by Bethany-Kris
“He was on the path,” he heard Luca said. “They didn’t attack—he was on the path!”
Mac heard his boss’s words, but his gaze was stuck on something else. Despite the shadows, he could plainly see the red coating Luca’s hands.
Blood.
But who did it belong to?
Police stations were cold as fuck.
It was even worse when the first thing the cops did when pulling the guests to the wedding into the station was separate them all as much as they possibly could.
Mac watched his wife be shuffled away with his mother, sister, and a few other men and women that weren’t entirely affiliated with the Pivetti Cosa Nostra.
So was the way with the pigs, he knew.
They were far more likely to separate the people they thought were the weakest in the bunch first—the ones they assumed would talk.
No one was going to talk.
Nobody fucking knew anything.
Mac certainly didn’t.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Mac passed the clock on the wall a look, checking the time. Frustration thickened his blood as he realized they had missed their flight for Barbados by an hour.
And that just pissed him off.
No woman wanted to spend her wedding night in a fucking police station.
Despite his anger, Mac couldn’t ignore the anxiety simmering through his nervous system. He didn’t have a clue where his wife was, and while he knew that Melina was more than capable of handling a police detective’s questioning, he still didn’t like the idea of it.
Simply because she was his wife—nothing more, nothing less—she would be treated like a criminal.
He also wondered where the hell his mother was, and his sister.
Or why the hell he’d been shoved into a room the size of a goddamn sardine can.
Mac briefly considered why his lawyer hadn’t been called as well, but given he wasn’t under arrest, there was no need for the man to make his way down town to the station in the middle of the night. Because even when the man wasn’t doing actual work for Mac, he just had to be thinking of doing some kind of work, and he was charging by the damn hour.
Giving the time another glance, Mac’s back straightened in the hard, metal chair as the interrogation room’s door flew open. A detective strolled in, and Mac looked toward the mirrored window on the left wall.
“Is your partner going to sit this one out to learn, or what?” Mac asked.
Cops didn’t work alone.
They always had partners.
The plain clothed detective barely passed Mac a look, and he didn’t react all that much to his attitude, either. He wouldn’t usually be so nasty to the police unless they’d provoked him.
He kind of figured dragging him away from his honeymoon was sort of like provoking.
“Where’s my wife?” Mac asked when the man took a seat.
“In a sec,” the detective replied, glancing through a folder.
He had his arm placed just so on the table that Mac couldn’t even get the slightest glimpse at what had the detective’s attention otherwise occupied.
Mac’s irritation jumped a notch when another two minutes passed by without the detective even looking at him. “If you have no questions for me, asshole, I’m going to find my wife and get the fu—”
“In a minute.”
The detective’s blasé attitude rankled Mac’s hackles.
Something was going on here …
He just didn’t know what in the hell it was.
“What can you tell me about … Luca Pivetti?” the detective asked, finally glancing up from the folder and staring Mac right in his eyes.
“Nothing.”
The detective smirked. “Just like any good made man.”
Mac didn’t bite onto that chain. “It’s my wedding night—so if you don’t mind, get the fuck on with whatever it is, or let me get on with my evening. There is no doubt in my mind that you are well aware I was walking my wife to the car when whatever happened, happened.”
The detective still didn’t blink. “What about Matthew Corvi?”
Hesitance stabbed in Mac’s spine, but he answered carefully, as was the way of any made man. “If you’re talking about Luca’s lawyer, that’s all I’ve got to tell about him. He’s a close friend to the boss.”
A scoff answered that back. “Right—close.”
“I don’t have much else to say.”
“Not even about this?”
The detective tossed out the folder, and pictures spread across the table between them.
Bloody pictures.
Pictures that showcased violence.
The man was nearly unrecognizable.
But not entirely.
Matthew’s face look like it had been blown apart all across one of Luca’s walkways.
“Do you happen to know why this may have happened?” the detective asked.
Mac’s gaze flew down to the grotesque shape of Matthew’s mouth, as if he had opened it to shout for help … or something.
But even as he stared at the picture, Mac’s thoughts flew back to the scene he’d witnessed earlier that night between Luca and his two men.
“Well?” the detective asked again.
“No,” Mac said, “I don’t know a fucking thing. Now, where is my wife?”
The room was colder than an icebox and Melina was well aware that it was intentional.
Sitting at the gray table with arms folded, she leaned back in her chair, waiting for the interrogation that she knew was sure to come.
None of this was new to her.
Still, she wondered what the hell was going on.
One minute, she and Mac had finally been ready to leave their wedding reception and the next, all hell had broken loose. Now she was alone and waiting.
At the mercy of pigs once again.
Her gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, the loud tick-tock once again drawing her ire. Another fifteen minutes had passed.
Fifteen minutes, she should have been in Barbados.
