Gun Moll (18 page)

“It is,” he
murmured in her ear. “But with these people, it is just as much about the boss
celebrating his youngest child’s eighteenth birthday, as it is about the girl
herself.”

“Why?”

“She’s of age, I
guess.”

“To what, Mac?”

“Marry,” he said
simply.

Melina sighed.
“She’s a girl.”

Mac’s face was
stone-cold and impassive as he replied, “Yes, but she’s also a Don’s daughter.
It is what it is, doll.”

“Mac, my boy.”

Melina inwardly flinched
at the voice of Guido, Mac’s Capo. Mac’s arm tightened around Melina’s waist as
they turned to face the older man. He was classed up in a tailored suit, a
sharp tie, and a sly smile. Gone were the undone buttons on his shirt showing
chest hair and the gold chain around his neck. Guido appeared to be a cultured,
well-dressed man ready for a classy party.

Appearances were
deceiving.

Melina knew that
fact better than most.

“And, Melina, it’s
wonderful to see you again, too,” Guido said.

“Skip,” Mac
greeted with what sounded like forced politeness.

Guido looked
straight past Mac to Melina. The leer on his chubby face was enough to make
Melina cringe.

“You’re looking
mighty fine tonight, sweetheart,” Guido said.

Mac’s fingers
pressed roughly into Melina’s hip before he pushed her closer into his warm
side. His lips pressed to her temple with a brief kiss. A heat spread in her
stomach at Mac’s touch and kiss, shooting straight down between her thighs. She
would recognize a sign of possession anywhere, and that one was written as
clear as day.

For the sake of
show, Melina let Mac do what he wanted.

The
show
,
right.

Melina would keep
telling herself that and ignore the way she felt. It would work … eventually.

“She is looking
beautiful, isn’t she?” Mac said, flashing a grin at Melina. “She spent the day
being spoiled, so she’s ready for a bit of fun with me tonight.”

Melina smiled
back. “Mac always does know how to show me a good time.”

Guido chuckled.
“Broads like you deserve to be spoiled every once in a while. I’m glad to see
this man of yours is treating you properly.”

Mac scoffed. “I
know how to treat a woman.”

“Treating and
handling are two different things, Mac.” Guido’s leer deepened as he eyed
Melina’s chest openly. She beat back the desire to bark at him to look at her
eyes. “But I’m sure you have both under control, hmm?”

Mac turned Melina
a bit in his hold to put her slightly behind him as he grabbed a piece of blue
cheese from a serving tray as one of the wait staff walked by. It was a subtle
way to take Guido’s eyes off her. Melina appreciated the move.

“You know it,
Skip,” Mac said.

“Come. It’s time
to say hello to the boss.” Guido waved a hand and spun on his heel.

Melina’s throat
constricted with anxiety over the simple statement. Mac shot her an inquisitive
glance when she didn’t move forward with him to follow behind Guido.

“You okay?” Mac
asked.

Pushing the
nervousness away, Melina nodded. Lying seemed the way to go for tonight. This
was all about the show. “Yeah.”

Mac intertwined
his fingers with Melina’s and pulled her close again. She felt better at his
side, strangely, and chose to stay there as they strolled across the ballroom
floor. Melina ignored the curious gazes of the people she didn’t know. Their
whispers traveled, but not loud enough that she could hear them clearly.

The closer they
came to Luca Pivetti and the two men standing beside him, the quieter people
became. At just a few feet away, Luca held up one hand and passed Mac and
Melina a dismissive glance.

“A moment,” the
man said sharply.

Melina blinked,
stunned.

She listened as
the Don of the Pivetti crime family discussed the weather for the next week,
the latest game he’d watched, and what he’d purchased for his daughter for her
birthday. He held an entire ten-minute conversation with the men while Guido,
Mac, and Melina stood off to the side, waiting to be introduced into a
conversation that didn’t seem all that important.

They were the
lesser to these people, she realized.

Outsiders.

Newcomers.

Quietly, Mac said
to Melina, “On the left of the boss is his underboss, Enzo. On his right, his
consigliere and lawyer, Matthew. Remember their faces and names, doll. They’re
important men. They’re the closest any man will ever get to the boss without
being him. You understand?”

