Gangster Moll (Gun Moll Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

“You really know what I like.”

  “I’m your husband. I’m supposed to. Now, if you don’t hurry up and put that dress on we’re going to be late.”

  Holding the dress up in front of her, Melina smiled at her husband.

  “And why would we be late?”

  “Because I’m a half second away from throwing you down on the bed and fucking you for at least another hour,” Mac said.

  “How can you not be tired?”

  Mac came over to where she stood and cupped her chin in his hand. “I’m never too tired to love you properly.”

  Then he winked and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to get dressed. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, Melina unzipped the back of the dress and stepped into it easily.

  “All right, zip me up.”

  Melina waited as Mac zipped up the dress and pressed a soft kiss to her nape.

  “Perfection,” he said.

  “You think so?” Melina asked.

  She admired herself in the mirror. Though she had a special love for bodycon dresses, there was nothing wrong with trying something a little different every now and then. Mac had chosen for her a dark purple cocktail dress. Two straps crossed her right shoulder and there was a strategic cut out just above her cleavage. The soft silk of the material clung to her body and ended just below her knees. She looked the part of hostess at an exclusive event, especially with her hair styled in an elegant updo.

  “I know so. Go on. Admit you like it.”

  “Of course I like it. Thank you for the dress.”

  “My pleasure. Now why don’t you slip on those Prada spiked heels I like so much and we can get out of here,” Mac said.

  Melina faced her husband and smiled, “You and those heels.”

  Mac shrugged as she went into the closet. “What can I say? Spikes turn me on.”

  “Is there anything that doesn’t turn you on?” Melina asked.

  She sat down on the bed and strapped on her spiked heels.

  “That was a low blow, doll. I’m a peculiar sort of man.”

  Heels on, Melina stood and touched the cross that hung around her neck. Since Mac had given it to her on that fateful night, she’d done her best to never take it off. The simple cross was a subtle reminder that strength sometimes came from unexpected places.

  “Yes, you are and I’ll always love you for that.”

  Mac brushed his fingers over the cross. “You nervous?”

  “Just a little bit,” Melina confessed.

  “No worries. Tonight is going to be a success. We have nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Now let’s go, Cinderella. Your chariot awaits.”

  Melina couldn’t contain her laughter as Mac took her hand and lead her from the room. Cinderella indeed.

  “You mean my carriage awaits?”

  “Yeah.”

  Melina smiled. Her husband was something else. With Mac, the surprises never stopped coming.

  The Dollhouse was filled with people. Melina could only help but wonder how word had gotten out to so many people about the grand opening. It wasn’t exactly like she’d been able to advertise the grand opening through some of the normal channels for a business opening. Especially a business like The Dollhouse. But somehow or another, it seemed that the night was off to a roaring success.

  Unsurprisingly, the number of men far outnumbered the woman in attendance. After all, sex was something that would always sell, whether it was explicitly advertised or not. Standing near one of the large bars, Melina surveyed the crowd again. She’d noticed more than one of her girls discretely slip away with a well-clothed gentlemen. Tossing them a subtle nod as they’d disappeared, Melina was mentally counting the money that would be made this evening, not only from the bar but with the girls as well.

  “Champagne?” a passing waiter asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  Melina took a glass from the tray and took two long sips of the cold bubbly, liquid.

  “Melina, there you are, dear.”

  She turned when she heard her name called. Melina nearly choked on her champagne.

  “Neeya?”

  The tall, elegant woman wrapped Melina in a warm hug. “Why the surprise?”

  “This is not the sort of place I would expect a Don’s wife to be.”

  Neeya laughed. “This is a completely different establishment than it was before. You’ve done wonders here. Why wouldn’t I be here to support you?”

  “Again. You know what kind of place this is,” Melina reiterated.

  “Nonsense. I couldn’t be prouder. I knew from the first time we met you would turn things on their heads and you have done exactly that.”

  “I just hope I haven’t pushed things too much with this place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m supposed to be the quiet little wife, not running a business. I don’t want this to reflect negatively on my husband.”

  “There will always be those who have something to say, but they don’t matter. If anything, you are proving to everyone that you are your husband’s equal in every way.”

  Melina fingered her necklace absentmindedly. “That’s all I want to be. An enhancement to Mac, not a detriment.”

  Neeya grabbed her shoulders. “You are. Now enough of this self-doubt. Let’s toast to a profitable new venture.”

  “I’ll second that notion.”

  Luca Pivetti eased next to his wife while motioning for a waiter.

  “Thank you,” Melina said. “This is unexpected.”

  “It shouldn’t be. This place was bleeding money and now it will be raking it in. A smart man can appreciate business savvy, no matter who it comes from.”

  “You couldn’t be more right, boss.”

  Mac appeared, sliding an arm around Melina’s waist as the waiter came over with drinks. He, Luca and Neeya each took a new flute of champagne. Melina drained the rest of her glass and took a new flute as well.

