by Bethany-Kris
Melina didn’t fight it when he released her wrists and slid his hands around her waist. One of her legs curved around him, holding him to her aching core. Her breasts tingled, begging to be touched. As if sensing her unspoken desire, one of Mac’s hands ghosted up to fondle her. His hand rubbed her nipple through the material of her dress slowly between his thumb and forefinger. Melina whimpered and he squeezed tight, causing her nipple to turn into a sharp, hard point as a bite of pain chased close behind the bliss racing through her blood. She was wet for this man. She wanted him to fuck her right there on that table.
Things had gone far enough.
Gathering her wits, Melina pushed Mac away, breaking the kiss. His breathing was ragged as he stared at her with his jaw tight and lust burning brightly in his hazel eyes. Melina wouldn’t be the least surprised if her own face was flushed. There was something between her and Mac and it was dangerous. She didn’t let men have control over her. She wouldn’t start breaking that by giving her control over to this man.
Mac’s tongue peeked out to sweep his bottom lip. “I knew a mouth that inviting had to be sweet.”
“That has to be the lamest line I’ve ever heard.”
“There’s no need to go for a line when telling the truth is so much easier.”
Melina eased off the table. “The truth is, that you saw me with another man and got jealous, so you made up this story about the mob to get me alone. Isn’t that the truth?”
“I wish it were, doll, but there really are things out there that go bump in the night.”
Melina smiled. “Are you one of them?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Dodging the question. Typical man.”
“There’s nothing typical about me, sweetheart. I’d be more than happy to show you whenever you’re ready.”
Melina traced a finger over Mac’s collarbone. “I’m not sure you’re ready for me.”
With a small laugh, she moved around him and headed towards the door.
“I’ll always be ready for you, doll.”
Melina tossed a smile over her shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”
Opening the door, she stepped out into the hallway and left Mac behind. A deep breath escaped her as she headed back towards the front entrance of the club. She’d kissed him.
What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t even like him. Okay, maybe that was a stretch. Was he cocksure and confident? Absolutely. Did his smart mouth get on her nerves? Without question. But the moment their lips had touched, she’d started to burn. Mac had unleashed something inside of her that she thought she’d never feel.
Want.
Lust.
Need.
It scared the absolute hell out of her.
She didn’t know a thing about Mac.
Does that really matter, when he kisses you like that?
Pushing open the doors to exit the club, Melina shook her head at the long line of people still waiting to get inside. Good luck to them. Throb had looked like it was at maximum capacity already. These poor fools were going to be waiting in vain.
Yes, they were fools, but Melina was not.
There was an old saying, “If you stick your hand in the fire, you’re going to get burned.”
She’d been burned and there was no way she would allow herself to be consumed. Men and emotions made a woman vulnerable. Melina wasn’t going to allow that to happen to her. Shivering at the remembrance of their kiss, she headed down the block towards where she had parked her car. If a simple kiss was causing her so much turmoil, it would be better if she didn’t see Mac again. There was no telling what would happen if she did.
The sound of crunching gravel made Melina stop and turn around. Her breath dried in her throat when she saw two men behind her with guns pointed straight at her. Raising her arms, Melina’s purse dropped to the ground.
“Please don’t shoot me.”
One of the men opened his jacket and removed something. He held it up for Melina to see, all the while keeping the gun steadily trained on her. It was a shiny silver badge.
Fuck.
“Melina Morgan, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you—”
“I haven’t done anything.”
The dark-haired man holding his badge continued to read her the Miranda Rights while his orange-haired partner put his gun away and proceeded to cuff her.
“You have to at least tell me what the charges are,” Melina said.
“Solicitation. Let’s go.”
Melina nearly stumbled as she was unceremoniously jerked and dragged behind the undercover officers.
This couldn’t be happening.
This was supposed to be a night out. A night to throw her cares to the wind and have some much-needed fun. Instead, she was heading to the slammer.
As Melina was shouldered roughly into the backseat of an unmarked SUV, she caught sight of a familiar man coming down the street. Mac. Melina opened her mouth to say something, maybe to warn Mac off, even though she had no reason to, but something made her stay quiet.
Maybe it was the way Mac’s gaze caught the glint of the cuffs Melina wore before his fist slammed into the concrete support beam. Then, he turned fast on his heel and disappeared.
Great.
Even Mac wasn’t going to help her.
She was on her own.
Again.
Not that Melina was surprised.
Life was a bitch and once again, Melina had been fucked over.
Melina sat in the dark room, handcuffed to the table in front of her. She could see people moving through the large glass window to the right of her. Her mind had still failed to process that she’d been arrested.
Solicitation.
A prostitute was the last thing she was. Besides, she wasn’t buying any of this. It was too random. There was more at play here than she was being told, there had to be. Her gaze narrowed when the door opened and the two men who’d arrested her waltzed in. The ginger-haired one took a seat on the opposite side of her, while the dark-haired man took a spot leaning in the corner watching her.