“Yes,” Melina
whispered.

Taking another
look at the two older gentlemen talking with the Pivetti Don, Melina realized
she did recognize them. Their pictures had also been shoved in her face with
demands for information. The cops hadn’t focused on them nearly as much as
they’d focused on what she might know about the boss, however.

“Okay, good.”

“Yes, let’s do
that,” Luca said, chuckling loudly. “Put five down on them for me. They’re
going to win the series, I’m telling you.”

“Just five?”
Matthew asked.

“No, let’s make it
ten thousand on the game. Might as well go all in.”

“I’ll let Mickey
know.”

Then, Luca turned
to face Guido with a tight smile. “Guido, how are you, my old friend?”

“Well, Boss,”
Guido replied. “Happy birthday to your daughter, of course.”

Guido’s tone held
no hint of his earlier rudeness or arrogance. He suddenly seemed like a whole
new man with his hands limp at his sides and his head bowed slightly. Stepping
forward, Guido took the hand that Luca outstretched and kissed the ring on the
man’s index finger without hesitating. Then, Guido stepped back just as fast.

“Yes, thank you.
Lora is vibrant tonight, isn’t she?” Luca glanced over Guido’s shoulder at Mac
and Melina. “And who do we have here?”

Guido tipped his
head to the side. “James Jr. Maccari and his—”

“Female,” Luca
interrupted coolly.

The man’s gaze
traveled over Melina with a disinterested stare that burned. She wasn’t so much
offended by his rejection as the coldness in his eyes. Somehow, instantly, she
knew this man disliked her. He practically radiated it.

Mac stiffened
beside Melina, and his hand held hers tighter. “Boss.”

“You prefer Mac,
yes?” Luca asked.

“Yes.”

“Good. James
reminds me of your father, and that makes me want to blow your brains out. If
it weren’t for his ability to clean up, when need be, I would have done that
exact thing to him years ago.”

Mac cleared his
throat and said, “I’m not my father.”

“Damn good thing,”
Luca muttered around the rim of his brandy glass.

“Could we—” Guido
started to say.

His words were
interrupted by the hand that Luca raised.

“Quiet, Guido.”
Luca flicked Melina with another cool stare before turning it on Mac. “You and
I should have a chat, Mac. We’re due one. After all I’ve heard about you, it
seems a shame that I’ve yet to meet one of the best
soldatos
that my
famiglia
has to offer.”

Guido’s cheek
ticked at that statement. “We can do that, Boss.”

“You’ve been
keeping this boy a secret, Guido,” the man on Luca’s left—Enzo—said.

“Not a secret,
just—”

“It’s not important,”
Luca interrupted. “Come, we can go to my office and have a proper drink without
everyone watching.”

Melina could
practically feel Mac’s tension release.

“Sure,” Mac said,
stepped forward to follow the Pivetti Don as the man turned.

Melina moved to
go, too.

Luca said over his
shoulder, “Not her.”

Mac stopped his
walk, his grip on Melina’s hand turning almost painful. “Pardon, Boss?”

“Not her,” Luca
repeated without even turning around. “I’m sure she’ll be fine to mingle with
the crowd, Mac. This shouldn’t be such an unusual event for a woman of her …
business. Their typical dates tend to be wealthy. She knows how to act, how to
talk, and whatever else. Besides, I happen to know that Melina also attended a
few events in a ballroom while growing up, although I believe the military
usually throws them for charities, awards and things.”

Melina
straightened like someone had poured ice water over her head.

Military
?

How did he know
that?

Mac swallowed
hard, passing Melina a look that asked a million questions.

“I’ll be okay,”
she told him. “Go ahead.”

But she wasn’t.
Not at all.

More than ever, Melina
wanted to high tail it as fast as she could away from these people and the
Pivetti boss.

The man didn’t
like her and he knew too much about her.

That screamed bad
news.

Mac released
Melina’s hand. “Smile, doll. You look too beautiful not to smile.”

