by Bethany-Kris
“I’m trying, Melina.”
There was an undercurrent of anger and frustration in his tone. She recognized it instantly and just as swiftly regretted saying anything. “Just forget it.”
Melina brushed past him and walked into their bedroom. Mac followed her, standing next to the bed as she curled up in the middle.
“What do you want me to say, Melina? That I fucked up? Fine. I admit it. I fucked up. I let someone get too damn close to you and that shit is eating me up inside.”
“I know that and I’m not blaming you. I just …”
Mac sat down beside her. “Then what is it?”
“I don’t want to lose our child.”
“I see,” Mac said simply.
“Do you? It was one thing to deal with all of this when I only had myself to be concerned with, but now we have a baby that can be caught in the crossfire. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to our child.”
Mac took her hand in his. “Neither could I. Do you know how long I lay awake at night staring at you while you sleep? I’m not much of a praying man, doll, but if showing the man upstairs a little reverence will keep the two of you safer than I can, I have no problem with showing a little humility.”
Melina knew how much it took out of Mac to admit that there were some things that were beyond his control. She could see from the tightness of his jaw and the shadows beneath his eyes how their current situation was wreaking havoc on him. The last thing she wanted to do was put anymore burdens on his shoulders.
“Whatever enemies that come against us we can fight, but we have to be able to see them first, Mac.”
“I know and I’m doing what I can on my end.”
Melina touched his face. “I know you are and I’m not blaming you for any of this. I need you to understand that. I’m just saying we could be better prepared if we knew who we needed to protect ourselves from.”
“I have a few suspects in mind.”
Melina raised a brow. “Anything definitive?”
“Not yet, but something is better than nothing.”
“That’s one way of looking at things. Have you checked on your mother and Victoria since all of this went down?”
“I’ve had guards on them around the clock.”
Melina gave her husband a half smile. “That isn’t the same thing. You need to go and see them. No doubt your mother is feeling abandoned.”
“What about you?”
“What about me? I’m going to take a nap. Enric is here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now go see your family before your mother wants to kick my butt. Besides, I think hearing our news will make her forgive your extensive absence.”
Melina pulled Mac close and kissed him softly on the lips before pushing him away.
“Just a taste, doll?”
She laughed. “There’ll be more when you get back. Don’t I always keep my word?”
“Indeed, you do.”
Mac leaned close and kissed her again. Hard. His tongue invaded her mouth and when he moved away from her again she felt bereft.
“You never play fair, Mac.”
“All’s fair in love and war. You taught me that, doll.”
Rising with a final wink, her husband left their bedroom. Feeling as if some of the gloom that had been clouding her mood was slowly lifting away, Melina laid down and held a pillow close to her body.
Yes. Everything would be all right.
Her husband would keep them safe. She’d never met a man more determined than Mac.
Family was everything to him and somewhere along the way it had become everything to her, too.
Melina didn’t know how long she’d been asleep.
What she did know was that her stomach was rumbling.
Stretching, Melina rolled out of bed and made her way through the apartment. Stopping in the living room, she found Enric sitting on the couch, sharpening the blade of a knife. She watched for a moment, listening to the rhythmic sound of the knife rubbing up against the stone.
It was soothing somehow.
Order in a chaotic world.
“If you’re going to keep watching, you might as well come and sit down.”
Melina laughed. “How did you know I was here?”
Enric turned to face her. “You do realize I’m pretty good at my job or your husband wouldn’t have trusted me to protect you, right?”
“Yes. I’m well aware of how much Mac trusts you.”
“Good.” He turned back to sharpening his knife. “I heard you in the bedroom when you rolled over and the minute your feet hit the floor, ma’am.”
“Remind me never to try and sneak up on you. Now, I’m going to find something to eat.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to a snack either,” Enric called out.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Walking into the kitchen, Melina went to the refrigerator first. She grabbed the jug of lemonade and poured herself a glass. Then she pulled out the ingredients to make pesto pasta salad with a side of proscuetto and fresh foccata bread. No doubt her husband would love a little something home-cooked when he made it back home. She was certain this pregnancy was going to put her in the Suzy Homemaker mode she had been running from for so long. Absentmindedly, she touched her belly as she reached for one of the large mixing bowls.
A loud crash made her stop what she was doing.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Gunfire.
Melina held back the scream that threatened to tear from her throat.
Looking around the kitchen, she grabbed a large steak knife. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. The sound of gunfire continued and then there was only silence.
And then she heard men’s voices.
Melina wanted to run, but she didn’t know what she’d be running into. Besides she’d never make it to her bedroom. She held her breath as the sounds of footsteps came closer to the kitchen.
“Hello, cunt.”
What the fuck?
James Maccari Sr. was pointing a gun at her.
“What are you doing here, James?” She struggled to keep her voice steady.
