by Bethany-Kris
Guido laughed. “Not if you keep asking questions like that, Mac.”
With a wave, Guido directed Mac up the enclosed staircase. The passage was so small, it felt like the walls were closing in. At the top, Guido flipped the keys in his hand until he found the one he wanted and unlocked the second door. Guido knocked once before he pushed the door open.
Mac tried not to act surprised at the sight of a bleached-blonde hanging off the arm of Guido’s enforcer, Tip. Well, everybody called the guy Tip, but his real name was Sammy. Mac still hadn’t figured out how Tip got his nickname and chances were, he didn’t want to.
Tip held the female’s hair back as she bent over on his lap with a rolled up bill in her hand, stuck up one nostril. The distinct sound of snorting followed and white lines of powder disappeared off the glass coffee table.
“What’d I fucking tell you, huh?” Guido asked as Mac closed the door.
Tip shrugged as he yanked the girl by her hair and pulled her into a straight position again. She was blitzed out of it, if her pupils were any indication. Tip looked to be in the same shape, if not worse.
This was the kind of enforcer Guido had watching this joint when business was going down?
Fucking useless.
“Having fun, Boss,” Tip said, a slow smile curving his lips.
God, the man was stoned out of his mind.
Mac took note of Guido’s frown, but the Capo just seemed defeated at the scene. What in the hell was going on, anyway? Any other Capo would have kicked the enforcer in the teeth and gotten him the hell out of the joint to save some face. Maybe even got the guy whacked, to end the nonsense altogether.
Hard drug use had never been acceptable in Cosa Nostra, as far as Mac knew. People turned their cheeks to a little bit of substance use here and there, but full-on addicts were something entirely different. It just wasn’t allowed.
“Get her out of here,” Guido growled.
Tip laughed. “Yeah, all right.”
“And clean yourself up before you come back,” the Capo added.
“Sure, sure.”
Mac waited while the giggling blonde and the enforcer made their way out of the large office. Guido said nothing as he hit a few switches on the wall panel and lit up the room with more lights. Hardwood floors, buffed and polished, gleamed. High ceilings with bronze fixtures rested above their heads. Guido’s large, cherry-oak desk rested in the middle of the room, commanding attention.
The Capo took the leather seat behind the desk, pushing the papers on the top out of the way. “Goddamn.”
Mac figured it’d be rude not to ask about Guido’s troubles, even if he was annoyed with the Capo for overlooking him constantly. “Something wrong, Skip?”
Guido glanced up, his dark eyes flashing with tiredness. “I’m getting too old for this game, Mac.”
“I don’t know, you do all right.”
He was still one of the highest earning Capos in the Pivetti family, after all. That was something to take note of. Even if all of Guido’s earnings were made by his crew and their hard work, who really cared?
Apparently, no one.
“I didn’t know you were having issues with Tip,” Mac said.
Guido waved the statement off. “I’m not. He’s just going through some shit, that’s all. His wife is due to have their kid right off soon and Tip’s just doing what he does to manage the stress.”
Wait, what? The guy had a wife and a baby on the way, but he was spending his nights in a club getting high with whatever female was handy? And Guido was turning cheek to that kind of behavior?
Mac did a double take of his Capo. “Skip—”
“I’m not in the mood to discuss my enforcer’s business, Mac. We have other things to handle tonight.”
Mac nodded. “Fine.”
“Your boys fucked up.”
“No, your boys did,” Mac corrected. “I was there and told them to wait, Skip. I said the truck wouldn’t be beyond the Corelli lines. They were cocksure and went in without my approval. By the time I got in on them, they had already picked the truck clean and clipped the driver.”
Guido scowled. “The driver was supposed to be paid off, not killed.”
“Like I said, they went in cocksure and stupid. That’s what arrogance does.”
“The fact remains,” Guido barked, “you have a problem.”
No, Guido had a problem.
Mac chose not to correct the man on his mistake again.
“The job was a screw-up,” Guido said, sighing harshly. “A major one, Mac. Now, I’ve got Anthony Corelli and his crew sharing words and fists with any Vasari crew they can find. It’s bad enough that it has made its way to the boss. And now I’ve got the threat of Luca settling the feud, if Anthony and I can’t get it corrected ourselves.”
“So give Anthony his share of the truck,” Mac said.
Simple fix right there.
Anthony Corelli was a Capo of another Pivetti crew. His territory lines hugged Guido’s in the Kitchen in several different spots. Parts of Little Italy were still considered no-man’s zone because no one really knew who the fuck it belonged to.
Nonetheless, Anthony was due his take on the truck. The men Guido had sent to Mac for the truck job had been useless, ignorant idiots. A bunch of street thugs in need of a good ass kicking. Usually, Mac got a few good guys mixed in with the bad—guys who would keep an eye out for the fuck-ups and keep them in line.
This time, he got nothing.
Nada.
A mess, that’s what.
And Guido wanted him to take the blame for it.
“Give Anthony his take,” Mac repeated. “He’s owed it, Guido. They skipped onto the truck in his territory, there’s no questioning that.”
“Still my crew,” Guido said, unfazed. “And that cafone just likes to cause me trouble.”