Melina forced a
smile on her face for Mac’s benefit and nothing more. She could tell by the frown
he tried to hide that he knew it was false.

“Go,” she told
him.

“If I have to
repeat myself,” Luca said, “then I will simply go to my office without having a
meeting with you, Mac, while my men escort you from my property.”

Melina turned on
her heel and walked away, not giving Mac a choice in the matter at all. Over
her shoulder, she caught his gaze as he checked on her while he followed behind
the boss, his Capo, and the other men.

Avoiding the
people in the ballroom, Melina stole a glass of champagne from the servers as
tables of meal platters were brought out. More tables followed with chairs as
the ballroom was transformed from an open space to a large dining room for the
guests.

Unsure of what she
should do, Melina stayed to the far wall and amused herself with the whispers
of people around her. Mostly, they were talking about her. It only really
became annoying when the color of her skin was mentioned more than once by a
group of bitchy, statuesque women with plastic-looking faces that was huddled
in a group only a few feet away from her.

They had to know
Melina could hear them.

She refused to
give them a reaction.

“Ladies,” a
heavily accented voice said.

Melina found who
the voice belonged to almost instantly. She recognized the accent as South
African as a beautiful, dark-skinned woman stepped between Melina and the other
women. Her dress was a long flowing, black number that showed off her tightly
braided hair and her delicate neckline.

No doubt, Melina
had a feeling she knew who the woman was. She just didn’t know her name. Mac
hadn’t mentioned what it was earlier when he talked about the wife of Luca
Pivetti.

“Since when has
the color of a woman’s skin been an issue in this home?” the woman asked.

The other ladies
gaped like fishes before scampering off when the woman flicked her wrist at
them. She’d done it with such a flair that almost made it seem like she was
shooing away garbage.

Once the group was
gone, the woman spun around to face Melina. Her face was pixie-like in nature,
though her lips were full and her eyes were a deep, dark brown.

“Thank you,”
Melina said quietly.

“Oh, darling,
don’t thank me for that. My God, they work every last nerve I have. What is
your name?”

“Melina Morgan.”

“Hello, Melina.”
The woman held out a hand, and Melina took it. “It’s nice to meet you. I rarely
forget a face that enters my home, so I assumed you must be a new guest. I
apologize for not coming over sooner. I’m Neeya Pivetti.”

Melina smiled.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“I noticed you talking
with my husband earlier. I hope he didn’t make you too uncomfortable. Luca
doesn’t do well with newcomers.”

“It wasn’t that
bad.”

“Liar. Luca is a
tyrant and I know it.”

Melina laughed
along with Neeya.

The woman’s
husband might not have acted like he liked Melina very much, but his wife did.
Melina would take it.

Women tended to
hold the power, after all.

Men simply thought
they did.

S
ilently, Mac
followed behind the Pivetti boss and his men. As Luca sipped from his brandy
glass, he barely acknowledged the people and staff he passed. The man was stiff
like a board, and a certain air radiated from him in waves.

Melina had been
right.

Money did smell
like arrogance and entitlement.

Reminding himself
that respect was the most important word of the evening, Mac stuffed his
opinion of Luca down where it wouldn’t bother him. It certainly hadn’t helped
that the Don seemed less than friendly to Melina, and his words to her came out
even colder.

Behind the boss,
Matthew and Enzo trailed close. They still kept a far enough distance from Luca
that spoke to Mac of placement in the family. Luca held the highest spot, and
so he walked ahead first. Matthew and Enzo backed their boss up as a
consigliere and underboss, and so they walked second, behind the man in charge.

Mac and Guido
walked side by side.

Strangely, Mac
didn’t feel like the lesser. He knew he was to these men—a
soldato
for
the family, working towards his button with a drunk for a father and little
else. It was a known opinion, as far as that went.

Mac refused to let
it affect him.

What he couldn’t
ignore, however, was the nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him
over and over that he had been forced to leave Melina behind. That was not a
part of Mac’s plans in anyway. He didn’t like the thought of her being left to
fend for herself against people she didn’t know.