“Ms. Morgan, I’m Detective Parks. My partner is Detective Keaton,” the ginger-haired man said.
Melina said nothing. She simply stared.
“You’re a very beautiful woman. It’s easy to see why men can’t help themselves around you,” Detective Keaton said.
“It’s not a crime to be beautiful.”
“Indeed, it isn’t.” Detective Parks leaned back in his chair and regarded her with a smirk.
Melina itched to put her stiletto through his throat.
“No. It’s not a crime to be beautiful, but it is a crime to solicit,” the other detective said.
“I went to a club,” Melina replied, unaffected. “Last time I checked, going to a club was in no way related to soliciting.”
Detective Keaton came towards the table and sat on the edge next to his partner.
“It is when your patrons include two members of the Pivetti crime family.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play stupid. We watched you in action tonight. You’re good. I’ll give you that,” Parks said.
“You guys really need to get out more.”
Keaton tapped his partner’s shoulder. “We’ve got a smart aleck on our hands.”
“Seems that way, but I bet a night in the slammer will make her talk.”
Were these fools for real?
Melina crossed her legs. “Threats aren’t going to work on me. I’ve done nothing wrong and the last thing I’m going to do is let two dimwitted cops intimidate me.”
“We’ve got you, Ms. Morgan, if not for soliciting, then you are definitely working for them in some other capacity. Maybe you’re a mule or a messenger. We’ve been watching that club for long enough to know what beautiful women like you are used for inside that business.”
“This is not The Godfather. Are thin
gs really that slow that you have to result to harassing innocent citizens?”
“If you’re so innocent, make it easy on yourself and be a good citizen. Tell us what we want to know.”
Melina would not have been surprised if flames started shooting from her eyes.
Be a good citizen.
They could go fuck themselves.
“Why don’t you two stick this illegal interrogation up your asses? And while you attempt to pull it back out, let me have my phone call. I’m done talking.”
Melina turned her head and refused to look at either of them. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Yes, she’d just told them a few words, but if they acquiesced and let her have her phone call, who would she call? Dulcea was out of the question. No way would her boss want to be within a mile of the cops, especially with them saying Melina was soliciting at the time of her arrest.
She had no one to call.
Melina was alone in the world and the hard reality of that was staring her right in the face.
“Ah, Mr. Maccari, I wondered which one of Miss Morgan’s patrons would come to her rescue this evening.”
Mac turned at the sound of the weasel-like voice, only to come face to face with a plain-clothes police detective. Smiling slowly, Mac looked the cop over. Seemingly tired and worn, the man’s clothes were wrinkled, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons had been undone to loosen the collar around his neck.
Apparently, illegally interrogating people could make a man exhausted.
“Patron?” Mac asked. “I can’t say I know what you’re talking about.”
“Melina Morgan—escort extraordinaire. I found it interesting that the Pivetti family is shelling out the dough for a hooker of Melina’s caliber. That’s quite a cost, James.”
Mac lifted a brow, refusing to show his annoyance and confusion. “First off, it’s Mac.”
“Ah,” the detective said, smiling, “your father is the James of the family, yes?”
What in the hell was this guy playing at?
Mac didn’t give him an answer.
“How about I just call you Maccari?”
“How about you get these fucking tools you call desk workers to enter in the bail money I just paid them, approve the bond, and release Melina like the law demands?” Mac asked, tired of the games.
“They will,” the man assured, “once we have a little chat. As I said, I find it interesting the Pivettis have such a high-priced escort working one of their clubs, when we both know they can have more than enough women to take care of that business. Is the boss stepping up his game, Maccari?”
Fuck this.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Mac said simply.
And he never would.
Frankly, Mac had no idea what the detective was going on about anyway. Melina had no ties to the mob and whatever work she did as an escort had nothing to do with the Pivetti family. This guy was pulling at straws and would come up with nothing. Mac didn’t plan on helping him along in that game.
“Funny, Melina said the same thing. Nothing to say, no calls to make, no info to give. But rest assured, Maccari, my department has been watching Guido’s club for a while, as well as his crew and the rest of Luca Pivetti’s business. We caught a lucky break with Melina being at the club. I’m sure the task force working the escort scene won’t mind opening their case files to us so we can have a little look at what they know, too.”
Good to know.
Mac didn’t give a damn, nor did he know, what they could or would find.
They could have fun trying.
His plan was simple—get Melina the hell out of jail. As it were, she’d been in there all weekend. Mac had waited until Melina was arraigned on false solicitation charges the day before, and then that morning, he skipped down to the jail with money in hand to bail her out.
Nothing was ever simple and Mac had a mess to clean now.
The police was just one of them.
Mac smirked. “Then I suppose my girl gave you everything you need to know.”