Mac had to wonder about that, considering the stance Guido was taking now. The rules about territory and cash were clear. If it was someone else’s streets, you paid them their dues. Guido knew this even better than Mac did.
“If Pivetti steps in …” Guido trailed off, scowling again.
Luca Pivetti was almost like a damned myth to Mac. He’d heard the man’s name whispered and seen the guy’s picture splashed across news broadcasts, but that was about it. Luca was the face of the Pivetti crime family—he ran the organization and he ran it hard, fast, and cruel. Mac, being as small of a fish as he was, had yet to have the pleasure of actually meeting the Cosa Nostra Don.
But he sure as hell wanted to.
Luca had three daughters and an illegitimate son, with the oldest being the boy who was thoroughly mixed up in Cosa Nostra. The daughters were held in esteem to the family, the perfect principessas in waiting. What they were waiting for was a mystery to outsiders, but to anyone inside the organization, they knew the truth. Marriages. Arranged ones.
“What do you want me to do, huh?” Mac asked. “They didn’t follow my directions.”
“And in turn,” Guido said, pointing a finger at Mac, “you didn’t follow mine, soldato.”
“Sì,” Mac admitted, though it nearly killed him to do it. “I’ll figure out a way to fix it—maybe kill the problem by paying Anthony out with my money.”
What little he had left, that was. After the bills for his mother’s home and the bit of savings he’d given to his sister—not to mention his own—Mac’s money well was running dry again. Another fight was an option, but that was like playing with fire when another family’s organization was involved. Too much integration with another family and Mac would find himself in a makeshift grave before he even knew what happened.
Then again, Mac didn’t even know if he could make up that kind of money in a quick time frame. It would probably top twenty grand or more, knowing the kind of electronics that had been inside the truck. A loan shark was an option, but the interests were a killer. Literally.
“I’ll figure something out,” Mac repeated.
&nb
sp; “Do that, or we’ll end up having to take out a rival.”
“What can I get you?” the tattooed bartender asked.
“A beer,” Mac replied.
Something he could chug fast and get a hit from. Nothing too strong, just something good enough to take the edge off. After his discussion with Guido, he’d earned the drink.
The cell phone in his pocket buzzed with a call, but Mac ignored it. The electric feel of the music and the cold beer the bartender passed him was enough to lull him into a calmer state. He wasn’t about to ruin that with nonsense like a phone call.
Besides, it was probably his mother wanting him to show at church in the morning.
Mac was in no mood to travel all the way to Amityville for Mass.
Tipping the bottle up to his lips, Mac chugged half the beer in a single go. As he brought the bottle down, a flash of russet eyes and caramel skin caught his eye. Just like earlier, he took notice. He knew that face and that feisty smile.
Shit.
Melina.
Bad timing, Mac thought as he glanced around the club. It wasn’t a good place to be getting mixed up with a woman, not with it being mob-owned. But what were the odds, he wondered. It seemed like the more he turned around, the more he kept running into the dark-skinned, sexy-as-fuck woman. Her sharp tongue and sassy demeanor never failed to surprise him, either.
Mac had a lot going on.
Too much to be messing with a woman who clearly had some kind of attitude problem.
He wished he would have listened to his inner voice, but when he noticed one of Guido’s guys—a made man who made his money by crossing off names when asked—dancing with Melina like he wanted to take a bite out of her, Mac was already pushing off the bar. A hot ball twisted in his gut, sending him across the club’s floor quicker than he thought was possible. Not a single person got in his way, but that might have been because they noticed the pissed off look he wore.
No claim.
Mac had no claim on Melina, but he didn’t like the sight of a man touching her. Certainly not a man like Vincent Carracci.
Jealousy was a goddamn monster.
Mac wore that monster well.
Melina swayed to the beat of the music. The drink she’d had was giving her a slow buzz and the pair of strong arms around her weren’t too bad, either.
“You’re so damned beautiful. You know that,” her mysterious dance partner said.
She smiled. “I’ve been told that a time or two.”
“Good. Nice to know there are still some honest people left in the world.”
“And would you be one of them?”
“Hardly.”
That voice.
Melina’s eyes narrowed as she calmly took a step away from her companion.
“You know, I think this might qualify as stalking,” Melina said.
She stared into a pair of mocking hazel eyes. Arms folded across his chest, head tilted to the side with a small smirk, Mac Maccari was a sight for sore eyes.
“Mac, what are you doing here?”
“You know, Vin, the usual. Business.”
Melina stared between the two men on either side of her. The air was suddenly thick around her.
“You two know each other,” she surmised.
“Yeah, we do, doll.”
Melina momentarily gritted her teeth. “I thought we’d established that I don’t like that word.”
“And I thought you understood what I meant by that, Melina.”
His gaze bored into hers with the intensity of a thousand suns. She swallowed hard and was forced to look away.
“Look, Mac, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing but this lovely lady and I were enjoying ourselves before you so rudely interrupted, so beat it and spare yourself some embarrassment.”
Vin’s hand slid around Melina’s waist and she took notice of him. His eyes were hard and a muscle worked in his jaw. Clearly, whatever relationship Vin and Mac had, was not an amicable one to say the least.