“Melina, I always pegged you for a smart girl. Don’t be stupid. You don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
She clutched the knife tighter in her grip. Fear clawed at the back of her throat, but she couldn’t give in to it. Not now. She had to survive.
For herself.
For the child that she carried.
Two men appeared in the kitchen behind James.
“What are we waiting on?” one of the men asked.
“I’m just waiting for my daughter-in-law to realize there’s no point in fighting and come peacefully.”
James’ henchmen came around him and toward Melina.
“If you think I’m going to just give up, you have another thing coming.”
Melina slashed at the man nearest her. The knife connected with his bicep. He grabbed it as blood started to pour from the wound. The other man moved toward her and Melina struck out again, but he caught her wrist and twisted it, forcing her to drop the knife. She cried out when she heard a loud crunch. Pain shot down her wrist, hot and burning. A hard punch to the face sent her stumbling to the kitchen floor.
“We could’ve done this the easy way, Melina, but now I don’t give a fuck. Take care of her, boys.”
Hurriedly she tried to pick herself up, but a kick to her ribs left her panting in pain.
“Fucking bitch.”
Melina bit her lip as hot tears cascaded down her face. She wanted to fight back. She wanted to rip their faces off, but her continued resistance could cost her the baby’s life. Instead, she allowed the two men to lift her to her feet. Holding her tight by both arms, they marched her out of the kitchen and down the hall. When they came to the living room, she saw Enric lying face down. His blood soaked the carpet. Two bullet holes in his back continued to ooze bloo
d.
She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
Enric was young.
So young.
Too young for the brutality of this lifestyle.
It was only when she noticed that three more bodies lay face down in the living room that she felt a small measure of comfort. Enric may have gone down, but he’d taken some of the bastards with him. Melina gasped as a sharp pain stabbed her in the side. Her ribs were bruised and possibly even broken from the force of the kick she’d received. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not ever. As she was dragged out of her apartment, Melina could only wonder just how deep the betrayal ran and if Mac even had a clue about the shit storm he was about to walk into.
“Ma?” Mac called, stepping further into the house. “Vic?”
“In the kitchen,” came the response.
Mac found his mother, and his sister, prepping dough at the island with flour up to their elbows. Both women looked perfectly happy in their element, and especially together. It made him smile.
It wasn’t often that he got sentimental, especially where his mother and sister were concerned. But seeing them like this, it reminded him of his younger years when his mother was just teaching them how to cook. Those were some of his fondest memories.
They hadn’t had a lot of money. That really hadn’t made much of a difference to the life his mother provided to him and his sister. Cynthia had given Mac and Victoria something better in her love, and that was what he remembered the most.
“Something smells good,” Mac noted, pulling up a stool to sit on.
Cynthia smiled over at her son, her hands still kneading the heavy dough. “I have a batch in the oven already. You can take some with you when it’s done.”
“If he stays long enough,” Victoria muttered.
“I’ll stay,” Mac assured.
“Where’s Melina?” Cynthia asked.
“At home, getting some rest.”
Mac chose his words carefully, knowing damn well his mother wouldn’t like the truth of the matter. He’d managed to keep the bomb incident from reaching his mother’s ears, and he planned to keep it that way forever, if he could help it. Cynthia wouldn’t like knowing how dangerous things were becoming for Mac, never mind Melina.
As it was, his mother didn’t approve.
She was barely dealing with the enforcers he had trailing her and watching her home.
Barely being the keyword.
“Is she not feeling well?” Cynthia asked, a smile starting to grow.
Mac wondered why on earth his mother would smile about Melina not feeling well.
“Something like that,” Mac settled on saying, still confused.
Victoria nudged her mother with her elbow, also smiling in a way that said the two were sharing a private secret that Mac was not privy to.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he was supposed to let this go on, but he was just about done with it all.
“All right, what am I missing?” he asked.
Cynthia tipped her head to the side, giving Mac a sly smile. “How long have you two been married now?”
“What does that have to do with you two acting strange?”
Victoria sighed, flicking her fingers at her brother and splattering him with dots of flour. He brushed off the spots from his suit as Victoria said, “Is she pregnant or what?”
“Victoria!” Cynthia exclaimed, looking mortified.
His sister acted like their mother hadn’t said a thing, never taking her eyes off of Mac. “Listen, Ma won’t ask because she’s too proper for it—your business, you handle it, okay. But Melina’s been shut in for a while. She hasn’t called me and she seemed tired the last time we did meet up, and maybe a bit more irritable than normal.”
Mac cleared his throat, amused. “And that made you think she’s pregnant? Because we all know Melina has her days, Vic.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Cynthia pressed her lips together and then quietly said, “She’s right. That wasn’t an answer, James.”
“You two are far too nosy for your own good.”
“I think what you mean is we’re very much alike,” Victoria replied, grinning.
Mac shrugged. “Same difference.”
