by Bethany-Kris
Then again, he’d never gotten close enough to the Pivetti Don to ask anything.
But with this fight tonight, going hand to hand with a made man in another family, Mac might be asking for trouble he didn’t want or need. Junior was made, as far as Mac knew. Mac wasn’t, but beating the hell out of the guy wasn’t a quick way to get his button. Especially if someone caused any trouble about it.
Sore losers, and all that jazz.
“You want to fight or not?” Cordial asked, slapping Mac’s fists hard.
Money.
Mac needed some.
That goddamn roof at his mother’s wasn’t going to fix itself. He had his car payment and rent due, plus his sister had mentioned she was looking at a starter home. Mac wanted to help Victoria out with that, even if she hadn’t asked for money.
Cash, cash, cash.
It was a fucking mantra Mac couldn’t escape. He’d wanted to be a wise-guy because he thought that was how money was made. That, getting in with a family, and earning his button properly, would keep his family from suffering in poverty.
They were still drowning in poverty at times, just like they always had. When Mac had money, things were good. When he didn’t, his family was barely able to keep their heads above water.
“Yeah,” Mac grunted, pushing off the table. “I’m going to fight.”
“Good.” Cordial held out the mouth guard that Mac brought along for the evening and he shoved it in his mouth, biting down hard on the rubbery piece. Everything had to be checked before it went into the ring. Even something simple, like a mouth guard. “Keep your chin tucked in and your eyes on his right side. He favors harder hits, rather than several smaller ones. Watch for when that hit comes, Macky. He puts a lot of power behind it and he won’t have much left to spare. You’re a good old southpaw, so keep that locked up tight until you get the chance to take the best shot. Make that one count. He’s quick on his feet, so you might wanna get him on the mat. Got it?”
Mac nodded. “Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
Mac ignored the cheers, jeers, and pounding feet as he stepped into the cage. Their faces were nameless and unimportant to him. It wasn’t the excitement of the crowd that got him revving for a fight. It wasn’t the flushed, turned on faces of women or the bloodthirsty men.
Mac didn’t fight for any of that.
Nor for approval, validation, or release.
No, he fought to win.
He fought for money and nothing more.
All those late nights at shoddy gyms when he was a teenager had paid off over the years. Between running on the streets for dealers and delivering messages for his uncle to his father before Marco died, Mac found time to kill, in gyms and a punching bag. He learned a few skills in boxing and Kung Fu, which worked well inside a cage when matched with his quickness and sharp eye.
“Open up,” the girl wearing the smallest bikini ever and a fake smile said.
She was rake-thin, with bleach-blonde hair and not Mac’s type. Unfortunately, the crowd loved a good show when the fighters got into the cage together, so he had a part to play. Making a point to wag his eyebrow and smirk at the girl, he opened his mouth and pushed his mouth guard out with the tip of his tongue. She took her time inspecting his mouth before he felt her hands slide under the boxing shorts he wore.
Mac beat back the cringe threatening to form as the girl’s hand roved over his junk once, twice, and then a third time.
“Searching for something particular?” he asked when she didn’t remove her hand.
“Just checking,” she replied sweetly.
Too sweetly.
“Well, if you’re looking to find something for you, you’re not going to find it in there, babe,” Mac muttered. “Takes a bit more than a touch to get me hard, girl.”
Slipping his mouth guard back in place and taking a step away from the girl, he winked. It forced her hands out of his pants, anyway. And it still gave the crowd some idea that maybe he liked what she had done with her hand down his shorts, if their loud cheers were any indication.
“You’re wearing jewelry,” the girl pointed out. “It’s not allowed.”
His leather wristband with the M embossed in gold had been his grandfather’s. The cross around his neck had been a gift from his grandmother. Both had passed when he was a teen. The two items didn’t come off his person unless someone ripped them off.
And if that happened, the fool better make damn sure they were good and gone before Mac got ahold of them.