Fifteen minutes, of sticking her toes in the sandy beaches.
Fifteen minutes, of making love to her husband.
Her husband.
She had no idea where Mac was.
Once the police had descended on the Pivetti mansion, they’d quickly separated the men and women. For a short time, Melina, Cynthia and Victoria had been together and then she’d been taken away from them.
Isolated.
Alone.
Prime for manipulation.
Too bad for the pigs, Melina had no intention of being manipulated.
“Ah, the blushing bride.”
Melina cut her eyes toward the door as two men entered the room and closed the door behind them. One of the men held a manila folder in his hand. Melina watched the men warily as they came toward the table where she sat.
“You’ll have to excuse my partner, he’s new. I’m Detective Peterson.”
Melina said nothing.
Detective Peterson carefully put the manila folder on the table close enough that Melina could reach it if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
“Just married, huh? I’m sure the police station is not where you wanted to spend your first night as a married woman,” the younger detective said.
“You think?”
“Well, Mrs. Maccari, we don’t want to inconvenience you any longer than necessary but we need some information.”
Melina leaned forward and placed both hands on the table. “I have nothing to say.”
“Melina, Melina, I thought we were going to make this smooth and easy. You help me, I help you.”
“I guess you didn’t hear me the first time. I have nothing to say and if you’re not going to charge me with something, then you need to let me out of here.”
“All right. John, show her the pictures,” Detective Peterson instructed the younger man.
Nodding, the man opened the manila folder and placed a seq
uence of photographs in front of Melina.
“I think you might want to reconsider,” he said to her.
Rolling her eyes at the detectives, Melina reluctantly looked at the pictures in front of her. She recognized the man immediately.
Or rather, what was left of him.
Matthew Corvi, consigliere to Luca Pivetti.
The man’s face looked as if it had nearly been blown to pieces.
Melina shook her head as she quickly glanced at the rest of the pictures. When she was done, she leaned back in her chair.
“Can I go now?” she asked.
Detective Peterson’s face turned a mottled red. “A man has been murdered and you’re going to sit here like you don’t give a damn?”
“See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.”
Melina smiled at the men and both of them looked at each other, seemingly at a loss as to what strategy to try next.
“I’m taking my wife home. Now.”
Melina rose from her seat when she saw her husband standing in the doorway. His eyes were cold and she could see the familiar tic moving in his jaw.
He was pissed, and royally.
“We’re not done,” Detective Peterson said.
“Yes, you are and if you attempt to keep my wife here any longer under false pretenses, this department will be hit with the biggest harassment suit you’ve ever seen and both you pricks will be lucky if you can find jobs picking up trash on the streets,” Mac said.
Melina smirked. “Gentlemen.”
She walked over to her husband and took his arm and together they left the interrogation room. Mac was quiet as she walked with him through the police station.
“I didn’t say anything,” she whispered.
Mac gave her a look. “Trust me, that was not one of my worries. You know how to handle yourself.”
“I just wanted to be sure you knew that. Where are your mom and Victoria?”
“They were released a half hour ago. They’ve already been taken home.”
“Mac, what the hell is going on?”
“I wish I knew.”
Together they exited the police station and Mac ushered her toward a black Bentley. Mac opened the back passenger side door and helped Melina inside. Once she was settled, she slid over to make room for him. When he didn’t join her, she frowned.
“Mac?”
“Stefan is going to make sure you get home safely. I’ll be along as soon as I can.”
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”
Melina smiled but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m sorry, doll. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
She nodded and then Mac closed the door. A few seconds later, the car was moving away from the police station and her husband. Melina sighed. She knew that being married to a made man wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but she never expected to be spending their wedding night being chauffeured home … alone.
Melina sat in the middle of the king-sized bed, eating a bowl of cookies ‘n’ cream ice cream drenched in chocolate syrup. It was nearing midnight and Mac still hadn’t arrived home. She still couldn’t believe that someone had actually been bold enough to murder Luca Pivetti’s right-hand man at her wedding reception.
What had started out as the happiest day of her life had turned into an evening of bloodshed and chaos. Melina wished she could get her hands on the son of a bitch who was responsible for murdering Matthew Corvi and putting her honeymoon plans with Mac on an indefinite hold. And what about Matthew’s family? Melina was sure the man had a wife and children. Their lives would never be the same and her heart ached for them.
Finishing up the bowl of ice cream a few minutes later, Melina left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen to wash the bowl and put it away. When she was done, she headed down the hallway that lead to the small office Mac kept. Turning on the lights, she looked in the room and noticed that it was impeccably organized, except for the array of papers scattered across the small desk. Curious, Melina walked into the room and picked up the papers. Her eyes scanned over the contents.
“Interesting.”