“Vinny, I think you’d do good to remove your hand, before you lose it.”
Melina put a hand to her waist. “Mac.”
Mac’s eyes flicked to her briefly, before they turned back to the man with his hand still resting on her waist.
“Who the hell do you think you are? I eat guys like you for breakfast. No one’s buying the tough guy act you’re putting on,” Vin said.
“That’s too bad. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Before Melina could blink, she was spinning away from Vin and he was hitting the floor. Mac stood with the heel of his shoe pressed against the man’s throat. The smirk never left his face.
“The next time I ask nicely, you’d do well to listen.”
People were starting to pay attention to them now. Melina’s eyes were open for security to show up at any minute.
“You can stop worrying so much, doll. Nobody’s coming to kick us out,” Mac said.
“You’re a piece of shit, Mac,” Vin said in a choked growl on the floor, “just like your old man.”
For the first time, Mac’s smirk slipped. Veins started to bulge in his neck and his hands formed tight fists. The heel of his shoe pressed down harder into Vin’s windpipe. The man’s face turned red and his hands grabbed at Mac’s ankle.
“Don’t you ever compare me to him. You’re lucky I don’t crush your fucking throat.”
Melina’s heart felt as if it were on a rollercoaster, rising high up in her throat and then plunging back down to her gut. Even more strangely, she didn’t know whether she should be scared or turned on. She gasped as Mac’s fingers circled her wrist and pulled her towards him.
“Melina and I will be leaving now.”
Without a backwards glance at the man he’d just sent sprawling to the floor, Mac started walking, dragging Melina with him.
“Let me go. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Mac ignored her and continued moving her towards the outskirts of the dance floor. His grip was firm and strong. The club goers around them had already lost interest. Melina would get no help from them. It was up to her, like always. Digging in her heels, Melina stopped walking and jerked away from Mac with all her strength. He stopped walking briefly, glared at her, and then picked her up and put her across his shoulder.
Melina slapped Mac in the back. “I swear to God if you don’t put me down, you are going to regret it.”
“I’d love to see what kind of regret you have in mind, doll.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Melina tried to squirm from her position, but Mac wasn’t budging. He continued walking, until he led her into what looked to be a small storage room and kicked the door shut behind them. He eased her down so that she was sitting on the side of a small black and gold table. The second she was free, Melina swung at Mac but he easily dodged her fists. Grabbing her wrists, he easily bent them down to the table. At the same time, he maneuvered himself to step between her legs.
“Now, that’s better,” Mac said.
She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing into the junction between her thighs. Melina wanted to ignore it, but she couldn’t.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”
Mac shrugged. “I’ve been called worse, but considering I just saved you from making a colossal mistake, I think you could call me something other than an asshole.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I was just dancing.”
“Yeah, with a known enforcer. Vincent Carracci is not a guy you want to mess with.”
Melina rolled her eyes. “Please spare me. He was the first decent-acting guy I’ve come across in ages.”
“Then you need to get out more, doll, but not to a place like this. You’re just asking for trouble coming here.”
Melina shifted on the table, but Mac didn’t let go of her wrists. The fool had the nerve to smirk as her moving brought them into even closer proximity with each other. His gaze dipped down lower
to her breasts and consciously, Melina tried to address the rising and falling of her chest. What was it about this guy that left her tied up in knots? One minute she wanted to knock the smirk off his face. The next she wanted to fuck his … no, she wouldn’t go there.
“Throb is the latest hot spot. I’m just here for an enjoyable evening. What could possibly be so bad about me being here?”
Mac leaned closer to her, until their lips were only a breadth apart.
“Because this place is mob-owned, sweetheart. They chew up and spit out beautiful women like you. They hook a girl on decent drinks and good-looking men, slip them whatever will make them fly, and then keep reeling them in until they’ve got no choice but to come back for what they need, what they’re provided with here. You have no idea how men like Vincent work or what they do for this club.”
Melina cocked a brow. “Come on. Everyone knows the mob is dead. You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but not in this case. Why do you think I was acting like that?”
Melina shrugged. “I thought you were just being your usual arrogant self.”
Mac laughed. “Cute, but no. I wanted Vincent to think you were my girl so he’d back the hell off. There are rules in the world of mafioso and messing with a man’s woman is a big one to break. You don’t need to be mixed up with a guy like him.”
“So I should be with a guy like you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not, but whatever you do, please don’t come back here, Melina. I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you.”
She licked her lips. “And why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to be held responsible for killing the next man dumb enough to put his hands on you.”
Melina swallowed hard. “Kill?”
Mac rubbed his nose against hers. “Mmhmm.”
She knew she was poking a bear. Melina could feel the change in the atmosphere. Suddenly, she felt achy and hungry at the same time.
The moment his mouth descended on hers, Melina knew fire. Mac’s kiss burned a path from her breasts to her sex. Her pelvis tilted towards his. She couldn’t help herself as her mouth opened to him. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, exploring and teasing her own. He tasted of beer and mint. Bitter and sweet, all at the same time. Mac moaned against her mouth and she could feel the vibration all the way down to her pussy.