Mac cocked a brow. “The leather wristband has been vetted by the organizer and the necklace is a personal choice. They’re not coming off or they already would have, before I stepped into the cage.”
With a scowl, the girl turned on her heel and stalked to the other side of the cage.
Mac bounced on his heels as Junior Ferro stepped into his side of the cage. Neither of the men spent too much time looking one another over, as Ferro was checked in the same fashion Mac had been. Guessing by the leer on Junior’s face, he liked the chick’s hand on his dick a lot more than Mac had.
Sloppy, sweaty palm seconds.
Maybe that was Ferro’s thing.
Mac didn’t give a damn.
“Eleven K,” came a shout from outside Mac’s side of the cage.
He turned to see Cordial mouthing the words again.
“Eleven?” Mac asked, just to be sure.
No way.
That was the highest payout he’d ever seen from the Ferro fights.
Cordial nodded. “Eleven K to the winner of the fight. That’s not including the payouts to everyone else. A record, apparently. Seems someone’s bound and determined for you to lose, Macky. The largest bet came in on Ferro for you to lose against him.”
Shit.
Mac’s gaze swept the crowd quickly, trying to find the stupid fucker in a sea of people that was bound and determined to see him lose. Almost instantly, he found a pair of russet eyes meeting his stare closer to the cage than he was expecting.
Melina.
The gorgeously cold face was still mocking him in the back of his mind.
Her companion looked smug as fuck with an arm around Melina’s waist as the fool nodded in Ferro’s direction.
Shined shoes. Perfectly managed hair. Expensive tux. Silk tie.
Money.
Mac had guessed it about the guy earlier, but his cocky attitude and arrogant posture practically screamed it. Growing up like he had, in the thick of the streets with men who made their living off scheming from fools like Melina’s companion and whoever else they could fuck over, gave Mac the ability to sniff out easy money.
That fool was easy money.
Chances were, that was the idiot who betted against him. Apparently, the guy’s ego was still a little bit hurt after their encounter from earlier.
Mac caught Melina’s gaze again as the cage was cleared. She looked surprised to see him in there. Given that he had been wearing a suit earlier and not the cage look he sported now, it wasn’t such a surprise.
“Middle!” the ref shouted.
Why the Ferros even bothered with having refs in the cage, Mac wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like the idiots did anything except call the winner. On more than one occasion, Mac had witnessed the refs ignore just about every dirty move that could be used, even if it resulted in someone being carried out and shoved in a trunk.
Mac met Junior Ferro in the middle of the cage. Ferro put his taped fists out and Mac met them with a bump of his own.
“Clean fight, boys,” the ref said.
Mac scoffed behind his mouth guard.
Even Junior sneered.
The moment the ref stepped back from the two men, a familiar bell dinged. Junior charged Mac fast and furious, like a goddamn bull in heat. Quickly, Mac stepped to the right just before Junior reached him and with a fast step on his heel, Mac swung to the side with all his body weight, lifted his left foot from the floor and let his heel connect with the middle of Jun
ior’s chest.
Easy hit.
Junior stumbled forward like he’d been surprised at the move, sucking in a hard breath of air. Yeah, a kick to the chest hurt. Placed right, it could break a rib and take a man’s breath away. Mac wasn’t looking to do serious damage to Junior. There was no reason to embarrass the guy any more than he already would once he won the match.
Why hadn’t Cordial told Mac that Junior liked to charge a guy in the cage?
This fight could have been over instantly.
Turning fast to regain his balance from the kick, Mac met the rapid-fire fists of Junior, one after the other. Using his taped hands and arms as a shield, Mac blocked the light punches easily.
He favors the harder hits, rather than several smaller ones.
Well, Cordial fucked that one up big time.
Seemed like Junior had either taken up a different style or he was trying to trip Mac up. Just as Junior dropped back like he wanted more room for a swing, Mac prepped to block a hit and toss out one of his own.