Apparently, Mac’s new position hadn’t just come with a new title, it had come with some properties as well. A few warehouses, and a dry cleaner’s, among other things. But it was the last paper she held that caught her attention. It was a deed from Luca Pivetti to Mac for a place called The Playpen.
It was a whorehouse.
Melina didn’t need it spelled out for her. Some things you just knew.
A whorehouse previously owned by Mac’s former Capo, Guido, that was apparently hemorrhaging money.
Interested now, Melina took a seat at the desk and poured over all the details relating to The Playpen. It wasn’t long before ideas started to quickly form in her head. Reaching for a blank sheet of paper, she furiously wrote, lost in her thoughts.
“Well, this isn’t how I expected to find my bride on our wedding night.”
Melina jumped at the sound of Mac’s voice. Turning around she smiled at him as he leaned against the door way.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed. What has you so engrossed that you’re here in my office and not waiting for me in bed?”
Melina glanced at the clock before she answered. “Well, considering it’s after one in the morning and you’re just now coming home, I think I should be the one asking the questions.”
“Is that so?” Mac asked.
Entering the office, he placed both hands on the arms of the chair effectively trapping her.
“Yes,” Melina whispered.
Her pulse raced and she could feel a familiar ache start to build.
“Hmm. Looks like I need to do something to change your mind, then.”
“I’m not easily moved,” Melina said.
Mac raised a brow. “We’ll see about that.”
Before Melina could read his intentions, Mac was lifting her out of her chair, pushing the papers off the desk and laying her on the flat surface. Her breath quickened as he reached for her gown. There was a hunger in his eyes that excited her. Leaning over her, Mac kissed her slowly as if he had all the time in the world. Heat started to build in her belly as he kissed her. Melina tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he deftly evaded her grasp, chuckling.
Pulling away, Mac reached for the hem of the black, silk spaghetti-strapped nightgown she wore and eased it up her thighs. The pads of his fingers ghosted over her skin, touching just enough to make her want more. Mac watched her with darkened eyes as he inched the gown up further and further. When the gown eased past her hip bone, Mac groaned.
“Fuck.”
“Guess I was waiting for you after all,” she whispered.
Mac parted her thighs and rubbed her clit slowly. “Thank God you were.”
He eased a finger inside her as he continued working her clit. Her thighs opened wider as Mac stroked her. The flames of desire continued to build as his strong, nimble fingers touched every aching part inside of her.
“Mac.”
“Shh,” he whispered.
And then he lowered his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue. Melina arched off the desk, pressing herself eagerly against his torturing mouth. He licked her clit slowly with the tip of his tongue before sucking softly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Every touch made her desire burn for him hotter and hotter. When he scraped his teeth over her clit, Melina came hard and fast. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as the orgasm rocked her body.
“Oh my God.”
Melina’s arms fell limply to her side as her husband stood to his full height and gave her one of his trademark grins.
“God had nothing to do with it, doll.”
Mac easily maneuvered Melina so that she was sitting on the edge of the desk.
“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah, but that’s one of the reasons you love me.”
“Is it? I didn’t know being a smart ass was on the list of loveable qualities,” Melina teased.
Mac laughed. “And the pot calls the kettle black. Wife, what am I going to do with you?”
Melina looked into Mac’s eyes, beautiful hazel pools. She would never get tired of looking at him, of appreciating his masculine beauty. Emotion lodged deep in her throat.
“Love me.”
Mac cupped her face gently. “Always.”
He kissed her lips softly before he pulled away. Melina’s eyes traveled to the telling bulge in her husband’s pants and she rubbed him softly.
“How about me returning the favor?” She licked her lips.
“We have plenty of time for that and other delights, but first I want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For us missing our honeymoon.”
“Mac, you had nothing to do with that. It’s not like you could have predicted someone would commit murder at our wedding reception or that we’d all be dragged down to the police station.”
“I know, but you and I should be in Barbados. You, running across the sand in a string-bikini or dripping wet from the water as we fuck on a beach. I wanted all that for you, Melina.”
“We have a whole lifetime for that,” she assured him.
“You’re being very understanding.”
“Isn’t that what a good wife is supposed to do? Besides, I knew that when I married you our life together was going to be unpredictable.”
“Tonight was more unpredictable than anything I could’ve imagined.”
“You’ll get no disagreements from me about that one.”
Mac ran his hands from her shoulders down the length of her arms. “You’re not going to ask me anything?”
Melina shook her head. “No. If there’s something you can tell me or you want to tell me, you will.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed briefly. “No one was expecting this and we have no idea who would be bold enough to kill the consigliere of a boss of Luca’s status.”
Melina was quiet for a minute before she spoke. “Someone with nothing left to lose or someone with a potential for gain. I’d start there.”
“Perceptive and beautiful. You never cease to amaze me, doll.”
“I’m glad you appreciate it. Now there is something I would like to talk about.”