Cynthia was not paying either of the siblings any mind, she only wanted her answer, Mac learned. “Well, is she? Pregnant, I mean.”
“Well …”
His mother stared, still and with excitement palpable.
She would be so happy, he knew.
Cynthia would make the best grandmother.
“Yeah, Ma,” Mac finally said, “she is. We’ve got an appointment next week to find out exact dates and all of that.”
If the shouts of happiness could have been any louder, Mac’s eardrums would have burst. He accepted his mother’s congratulations, and his sister’s, and then damn near fell off the stool when Cynthia wrapped him in a hug while pressing a kiss to his cheek.
As the two women chatted, lost in their own excitement, Mac slipped out of the kitchen and then out of the house altogether.
While he was visiting his mother to share the news of the pregnancy with her, he also had to chat with the enforcer he had posted outside of her house.
Just to make sure shit was good.
He found the man in his car, doing his job, thankfully. Some enforcers liked to slack a little when they thought they could get away with it. Mac had to keep up on that shit.
His enforcer rolled down the window as Mac approached.
“How’s it been?” Mac asked.
The guy had been put on detail after he’d pulled Enric to work on guarding his wife.
“Quiet,” the man replied.
“That all?”
The enforcer shrugged his big shoulders. “That fuck up you call a father came around last night, but he didn’t stay long after I told him to scram. Although, your mother was already in the process of doing the same thing. That woman is the strangest—”
“Back the fuck up,” Mac interrupted.
“Seriously,” the enforcer continued, “she brings me out cake and bread, or coffee, and then swears like a goddamn sailor at your father when he comes here drunk in the middle of the night.”
Mac’s hand slammed hard on the hood of the car. “Back. The. Fuck. Up. My father was here?”
The enforcer blinked up at him. “Yeah, but your mom said it wasn’t the first time and not to worry about it.”
After Mac had bought his mother her new house, he had been very careful about keeping the information from his father. Not that James Sr. couldn’t find where the house was and visit, but it wasn’t for him, and he knew to stay the hell away.
What was more concerning, was the fact that his mother didn’t feel the need to mention her estranged husband was still coming around.
“Next time, don’t let the bastard get anywhere near the front door,” Mac told the man.
Spinning around and not even waiting to hear the response of the enforcer, Mac jogged back to the house, entering and heading straight for the kitchen where he could hear his mother and sister still talking about baby-related things and family names.
The moment he was standing in the entry way, his mother seemed to know.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
Mac tried to school his features.
He didn’t want to be angry with his mother.
She was only doing what she had always done in regards to his father.
“James was here?” Mac asked.
Cynthia waved a flour-dusted hand high as if to wave off his concerns. “It’s no—”
“Don’t say that it’s nothing, Ma.”
Victoria frowned, giving Mac a pointed look. “He didn’t even get inside, Mac.”
“This time,” Mac argued. “This time he didn’t get let in because an enforcer is outside. How many other times has he showed up, forcing his drunk ass into your house and making demands? The old house is one thing, Ma, because his fucking u
seless name was on the deed. This house is for you—it’s yours, not his.”
“Watch your mouth,” Cynthia said weakly. “No swearing in my kitchen.”
“How many times, Ma?” Mac asked, determined to get an answer.
“It’s nothing important, really. I let him fumble and stumble around before he passes out, and then he’s gone before morning. He rarely makes it past the living room.”
“Ma!”
Cynthia’s gaze flew up at Mac’s shout, meeting his warily. “I—”
“How many times?”
“It’s just been the last few months,” Cynthia admitted quickly. “One night he came with dog bites up his arm, he clearly needed medical attention and …”
Mac wasn’t sure when the realization hit him.
At the dog bite statement, maybe.
He distinctly remembered the fact that Luca’s dogs had gotten the person who killed Matthew—or at least, bitten them a few good times before the killer got away. At first, it had been assumed the dogs had attacked Matthew, which was why Luca had been so adamant that night that Matthew was on the path and the dogs wouldn’t have attacked.
“When was that?” Mac asked.
Cynthia shrugged. “The morning after your wedding. I came home and he was at the old house. His arm looked terrible, but he tried to hide it.”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck … FUCK.
Mac knew what he was missing, now.
It had been his father.
All the issues …
The attacks …
He’d thought his father was too much of a fuck up to really be able to pull something like this off, and he’d totally overlooked the man. Still, the bomb made no sense. James Sr. had no skill of that sort, but maybe he knew someone who did.
Nonetheless, his mistake was James Sr.’s gain.
Mac already had his back turned to his mother, readying to leave.
“Did I do something wrong?” Cynthia asked.
He didn’t answer his mother.
He didn’t know how to.
Mac was halfway home when his phone buzzed with a call. Hitting the button on the steering wheel to answer, the call went through to Bluetooth and he picked it up.
“Mac here,” he said.
“I hear you wanted a sit down, Maccari.”
