Gun Moll

by Bethany-Kris

  Mac winced, taking in the orders and what all of them meant. “I was heading down to the Trifecta tonight, actually. The rackets are good. They pay. Carlos has them on a schedule.”

  “Fuck his schedule. You pick up the checks when I want you to, not him.”

  Forcing back his irritation, Mac said, “Yeah, on it.”

  “And the trucks.”

  “And the trucks, Skip.”

  Even if that meant he wouldn’t sleep for the next eighteen hours.

  “Call me in the morning and I’ll let you know if you’re needed for something else,” Guido said.

  “Will do.”

  “Ciao, Mac. Don’t fuck this up.”

  The phone call hung up before Mac could say goodbye. This was how most of his conversations went with his Capo. Frankly, Mac was lucky that he had gained enough attention and respect from the Vasari Capo that he was on the man’s phone contacts. Most soldiers simply answered to someone else who answered to Guido.

  But it still pissed Mac off like nothing else.

  He worked his ass off for Guido, who took all the credit when it came to the family boss for the schemes and work Mac did, and was given very little for thanks.

  Except a phone call with more demands.

  Mac was getting tired of it.

  “Mac?” his sister asked.

  Turning on his heel, Mac shoved his phone in his pocket. “Sorry, sorella, but I need to cut this short. Work and all.”

  Victoria frowned, but didn’t argue. “Okay.”

  “Apologize to Ma for me, too.”

  “Why?”

  “I won’t make it to church, after all.”

  All of it was gone now, except for a few precious things. Melina could hardly believe that one small box was all that remained to remember her father by. Blowing out a breath, she raked a hand through her hair. It had been an emotional week for her. She’d kept putting it off and making excuses, but she’d finally forced herself to clean up the three-bedroom apartment she’d shared with her father. Without him, the place no longer felt like home. It was just a set of rooms that were haunted by the ghost of a man too good for this world. Melina wiped away a bitter tear.

  With every box she’d packed, the sorrow in her heart had grown just a little bit heavier. Clothes. Shoes. The hats her dad had been so fond of wearing. It hurt to hold onto them. It was better to give them to someone in need. There was one special piece of clothing she’d kept, but even that had been a long debate within herself.

  The uniform.

  A mark of Daniel Morgan’s rank and selfless service.

  A reminder of the country that had spit on his service and let him down in the end.

  Part of her wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn to nothing; but regardless of how badly she hurt, Melina knew her father wouldn’t have wanted that.

  No. He would’ve wanted her to honor his commitment to his country. It didn’t matter that he’d lost everything. It didn’t matter that he’d been scarred for life after the horrors he’d seen, because regardless of everything, he’d been proud to serve his country. And it was because of that selfless love that Melina had his uniform and all the insignias of his rank framed in a large memory box. Each day that she looked at it would be a subtle reminder that no one could be trusted, least of all the US government.

  Trust no one and they’ll never have the chance to disappoint you. It was the creed she’d adopted long ago. Melina would live by it until she took her last breath. Taking one last look around the empty apartment, she nodded. The place was spotless and the apartment manager would have no choice but to give her back her full deposit.

  The men from the Salvation Army had been more than happy to pick up all the items she’d donated. Furniture, clothes, and a few knickknacks here and there. Yes, everything had gone except for her clothes and a box of her father’s keepsakes. There were so many photographs. Melina hadn’t realized that there were so many pictures of them. Hell, she didn’t even know that so many photos of her mother remained, either.

  Sarita Ann Morgan. Kindergarten teacher. Loving mother. Amazing baker.

  Dead at twenty-seven from ovarian cancer.

  Life was a bitch that kept fucking you over.

  Melina had been eight when her mother passed. Old enough to remember the way her mother had always smelled like vanilla. The way she’d always had a smile on her face for anyone that came in her path.

  “Look at you. You’re growing into such a beautiful young lady.”

  “Just like you, Mommy?”

  Melina stood beside her mother. The two of them stared into the mirror, looking at their reflections.

  “No. You’re going to be even more beautiful than I am. Don’t forget you’ve got your Daddy’s looks, too, and we both know he’s no slouch in that department.”

  “No, he isn’t.”

  They both burst into laughter and Melina turned, hugging her mother’s waist. Sarita ran her fingers through her daughter’s long, black hair.

  “What are you two in here, giggling about?”

  Melina’s eyes followed the voice and she let go of her mother.

  “Daddy!”

  Going down on one knee, he opened his arms and enveloped her in a warm hug. “How’s my princess today?”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Wonderful, huh? That’s good to hear. And how about my queen?”

  Daniel rose, holding Melina, and stepped towards his wife. He kissed her on the lips and Melina made noises in the back of her throat.

  “Better, now that you’re here,” Sarita said.

  “You two are so lovey dovey.”

  Daniel tickled his daughter. “Well, why shouldn’t we be? We love each other and we love you, the most adorable little girl in the world.”