“Well—”
“The bail has been paid,” Mac interrupted coolly. “I’d appreciate it if you released my girlfriend.”
Mac seriously hoped Melina didn’t have a fit when she heard that little title. It wasn’t like Mac had much of a choice. He could have brushed off the scuffle he had with Vin the night at the club, but then Melina got arrested. Guido got wind of a woman being arrested outside of his club for solicitation, and when he added in the fact that the same woman had been the source of discontent between two of the Capo’s guys … well, Mac had to make up something worthy to explain that shit away to his Capo.
So, Mac’s girl she was.
Melina would have to suck it up until Mac came up with a better plan.
“Do you often allow your woman to dance with another man like she’s single and ready for the taking?” the detective asked.
Mac bristled at the comment, but hid it well. “Watched that, did you?”
The man grinned, but said nothing.
“Good to know you pigs are inside the club. I’ll be sure to let Guido know, so he can make sure you don’t get inside again.”
The detective’s haughtiness faded fast.
“As far as who my girl was dancing with in Guido’s club and what she was doing,” Mac continued calmly, “I don’t think there’s very much to be concerned about. I invited her to the club and while she was waiting for me to finish up some business, she danced with another man.”
“A man you clearly took issue with.”
“I handled it. Vincent won’t make the mistake of pushing up on my girl again.”
“Him, not her,” the detective said, shaking his head.
“Because he knows better.”
All made men did.
Claimed women were untouchable.
Melina just got branded, whether she wanted to be or not. Mac figured it would keep her ass out of trouble until both the police and Guido’s interest in the woman had faded. Then she could do whatever in the hell she wanted.
“High bail,” the detective noted, looking over the paperwork Mac had signed on the receptionist’s desk.
“Three grand isn’t bad.”
Mac had paid higher for himself on a weapons charge, actually.
“I’ll have Melina released within the hour.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that,” Mac replied.
“Yes, well, we’ll have a few more discussions with her, I’m sure.”
Mac scowled. “When you do, there’ll be a lawyer there.”
“Like the public attorney assigned to her case at arraignment?”
Don’t give him what he wants, Mac told himself. “My suggestion is that you drop these bullshit charges on her before you start climbing down a rabbit hole you can’t get out of.”
“The woman is an escort, Maccari.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”
“And she was in Guido Vasari’s club, a joint known for the backroom hookers.”
Mac’s jaw ticked, his agitation beginning to boil over again. “Maybe so, but my girl isn’t one of them. She wasn’t working that night.”
“She sure looked like she was.”
Mac resisted the urge to punch the guy in the throat.
“The bail is paid,” he repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “Release Melina Morgan.”
The detective waved at the woman waiting behind the desk and then turned on his heel without another word.
Mac took that as a battle won.
Melina snatched the heels and purse that were pushed out to her in a plastic tub through the hole in a Plexiglas window. She had yet to notice Mac just fifteen feet away, waiting for the right time to step in. It was likely that she still didn’t know who had gotten her out of jail.
She had her dress from the club on but her face had been washed free of makeup and her hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun.
Jail was not a good look on a lot of women.
It kind of looked good on Melina.
Mac chuckled to himself as the woman behind the glass rambled on about the things that Melina had given up when being taken into the jail. Melina looked like she was two seconds away from ripping the poor girl’s throat out.
Touchy, touchy.
“Thanks,” Melina said, clipped and angry, snatching a pen to sign the document that had been handed over to her.
Turning on her heel, Melina’s gaze met Mac’s from across the room and she froze.
“Doll,” Mac drawled. “You look like you’re ready for a fight. Good thing I’ve got fast feet, hmm?”
Briefly, Melina’s shoulders loosened. The detective who had been bothering Mac earlier waltzed in behind the Plexiglas window. Another ginger-haired man followed behind. As the two looked over the paperwork and chatted with the woman who had signed Melina’s things out, they also kept an eye on the meeting between Mac and Melina.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you in here to rot, did you?” he asked when she stayed quiet.
“I—”
Mac couldn’t let Melina ruin the cover story he’d created for her with the detectives. It was better for him to cull the possibility of that nonsense as quick as possible. His goal was only to keep her out of further trouble, whether she liked it or not.
“I take care of my girl,” Mac said, flashing Melina a smile. “Isn’t that right, doll?”
The stiffness in Melina’s posture and the fire in her gaze returned in an instant. Mac could practically see the retort forming on her tongue.
“How many times do I have to ask you not to call me that, Mac?”
Pushing off the wall with a slow confidence that drew Melina’s gaze downward, Mac crossed the fifteen or so feet separating them. If much more came out of her mouth, she might blow his cover story with the detectives still in hearing range. Melina didn’t want the kind of trouble that might follow her if those bastards believed she was involved with Cosa Nostra or Guido’s business, beyond her personal involvement with Mac.