Instead, his back met the fucking mat hard.
It took him an entire second to realize he was on the floor and Ferro was on top of him, raining quick, unrelenting punches over his head and chest.
Goddamn.
Mac needed to get out of this, and fast.
Ferro sneered behind his mouth guard, making damn sure Mac saw it. It was the opening Mac needed—just that one second of distraction. Mac’s elbow flew up and cracked Ferro hard under his jaw, sending the man’s head flying backwards. Blood dripped from a slice in the fool’s bottom lip.
With one swift kick, Ferro was tossed off Mac.
Being upright had never felt so good to Mac.
Bouncing on his heels again, Mac ignored the screaming roar of the crowd and the volcanic noise around him. If he focused in on that shit, that’s all he would hear.
Those people weren’t important.
Winning was.
Ferro stood, pissed and ready to charge again.
Mac let him.
Unlike the first time, when Mac moved out of the way, he didn’t move this time. Ferro pulled back for the swing Cordial had warned him about, Mac ducked the hit, and the southpaw came out to connect with Ferro, right under the right rib with enough force to crack the bone.
Instantly, Ferro shouted from the shock of the hit, crumpling in on himself. Mac tossed out two more hits, each landing to the half-assed protected face of his opponent.
The second Ferro lifted his head, Mac let his body move with a familiar roundhouse.
It connected to the side of Ferro’s head with a solid thud.
Junior hit the mat, out cold.
Mac didn’t wait for the ref to step in and call it. He knew what it was. A win by knockout. Stepping back, Mac finally let the overwhelming noise of the crowd seep into his focused senses. A cage door was opened to let him out.
Cordial was there to meet Mac with an icepack and a stick of super glue.
“Shit, lemme see that cut, boy,” Cordial demanded.
Mac blinked, unsure of what Cordial meant. Then, he felt the drip of something warm and sticky slide down his cheek. Touching his eyebrow with his taped fist, Mac winced. Pain ricocheted over his forehead.
“Ouch,” Cordial muttered.
“Just get it closed,” Mac mumbled behind his mouth guard.
Cordial tipped Mac’s head back, wiped the cut with a wet cloth, and then applied the glue. After ten seconds of holding the cut closed, Cordial let it go.
“Blink for me.”
Mac did as he was told.
“Looks good,” Cordial added.
Mac spat his mouth guard into the plastic tub Cordial offered.
“He’s out, yeah?” Mac asked, not wanting to turn around and look back inside the cage.
“Out cold,” Cordial confirmed. “They’re waking him up now. You’ve got a minute or two before you need to go back in and let the people fawn over you.”
Great.
Mac sucked in a breath, letting the lingering adrenaline from the fight fade away. His gaze caught a pair of brown eyes off to the side, watching him with interest.
Unable to stop himself, Mac offered Melina a grin.
Her companion didn’t miss it.
“Is that what you call a fucking match?” the guy shouted. “Fancy feet and quick fists don’t make a good fighter!”
Mac laughed as the guy’s face turned red. “How much money did you lose betting against me? You didn’t have to shell out more cash for the night than you already have, man.”
Embarrassment was a horrible thing to feel, especially when cash was involved.
Melina’s gaze caught Mac’s again as he was shoved backwards into the cage for the winner to be declared. Earlier in the night, her interest in the fights and people had seemed nonexistent. Now, there was a flush to her caramel skin and her cold stare held a familiar heat as she looked him over.
Sex and sin.
He bet a night with her would be worth all the trouble she caused.
Smirking, Mac mouthed, “I’ll see you again, doll.”
Men. It didn’t matter what they looked like or who they were. At the end of the day, they all shared one basic characteristic—the desire to prove themselves as an alpha male to a woman. Case in point, the two men last night who’d acted as if Melina were some female they were rutting over: Garrett and Mac.
Different men, at opposite ends of the male spectrum.