  Melina laughed and squirmed until her father put her down. Then she took her place standing between her mother and father. One big happy family.

  If only she hadn’t been fool enough to believe that was the way things would always be. At twenty-five, she was alone in the world. Her mother’s parents had stopped bothering to even keep in contact after Sarita had died. Daniel’s parents were long gone, and with no aunts and uncles from either side, Melina was truly alone. Some moments it hurt, but other times she didn’t care. Either way, she would be okay. If Eve could survive getting kicked out of the Garden of Eden and incurring God’s wrath, then there was no doubt Melina could. Besides, Melina had one thing Eve didn’t … street smarts.

  Laughing, Melina walked to the front door and opened it. Stepping halfway out, she gave the apartment one last glance and shut the door behind her. All she had to do now was return the keys and this would be another piece of her past she could put to rest … forever. Sometimes a body wasn’t the only thing that needed burying.

  This is a bad idea and you know it.

  Melina parked her car and silently swatted away her pesky inner voice. This might be a bad idea but right now, she just didn’t give a damn. After squaring away things at her old apartment, Melina had spent the rest of the day waiting around for the movers to deliver the new items she’d purchased for her two-bedroom apartment. She had a lot of work ahead of her, with decorating her new place and unpacking the mountains of clothes she had, but she’d get to that all in good time. Tonight, she was taking Dulcea’s advice and throwing her cares to the wind. She was young, beautiful and single. Why not live a little? Especially when you never knew when the opportunity would be taken away from you.

  Checking out her reflection in the rearview mirror, she wiped away a stray smudge of copper-colored lipstick. Her hair hung in loose curls down to her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed with dark kohl and her lashes fanned out. The soft, black leather dress clung to her curves like a second skin. The dress was strapless and studded with gold beading around the bodice and ended at mid-thigh. Paired with ankle high black boots, her ensemble was the perfect mix of bad girl sass. Melina had no doubt that tonight she would have her hands full keepin
g the men at bay. But it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle.

  Stepping out of her car, she locked it and quickly walked towards the packed club. It was a good thing she’d learned how to walk in heels a long time ago. The club was a block away and with the line of people that she was sure would be waiting outside, there was no doubt she’d be on her feet for a while. She held her clutch and enjoyed the bite of the wind across her back, and in a few minutes, the club was in her view and the line was already crazy long.

  Taking her place at the end of the line, Melina watched the people around her. Throb was supposed to be one of the hottest new clubs in the area. Local gossip also claimed the place was backed by mob money, but Melina didn’t buy it. The mob was dead, as far as she knew, and if it wasn’t, she didn’t care. Tonight was about her and she didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything else.

  Ahead of her, a group of teenage girls screamed and flashed their breasts, begging for attention. Pathetic.

  There was nothing wrong with being sexy. Melina thrived on the power she had as a woman, but she also knew when to draw the line. Mystique was everything. Today’s females needed to learn that if they shared everything, they’d have nothing left for themselves, including respect.

  The line inched ahead and Melina went with it. Suddenly, broad shoulders were pushing into her, making her lose her balance.

  “What the fuck?” she asked.

  A pair of hands gripped her shoulders and Melina looked up. A tall, dark-haired man with olive skin and chocolate brown eyes smiled at her.

  “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

  Melina nodded and took a step back. The man released her.

  “Let me make it up to you,” the man said.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Please? A gentlemen does right by a lady, when he can.”

  Melina laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, I happen to be close associates with one of the owners of this place. I can get us in past the line and into the VIP area, all free of charge.”

  Melina raised a brow. “Really? I’d like to see that.”

  “Your wish is my command, lady.”

  He held out his arm and against her better judgment, she took it. With a smooth pace, the man eased them to the front of the line. The bouncers took one look at him and opened the doors, letting them inside. She smiled.

  “Okay, I’m impressed. Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

  “Just you wait and see.”

  As they entered through the entrance leading to the main floor, music filled the air. The dance floor was a connecting sequence of clear squares. Each square was illuminated by colored lights. Overhead strobe lights spun all around. It was pretty impressive, but what really drew Melina’s attention were the two silver-barred cages elevated from the dance floor. Inside danced two women. Their movements were fast and frenzied as they moved to the beat of the music.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “No matter where you go, there are half-naked women,” Melina said.

  Her companion laughed, his eyes settling on her.

  “Trust me, with a real woman like you here tonight, nobody’s paying them the least bit of attention. Let’s get a drink.”

  Melina allowed him to lead her towards the large bar, located at the back of the club. There were wall-to-wall bottles of liquor. Taking the empty seat in front of her, Melina waited to see what her handsome benefactor would do next.

  “Hey.” He snapped his fingers at one of the bartenders. “Whatever this lady wants, she gets. It’s on the house.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The bald, muscled bartender turned his attention to Melina. “What can I get you?”

  “Long Island Ice Tea.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As the man turned away to prepare her drink, Melina felt a hand on her shoulder. Lips brushed her ear.