  “A toast to my beautiful, hardworking, ambitious wife and a stellar opening night.”

  Mac raised his glass.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Neeya said.

  Luca gave a rare smile before raising his own glass. Melina followed suit and breathed a sigh of relief. Her worries had been for nothing. If Luca Pivetti had given the okay to The Dollhouse, then things were going to be fine. She wasn’t breaking some unwritten mob rule. She wasn’t shaming her husband. She was just a business owner.

  The four of them enjoyed their glasses of champagne and made small talk before Melina was motioned over to the bar by one of the bartenders. Excusing herself, she headed behind the counter and then stopped in her tracks.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  Melina’s blood froze in her veins.

  She’d know that sound anywhere.

  Gunfire.

  The Dollhouse descended into chaos. People were running everywhere. Half-naked men and women emerged from the private corners of the club. Shattering glass mixed with the sounds of gunfire. Melina turned, eyes searching the crowd for her husband. Her heart rate increased when she couldn’t spot him the crowd.

  “Mac! Mac!”

  Before she could yell again, he was at her side.

  “I’ve got you, doll.”

  Pulling his gun from his waistband, Mac grabbed her hand and navigated them through the maze of people rushing to the front of the club. Melina looked for Neeya Pivetti in the crowd but spotting one person in the mass of people was impossible. Melina held tight to her husband’s hand as one of the back door entrances to the club finally came into view. Flinging the door open, Mac went through first, gun raised before he pulled Melina behind him.

  Descending the concrete stairs that led down, Melina scarcely dared to breathe as she followed her husband down the alley. In the distance, sirens could be heard. Damn. No doubt the cops were already on their way. When Mac abruptly stopped, Melina cr
ashed into his back.

  “Mac?”

  “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  Before Melina could react, he was half dragging her out of the alley and toward a side street behind a neighboring building. But Mac wasn’t fast enough. As they ran, Melina saw what had captured her husband’s rapt attention.

  A man lay in the alley. What had once been his face was unrecognizable.

  Holy fuck.

  Death had found them once again.

  Melina knew that one way or another, the storm they thought they’d been facing was about to get worse.

  Much, much worse.

  “No comment,” Mac said to Melina. “That is always your response, doll.”

  Melina gave him a look from the side, questioning and exhausted at the same time. “Is that—”

  Another knock on the apartment door interrupted her question.

  Mac wanted to reassure his wife as much as he could before he opened the door. He wanted to tell her things were perfectly fine and that it would all be figured out without any sort of trouble.

  He’d be lying.

  Mac didn’t want to lie to his wife.

  He didn’t know what the fuck was going on. He didn’t know why yet another person was killed at an event that had been planned around something he and his wife had done. He’d gotten Melina out of there the night before, only because he didn’t want police backlash on her during business hours, and he figured it was a buffer zone between Melina and the activities going on inside the place.

  Just in case …

  However, they couldn’t stick their heads in the sand forever.

  Luca had already called. He wanted a meeting—soon. Another Capo had called, confirming Mac’s suspicions that the police had been all over The Dollhouse the night before. Enric also called, thankfully with the news that no one was arrested.

  The body, on the other hand, had been identified, according to Enric.

  Luca Pivetti’s new lawyer, hired after Matthew had been killed, Kyle Reeves.

  Mac didn’t know why the lawyer had been at the club, never mind in the back alley, but apparently, he had been and that’s where he’d ended up dead.

  The who, why, and what were still the questions of the hour.

  “Answer the door, Mac,” Melina said softly.

  Mac blinked out of his daze, losing his thoughts in the process. He could plainly hear the police detectives behind the front door announcing their presence and asking if anyone was home. He should have ignored them, but he knew it wouldn’t do him any damn good. If not today, they would be questioning them tomorrow.

  He wanted to make sure that fucking no one questioned his wife when he or a lawyer wasn’t present. It was her business, so there was no doubt they would come for her.

  Finally, Mac pulled the door open. He faced two familiar police detectives, the same ones that had questioned him the night of his wedding. That in itself, just seeing their snide smiles, was more than enough to make Mac’s blood boil.

  He almost slammed the door right in their faces.

  Melina’s hand curving around his shoulder was the only thing that stopped him.

  “Mr. Maccari, beautiful morning, isn’t it?” the shorter of the two asked.

  Both men flashed their badges, not that they needed to. The stench of cop was as clear as day, even if Mac hadn’t recognized them.

  Mac’s jaw clenched involuntarily. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “May we come in?” the other one asked. “We have a few questions about the incident last night at your wife’s establishment.”

  “Say what you mean,” Mac replied coolly. “You want to speak with my wife because she owns the joint.”

  “And you, too.”

  Fucking wonderful.

  “Mac,” Melina said behind him, soft and sweet, “let’s just get it over with.”

