Gun Moll (3 page)

If only things were
that easy. Hoping to seal the deal, Jameson had insisted that she accompany him
and the men to the latest in entertainment for the rich, bored and ungrateful.
As an amateur kickboxer herself, Melina could appreciate the physicality and
training any athlete had to endure when preparing for a sport. But underground
fighting was a different breed altogether. In Melina’s mind, it was barbaric.
Grown men bashing in each other’s faces while a bunch of snotty, rich people
bet on them like they were a bunch of fucking animals.

Doing her
damnedest not to curl her lips in disgust, Melina allowed Garrett to place his
hand on the small of her back and lead her to a ringside seat. In front of her
was a square boxing ring, surrounded by a chain-link fence. An extraordinarily
thin woman stood inside the ring, wearing a red string bikini.
Male
chauvinism at its best.
Melina rolled her eyes.

“I’d give my right
nut to see you wearing that,” Garrett whispered in her ear.

Melina laughed.
“Your right nut is exactly what it would cost you, too.”

“Just one nut? I
think a lady like you is definitely worth two,” a new voice said near her.

Melina shuddered.
Like an invisible force drawing her, she turned and found a pair of hazel eyes
that stared straight into her soul.

S
he was gorgeous.

Not in the usual
hot body and pretty face kind of way, either.

No.

Gorgeous
.

In a tight dress
that showcased an amazing set of curves—made to fit a man’s hands—and full lips
set into a natural pout as she stared at Mac, she caught him. Sexy. Confident.
Womanly. The brief glimpses of her profile that he had managed to get over the
last hour hadn’t been nearly enough to do her justice.

Beautiful women
didn’t trip Mac up. He’d seen more than enough of those pretty faces over the
years, and taken his taste of a few along the way, but this woman was something
else entirely. Dark-caramel skin, russet eyes, and wavy, black hair that was long
enough to wrap his fists in and pull.

Shit.

He wondered if she
would like that.

She had a
take-no-bullshit demeanor that he’d heard her grace her companion with more
than once throughout the night. Mac was willing to bet she was the kind of
woman who enjoyed fucking men over, but had yet to meet the one she didn’t, or better
yet, couldn’t.

The man who could
trip her up.

Like she was
finally coming to her senses, the woman blinked and smiled slightly. “I beg
your pardon?”

The man at her
side wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. Mac didn’t miss
the disgusted shudder the woman tried to suppress.

Right then, he
knew.

This woman was an
escort. High-priced, guessing by the man’s appearance and attitude mixed in
with hers, not to mention where they were. These underground fights didn’t let
the fucking dregs in, after all. It was common for the very wealthy men and
women who attended the events to bring along someone other than their spouse.

Like a hired date.

The woman looked
Mac over again. For the most part, he would have called her glance dismissive,
except she lingered far too long on the way his suit hugged his frame and the
collar of his dress shirt that was opened at the top two buttons.

“Two nuts, huh?”
the woman asked.

“Oh, you’re
certainly worth two,” Mac replied. “But I think you’d have a lot more fun with
a man who wasn’t willing to give them up just to get a taste. You know, the
kind of man that makes it worth your while to show it off.”

The man at her
side sneered. “Hey—”

Mac held up a
hand, silencing the guy instantly. “I’m not talking to you.”

He knew better
than to piss off patrons at the Ferro fights. Frankly, Mac knew better than to
be at the underground fights, which were organized and run by a rival New York
Cosa Nostra family.
La famiglia
was all about loyalty, after all, and
playing fun with another family’s business was a dangerous game.

Mac needed the
money, so he signed up for a fight.

“Melina,” the guy
murmured in the woman’s ear, “let’s go find a better view of the cage, yes?”

Melina
.

He tried her name
in his mouth silently, liking the way it felt. Escort or not, Mac wanted to
know this woman. Especially when she flicked him with a look that screamed
disinterest on the surface but burned with curiosity all the same.

Mac loved a good
challenge. He made a mental note to find this Melina again after the fight, if
he was able, and her
date
didn’t sneak her off early.

The guy openly
glared at Mac.

Sorry to ruin your
evening,
cafone.

“Mac, my boy,
you’re up next! You’ve got five minutes to get ready.
Capisce
?”

Melina’s gaze
caught Mac’s and he winked at her.

“Get used to
hearing that name,” Mac murmured, still smirking like a motherfucker. “It’ll be
said a lot tonight.”

She didn’t respond;
the fool pulled her away.

“All right, Macky
boy, lemme tape up those hands of yours good and tight.”

Mac sighed,
willing away his irritation with the fight manager. Pissing off the guy who
could get Mac into the cage or throw him out of it didn’t seem like a good
idea. Why did people just assume they could take his name and twist it however
they saw fit?

“Just Mac,
Cordial.”

“Yeah, well, I
like Macky. Shut your mouth. You’re better with your fists anyway.”

Perfetto
.

 Mac dropped it.
“What’s the payout?”

“If you lose,
nothing.”

“I’m not going to
lose.”

Cordial chuffed
under his breath as he wrapped another line of tape across Mac’s knuckles and
under his palm. “You’re too cocky for your own good, boy.”

“Have I lost a
fight in here before?” Mac asked.

“No, but there’s
always a first time for everything. And an arrogant attitude is the fastest way
to get there.”

“Payout?” he asked
again.

“I won’t know
until you’re in the ring. They changed up the betting. Frankie didn’t want to
have a list of fights for the night. He wanted the betting to be spur-of-the-moment
and straight out of the stupid, excited pockets.”

Mac laughed under
his breath. “It’s no wonder there’s free liquor in here now. I was curious about
that earlier, but I think I get it now.”

Cordial smiled.
“Bang on, my boy. The drunker they are, the more excited they get, and the
bigger they bet. You always seem to draw a good number.”

“Is Tank still
meeting me in the cage?”

His companion’s
smile faded fast.

“What?” Mac
demanded.

 “Tank had to bow
out last minute,” Cordial said quietly, focusing all of his attention on taping
up Mac’s other hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just get in there, fight, and don’t
pay attention to the last name of your opponent.”

Shit.

That did not sound
good.

“What’s his last
name, Cordial?”

“Ferro.”

Fuck.

“Frankie’s boy?”
Mac asked.

Cordial nodded.

Mac figured. Junior
was the only Ferro that Mac knew who occasionally liked to step into a cage and
fight. The guy was good, as far as that went. He could take care of himself and
he wasn’t liable to get beat to death or something during a match.

But he was still a
fucking Ferro.

In Cosa Nostra,
men didn’t fight one another. Part of the oath men took when entering into the
life explicitly forbade made men from physically hurting another made man. It
was against every rule Mac had ever learned in
la famiglia
. It also
didn’t help that the two men came from rival families and word might get out
that Mac had taken a Ferro son on in the cage. Despite having his Capo’s okay
for the fights on occasion, Mac didn’t have the main boss’s okay.

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.