  “I hate to rush off, but I need to speak with one of the guys who run the place. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure are.”

  The man winked at her and then he disappeared through the crowd.

  Not a minute later, the bartender was back. “Your drink, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.”

  Melina picked up the glass and took a long drink. The liquor hit the back of her throat. Cold and refreshing with tones of lemon, this was exactly what she needed. Three more swallows and the drink was gone. Moving from her seat, Melina disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor. The sounds of Jazmine Sullivan’s Let It Burn filled the air. She loved the soulful melody and the old-school music it was based on.

  Moving her body to the music, Melina danced to the song while silently mouthing the words. She wondered if she would ever find someone who made her fire burn like an inferno that would never go out.

  Mac.

  Mac.

  The voice inside her head whispered the name. No. He was arrogant and too cocksure.

  He had a smart mouth.

  But he was also sexy as hell.

  Hazel eyes and a brooding face.

  She liked the look of him and part of her couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to him than smooth words and a handsome smile. From the way he moved in the ring, she surely hoped he had that same finesse in the bedroom. Arms slid around her waist, pulling her against a warm male body.

  “I’m back. Let’s party.”

  “Let’s see if you can.”

  A hit of liquor in her system and a handsome man on the dance floor with her. Maybe Dulcea had the right idea, for once.

  “Could you get those girls any more naked than they already are?” Mac asked, watching two women dance above his head in cages.

  Guido chuckled. “Skin is in, as the saying goes.”

  Mac beat back his scowl. Guido was a good thirty years older than the women he was leering at, not that his age made a difference to the guy. The Capo still worked with the kind of mentality that came with every old-school wise-guy Mac had ever come across. Females were toys to be used well, used hard, and thrown away when the men finished with them. Move on to the next before the last turned clingy.

  Guido was also married—happily, or so he claimed to Mac—to a good, old Italian woman who knew her place and turned her cheek.

  Yeah, a wise-guy.

  Mac was no saint. He liked women and he had more than a few over the years, but he never liked to fuck with a woman’s head like some of the mob guys did. He knew men who had upwards of five or six different women they were running alongside the wife and kids they kept at home to keep face. Others had entirely separate homes from the one the world got to see, including goomahs, illegitimate children, and all that shady business.

  Mac just couldn’t do it.

  He thought of his mother and her struggle to manage her house while her husband ran around with any woman who would take him. He considered his father, and how the man only ever stumbled home when he needed to save face for the mob. To show he was keeping up the family side of things.

  That was not the life Mac wanted to live.

  “Come,” Guido demanded.

  Mac followed his Capo through the throng of moving, sweaty bodies on the dance floor. With the bass of the music pumping through the space and the lights overhead flickering fast enough to make a person dizzy, it was a lot to take in. Mac enjoyed a club every once in a while. It was a good way to meet someone who was looking for the same kind of thing he was that night and to blow off some quick steam.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t why he’d come to Throb tonight. Mac hadn’t actually been inside the place since Guido opened the doors to the club a month ago, but he’d heard enough to know it was a hotspot and making more money than a lot of people knew. It wasn’t just the liquor and door fees making the cash, either.

  Guido had hands on the floor selling anything and everything from acid to ecstasy. He also had girls
who didn’t look like hookers but worked the backrooms like they were.

  Or so Mac heard.

  Sometimes, with Guido Vasari, it was better not to ask.

  Chances were, the rumors were true. Guido was the sole owner of Throb, as well as five other hotspots in the city. The Capo’s other clubs were full of mob money and mafia business. Modern mafioso had to be a little more careful about how and with whom they did dealings, after all. With changes in the world, came changes in the mob.

  Men like Guido had to step their games up.

  Mac might have had a hand or two in that, but his Capo never cared to give him the credit for it.

  “Ah, here we go,” Guido said, pulling out a key.

  Mac turned to glance over the crowd one last time as Guido unlocked a door to expose a staircase leading up to a dark hallway. As his Capo stepped inside and called his name, ordering him to follow, Mac swore he saw someone he recognized.

  Chocolate eyes.

  Dark hair.

  Caramel skin.

  Mac froze, his gaze zoning in on the crowd again.

  Could it …?

  “Mac,” Guido barked.

  Mac shook the odd feeling off.

  The Capo glowered at him. “We have shit to discuss. Get out of your head, capisce?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Good. I’d hate to smack you out of it.”

  Mac held back his scoff and that was only for the sake of respect.

  Respect.

  That’s what the mafia was all about.

  Mac gave Guido what the man wanted—again. “Let’s talk about the issue we’re having with the Corelli crew and how to get it settled, Skip.”

  Guido smiled. “Grazie. Good to know my best soldato has his head on straight tonight.”

  Solider.

  Because that’s all Mac was to Guido.

  “Are you ever going to get me the button?” Mac asked.

  Mac wanted into la famiglia. For now, Guido was Mac’s only way to the Pivetti Cosa Nostra and the button.