Not that someone
might cause her issues, but Mac couldn’t be sure. Either way, it left a bad
taste in his mouth and a sinking feeling in his stomach. No doubt, Melina could
handle herself if need be. It still made Mac feel like a giant piece of shit.

“You good?” Guido
asked.

“Sure, Skip.”

“Put your little
woman out of your mind while we get this meeting over and done with, Mac,”
Guido said too quietly for the men a few feet ahead of them to hear. “Luca’s
got a hard-on for making sure no newcomers around his men and family are out to
get him in some way. Once this night is over, you won’t have to worry about
Luca again.”

Mac frowned, but
hid it by glancing down at the floor. Guido made it sound like this would be
Mac’s one and only meeting with the Pivetti crime boss. Mac fully intended to
work his way into the Pivetti Cosa Nostra, and in doing so, would need to be
front row and center for the boss to see Mac at his best, and unfortunately,
some of his worst moments. He would need to be available for the boss, should
Luca need something or call on him. It was how a solider went from the streets,
to an associate, to eventually a made man in
la famiglia
.

It was a process.
It sometimes took years, and for others, decades. It could be relentless,
brutal, and demanding. Cosa Nostra was a bastard in that way to the men who
were determined to join. Nothing about the mafioso life was easy or simple. Men
gave everything to get their button, and more often than not, the button was
the only fucking thing they were left with when it was said and done.

A man didn’t get his
in
to the family simply by knowing someone who knew someone else. Guido
was very aware of all that shit.

The man also knew
how badly Mac wanted his button.

Something was off
with Guido. Maybe it was being close to the boss. Men tended to act differently
when important people were around. It could have been that Guido was concerned
about Mac’s first time having a conversation with Luca, too. Or, maybe it was
something entirely different.

Mac decided to go
along with whatever Guido wanted, or rather, make the man think that’s what was
happening until the Capo’s intentions became clearer.

“You good?” Guido
asked.

“Perfect,” Mac
assured, grinning confidently.

Guido must have
been satisfied with the response, because he rolled his eyes and patted Mac on
the shoulder like he usually did when he was pleased with his
soldato
.
“Good, good. Just keep quiet unless the boss asks something important from you
directly. Otherwise, I’ll handle the talking.”

“I’m not an idiot,
Guido. I can handle a single conversation. I do just fine when I go out into
public by myself, you know.”

Guido’s hand
landed hard to Mac’s back with enough force to sting. Mac didn’t even wince,
but he got his Capo’s unspoken statement.

Shut up, do what I
say, and follow the fucking rules, Mac
.

“This isn’t the
public,” Guido said low, eyeing the men walking ahead of them. “This is Cosa
Nostra, my boy. Let a man with the button show you how it’s done.”

Mac’s jaw ticked
in his agitation. Once again, Guido was shoving him behind to take center stage.
Usually, he did nonsense like this whenever he wanted to take credit for
something. Tonight, there was nothing to take credit or get praised for.

“Whatever you say,
Skip,” Mac forced himself to say.

“Remember that,
Mac.”

“Mac,” Luca
called.

Mac’s gaze drifted
to the boss. Luca shot a look over his shoulder and smiled. The sight took Mac
by surprise, considering the fact that since he met Luca, the boss’s expression
had barely changed from an emotionless disinterest.

“Yeah, Boss?” Mac
asked.

“What do you
prefer to drink?”

Nothing
.

Mac didn’t drink
at all.

He also couldn’t
refuse a boss. Refusing was as bad as shunning. It screamed foul and rude for a
man to reject a boss when he was being gracious with his time and space. Men
earned themselves bullets for ungrateful behavior.

“Whiskey, neat,”
Mac lied.

“I’ll have that
ready for you,
soldato
.”

“Here you are,
sir,” a mousey-looking girl said.

Mac took the glass
of whiskey she offered with a smile. The girl didn’t return it. The only reason
Mac thought of her as a girl and not a woman was because she seemed far too
young to be working in someone’s home as a maid … or whatever she was. Her tiny
frame did little to fill out the uniform she wore, her small hands were fit for
a child, and her quiet voice barely broke a whisper. A child was more like it.
The top of the girl’s head barely reached Mac’s chest.

