed him with a wave.

  Mac heard a splash of water and mumbled groans as he was leaving, the sound of whipping starting up once more.

  Mac strolled into his living room to find Enric seemingly passed out on the couch and the apartment quiet.

  Sleep when he’s dead my ass, Mac thought.

  He grabbed the tumbler glass full of water on the coffee table, holding it over Enric’s head and ready to pour it over the young man.

  Enric stopped him with a quiet, “Do that, and you’ll owe me a new jacket.”

  Mac laughed, willing to give the kid his dues. “You’ve got too smart of a mouth.”

  “Yeah, you keep telling me that, and it’s still working just fine.”

  Enric pushed off the couch, opening his eyes at the same time.

  “Head out,” Mac told him. “Today is an off day, Enric. I want quiet time, which means I’ll be here, with my wife. No one needs to be here. Take a day.”

  “Sure,” Enric said, already heading for the front door.

  Mac knew the kid wouldn’t listen.

  Once the apartment was quiet again, Mac headed for the bedroom, positive Melina wouldn’t have even noticed his absence. She was probably still sleeping, given the busy few days they had, and she was supposed to be resting as much as she could.

  Surprisingly, his wife wasn’t in their bed.

  No, Mac found her in the attached bathroom, a large white towel wrapped around her body as she ran a brush through the wet curls of her hair. Mac leaned in the doorway, thoroughly enjoying the view of his wife.

  Slick, caramel skin.

  The curve of her thighs.

  The swell of her ass.

  He liked it best when she didn’t know he was watching—then he could admire all of her silently, taking her in piece by piece.

  What a beautiful life—an amazing soul—she truly was.

  Perfect for him.

  Mac said nothing as Melina kept on with her routine, setting the brush aside and stepping back from the mirror. She glanced back at her reflection, her gaze darting downward. She undid the towel just enough to peek at her flat midsection in the mirror, almost like she was trying to see if there was any change.

  There wasn’t.

  Not yet.

  But Mac felt it … that change of what would be.

  And it was fucking amazing.

  He didn’t think his wife had ever looked more beautiful than she did right then, so unknowing of his presence, newly pregnant with their child, and so sweet.

  The rushing lust that suddenly climbed up his spine was crazy, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was mix of all that had happened, and his lack of ability or knowledge to do something about it when all he really wanted to do was love and protect his wife like he’d promised her on their wedding day.

  And maybe it was a little bit more, too.

  Like the way she looked.

  Even with those scratches and bruises.

  She was still so beautiful—crazy sexy.

  Mac slipped into the room before he could convince himself not to. Melina didn’t even see him coming before he had an arm around her waist and was pulling her back into him. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her temple and then he was sweeping her up off the floor, turning her around and sitting her back down on the counter.

  When that towel fell from her grip fully, exposing her soft skin and sinful curves to him, all of the stress Mac had been feeling was gone.

  He kissed her again, on her mouth that time, taking his time to taste her as she worked at the buttons on his shirt and pushed the article down his arms. He felt her hand tug at his pants, too, working them down around his hips just enough to get his already-hardened cock free.

  It was a little fast—maybe rushed.

  That was okay, too.

  “You weren’t with me when I woke up,” he heard her whisper in his ear.

  Mac kissed the delicate line of her jaw, making her tilt her head back as he spread her thighs wider to get where he wanted. She was wet and hot under the pads of his fingertips, silky fucking smooth and ready.

  He’d play later—keep her in bed all day with promises of bliss and exhaustion if she wanted.

  Right then he just wanted to love—to fuck.

  “Stuff came up,” he said.

  Melina didn’t ask another thing, but that could be because Mac had shifted his hips and with the base of his cock in his hand, he was right there at the entrance of her pussy. One hard flex of his hips and her heaven was taking him in entirely, fitting him perfectly and swallowing him whole.

  For those first few brief seconds, he was gone.

  Out of breath.

  Tight in stomach.

  Hot up his spine.

  God, he loved his wife.

  Melina’s fingernails dug into his sides as she pulled him toward her closer, her heels pressing into the backs of his thighs. “Fuck.”

  Nothing turned him on more than dirty words in her mouth.

  It wasn’t unusual for her to swear, as far as that went, but something as pretty as her mouth shouldn’t have filthy words on it.

  He really didn’t mind.

  “I’ll wake you up tomorrow,” he promised as he thrust in once, pulled out, and slammed right back in again.

  “The house isn’t going to be built in time for the baby,” she said.

  Mac grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him as he fucked her. Those worries of hers would be put to rest as soon as he could make them go. “The house will be ready, doll. Whatever you want, you know that.”

  Melina’s head fell back against the mirror when he let her go, his name falling from her lips as his tempo came a little faster—harder.

  Her words jumbled together as her bottom lip trembled.

  There, Mac, right there and Jesus and Fuck me harder.

  All Mac could feel was a slick heat, tight against his cock and his wife in his hands.

  That was really all he needed to feel.

  The rest of the world didn’t exist then.

  Just them.

  Melina stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She didn’t look much different.

  Except for the scratches on her face.

  Marks that were a stark reminder of what had happened to her and how it could’ve been so much worse.

  At first she’d worried that the scrapes would leave permanent scars, but now it didn’t matter. Beauty was only skin deep. There was something so much more precious to worry about. Reflexively her hands touched her abdomen. It was flat and toned, with no evidence that something wonderful brimmed beneath the surface.

  She was pregnant.

  She didn’t know how or why the tiny baby growing inside of
her had chosen now to come to life. This wasn’t the ideal situation to bring a child into, especially when at any moment she or her child’s father could be taking their last breaths. Their child could die before it ever had a chance to really live. Fear touched the back of her throat, like a soft breeze. A gentle reminder that though she was safe at the moment, it could quickly change.

  Melina was going to be a mother and though she hadn’t said much to Mac, she was struggling. For the first time in her life she had someone to protect, whose very existence depended on her. It was a heavy burden to bear.

  “Not a burden. A blessing,” she whispered to herself.

  Yes. The child she carried was a blessing conceived from the love of she and her husband. She couldn’t help remembering the look on Mac’s face when the doctor had revealed the news.

  Pure, unadulterated joy.

  If she hadn’t been so shocked, she might’ve cried.

  Mac wanted children, and now she was going to give him a child. Melina had no idea if she carried a boy or a girl and truthfully, to her it didn’t matter. As long as their child was healthy, that was her only concern.

  “What are you doing, doll?”

  Mac came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  His lips continued to nuzzle her neck. Melina shivered at his touch.

  “Our baby.”

  Slowly, Mac turned her in his arms so that they were facing each other. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rubbed her check with his thumb.

  “Still doesn’t seem real, does it?”

  Melina shook her head. “No, it doesn’t.”

  “You know I would never let anything happen to either of you, right?”

  Mac searched her face, everything in his gaze beseeching her to believe him.

  “I know that you will move heaven and hell for me and this baby.”

  “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  Melina sighed, unsure of exactly how to put into words the tangle of emotions that were plaguing her.

  “You can’t protect us from everything.”

  There.

  She’d said it.

  She had spoken into existence every secret terror that had newly begun to steal her happiness.