One with an arrogance brought on by wealth.
The other with an arrogance brought on by an unassuming confidence in himself.
And for some odd reason Melina was strangely attracted to one of those men.
Though she’d been annoyed from the moment she’d laid eyes on Garrett Jameson, the hazel-eyed Mac was a different story altogether. Built with the body of a Greek god and tough enough to take a man down before he knew what was happening to him, Melina couldn’t deny that there was something about Mac that interested her.
Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her. As if he could see through the tough exterior that had become a constant part of her life.
But then again, maybe it was the total disregard he’d shown for her date. Where there were sure to be men who would’ve allowed the privileged Jameson to emerge as the alpha male, Mac had risen to the challenge of showing which man really was the leader of the pack.
Doll.
One word. She couldn’t get it out of her mind and she didn’t like it one bit.
Feminine endearments had always bothered her for some reason. Perhaps it went back to her catching her first “boyfriend,” whispering those endearments on the phone … to another girl. Yep. That was probably it. She was no one’s “sweetheart”, “honey”, or whatever other stupid pet name men liked to use. Her name was Melina and Melina only. Mac calling her a “doll” had only reminded her of something she’d rather forget. No doubt, he thought he was being cute. In reality, “doll” was a throwback slang word used to describe a pretty but unintelligent or expressionless woman. Melina was none of the latter.
But she’d spent enough time thinking about the fighter. He was just a man, a rather attractive man, but still a man like all the rest of them.
Parking her black Nissan Altima in front of a nondescript, gray brick building, Melina killed the ignition and exited, locking the car behind her. Walking unhurriedly, she opened the door in front of her and entered. The front foyer of the building was empty, but that didn’t matter. She knew better than to be deceived by appearances. Melina found the wooden stairs that lead upstairs and took them two at a time. When she reached the last stair, the strains of jazz filled the air.
Pushing open the red painted door in front of her, Melina came face to face with a red-haired woman wearing a silk dressing gown.
“Melina, dear, I thought I heard someone come in.”
“Expecting someone else?”
Dulcea rolled her green eyes. “You remember the first cardinal rule, neve
r kiss and tell.”
“Well, since your lipstick is still intact, I’ll assume you haven’t kissed anyone yet, so, it wouldn’t technically be considered kissing and telling.”
“One of these days, somebody is going to come along and tame that tongue of yours.”
“You mean when Jesus returns? I assure you, he’s the only man capable of that feat.”
Dulcea gazed at her with shrewd eyes. “We’ll see. Do you have something for me?”
“As always.” Melina opened her purse and pulled out two folded checks, handing them to Dulcea.
The redhead unfolded the checks and looked at Melina, her eyes stretched wide.
“Damn girl. What did you do?”
“Not what you’re thinking.”
“Come on, now. This old girl has been around the block a time or two. No judgment here if you did.”
Crossing her arms, Melina stared at her boss. “You know I have no problems with owning up to my shit, but Garrett Jameson was in no way appealing to me. I hate men who think their shit doesn’t stink because they have money.”
“And yet, you entertain these men and are quite good at it. What a conundrum you are.”
Dulcea turned and walked back into the room, beckoning for Melina to follow her.
“The moment you figure a person out, the mystique is gone. You taught me that, remember?”
“Indeed, I did.”
Laughing, Dulcea turned the dial to open the large wall safe. Placing the checks inside, she pulled out two stacks of wrapped bills and handed them to Melina.
“Wow, this looks like more than the usual take.”
Dulcea shut the safe and faced Melina. “Of course it is. You brought in an extra thirty grand, in addition to the fee I’ve already collected from your gentleman. Just make sure you don’t spend it all in one place.”
Placing the stacks of money in her purse, Melina gave Dulcea a terse smile. “When have you ever known me to be a frivolous girl?”
“Never, but it is all right for you to live a little. You’re a young, beautiful woman. The world is whatever you want it to be.”