She was dressed
like the people who had cleaned his shoes earlier in the night had been clothed,
with a drab gray uniform, black shoes, and her hair pulled back tight. She
didn’t look him in the eye, kept her head down, and scurried from the room like
someone might snap her with a stick the moment Luca cleared his throat.

“Amusing, isn’t
it?” Luca asked.

Mac stared in the
direction the girl had gone. What about that was amusing?

“How old is she?”
Mac asked, curious.

Luca tilted his
head to the side like he was considering the question. “About how old would you
say, Enzo?”

Enzo glanced up
from the book he was looking over on Luca’s large, cherry-colored oak desk.
“Marcus said fifteen when he sent her. If he was being truthful, then she’s
about sixteen now.”

Mac recognized the
name Marcus as belonging to Luca’s father-in-law. What he didn’t understand was
the rest of Luca’s words.
Sent her
?

Luca must have
noticed the confusion cracking Mac’s stony mask. “My wife’s father has a hand
in a few different … trades.”

“Like diamonds,”
Mac said.

“Ah, you’ve been
doing your homework,” Luca said, a teasing praise coloring his tone.

It didn’t sound
entirely innocent.

Matthew chuckled.
“Nothing wrong with that, Mac. It’s good to know who you’re meeting. Don’t
believe everything you’re told out there on the streets. More often than not,
by the time a story has made it to the people outside of this house, it’s been
changed and exaggerated so much that more of it is lies than it is truth.”

“Or,” Enzo
drawled, smirking wickedly, “… it’s entirely true and whatever it was that
happened is so shocking, people don’t trust that anyone will believe them,
regardless if they are being honest or not.”

Luca laughed
darkly, tilting his glass towards his men. “Always on point, boys.”

The camaraderie
between the men was just about the only thing that felt normal to Mac. He
honestly believed that Luca was close, if not best friends, with his underboss
and consigliere. There had to be a certain level of trust between the three for
them to work together, after all.

A quiet Guido
sipped a glass of spiced rum as he sat in a corner chair, watching the exchange
with a guarded gaze and nothing more.

“As I was saying,”
Luca said, turning back to give his attention to Mac. “My father-in-law has a
hand in a few trades. He fancies himself a hero of sorts. One of his trades
often crosses paths with an auction of sorts.”

“And that girl
comes into any of this how?” Mac asked, carefully choosing his words.

“They’re gifts, of
course. Marcus believes he’s saving them when he can, taking them from
something horrible, and putting them somewhere better. It’s the best they can
have with no names, no history, and no real life. If you understand what I
mean, Mac.”

He couldn’t be
talking about …

Was he?

“Trafficked
humans,” Mac said quietly.

Both Enzo and
Matthew watched Mac as if they were assessing his tone and reaction to the
news. Mac refused to let them see how disgusted the idea of trafficked souls
actually made him. There was nothing he could do about the girl, or the other
people he’d met earlier. And if he believed what Luca told him, then they were
treated far better here than they would be elsewhere.

“Well, the term
used at auction is ‘slaves’,” Luca explained, sounding entirely bored. “At
least, that’s how Marcus described it. He’s known to trade certain things for
the ones he believes can be saved, for whatever reason. Occasionally, he sends
them here. My wife is good with them—she’s had her own experience in all that
nonsense, but I won’t get into that.”

Mac took some sense
of comfort in knowing the …
slaves
… were treated well, and that Luca’s
wife took care of them in some way. It still didn’t settle quite right, but Mac
didn’t have a choice but to drop it.

“As I said,” Luca
added, shrugging, “I find them amusing.”

Mac swallowed
hard, lifted his glass to hide the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and pretended
to take a sip of whiskey. When Luca spun on his heel to chat with his two men
for a moment, and Guido’s attention was diverted to the boss, Mac tipped his
glass into the bamboo tree in the corner, and dumped out a quarter of the
contents.

Drinking was not
an option for Mac. He would fake it for someone else’s benefit—or to trick a
man, if a situation called for it—but he wouldn’t willingly drink. Not after
watching his drunk of a father use alcohol like a crutch for most of his life.