  “Make it quick,” Mac said, stepping back to allow the detectives into the apartment. “I have somewhere to be.”

  “Ah, yes,” the tallest detective said, moving inside like he owned the place. That probably pissed Mac off the most, if he was honest. “Luca’s let out the war cry this morning, hasn’t he? Time to gather all of his little soldiers so he feels a tad safer on the streets.”

  Mac hesitated, grip tightening around the edge of the door as he took in the detective’s words. Melina seemed oblivious to the blatant statement that essentially admitted the cop had inside knowledge of Luca’s orders. Something no one outside of the men in the family should know.

  Already, the detectives had moved onto questioning Melina about the club and the events of the night before. Mac stayed quiet through it all, only speaking when spoken directly to, and answering as vaguely as he could. Melina did the same.

  They’d practiced this.

  Talked about it all.

  She knew what to say.

  Mac was still on the detective’s statement.

  He knew Luca had put out an order.

  That only meant one thing.

  La famiglia had a rat.

  Mac ignored the stares as he strolled into Luca’s library, trying to appear as unbothered as he possibly could be, given the situation. It was never good to let another made man see that you were concerned about something, even if it was widely known they were all concerned about the same thing.

  The fear of the unknown would always be better.

  “Great of you to finally join us,” Luca said, a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Detectives,” Mac said in explanation.

  He didn’t offer more; his words were more than enough to get the point across.

  Luca’s lips curled up at the edge, showcasing his teeth biting into the end of the cigar with enough force to mark the tan, tapered end with indents of his bites. He looked as though he’d smelled something bad all of the sudden.

  “And?” the boss asked.

  More than a dozen pairs of eyes landed on Mac, all questioning at the same time.

  “And nothing, they’re gone.”

  Enzo scoffed from his seat at the window bench. “The bastards will be back.”

  Probably.

  Mac wasn’t concerned about that at the moment. There was bigger fish to fry.

  “Who else had a face to face with the police last night or today?” Luca asked the men in the room.

  Hands flew up. Murmurs passed around, confirming they too had been approached. Luca’s face grew progressively redder with each person who admitted they had needed to talk to police.

  “Cazzo. They’re gonna put us in the ground,” Luca said, more to himself than the room.

  Nonetheless, Mac knew every man had heard it. Especially as they had all turned into stone statues of themselves.

  Mac understood the boss’s frustrations, and the men’s hesitance. Having police attention was never on Cosa Nostra’s high list of priorities. It was better to keep officials looking away from you rather than focusing in on only you.

  At the moment, it seemed like every cop in New York was all up in Pivetti business in one way or another.

  That was bad all over.

  “Why don’t we address the real elephant in the room?”

  The question came from the corner. It’d been posed quietly, and nothing else was offered from the stoic Capo that sat on one of the many leather chairs against the wall.

  Anthony Corelli.

  “What elephant is that?” Luca asked.

  Without missing a single beat, Anthony tipped the drink in his hand toward Mac and said, “The one standing right in front of you.”

  Irritation and stress tightened Mac’s shoulders. God knew he had enough bullshit going on and things he needed to handle without adding Anthony to the pile. The Capo was always looking for a reason to give Mac hell. This wasn’t even a surprise.

  Luca leaned forward on the edge of his desk, his fingers drumming against hardwood as a billow of smoke clouded his features from the cigar. “Explain yourself, Anthony.
”

  “Two separate incidents. Two men dead. Both close to you, boss.” Anthony shrugged. “Seems kind of obvious.”

  Luca’s face lost all emotion, turning blank as slate. “Then I must be the only one with ‘Idiot’ tattooed across my forehead, because I’m not understanding what you’re implying. Explain, or get the fuck out.”

  Anthony’s gaze turned on Mac, cold and violent. “I’m not the only one who thinks it, boss. I’m just might be the only one that’ll say it, though. Seems whenever Mac and his wife have something going on, someone shows up dead. It’s a little strange is all. He’s like a bad luck charm—that, or it’s just … coincidence.”

  Mac schooled his features, refusing to let Anthony’s statement get under his skin. “Is that so?”

  Luca stayed quiet, his stare passing between the two men.

  “Well,” Anthony drawled with a smile, “you know what we say about coincidences, Mac. In this life, they don’t exist. You’re two for two. What does that tell you?”

  Mac didn’t give Anthony a response, knowing it wouldn’t do him any real good to argue with the older Capo. He had been listening, however, and Mac had to wonder how much of what Anthony said was true. Were there other Capos that were blaming Mac for these issues? Were they assuming it was connected to him?

  Was it all because of him?

  The stillness in the room—the quietness of the men surrounding him—told Mac that it was very possible their suspicions were being placed at his feet.

  “It is odd,” Luca finally said to Mac. “You have to admit that much.”

  “I think we have bigger problems,” Mac replied.

  Luca seemed even less impressed than before. “Oh? Do tell. What other problems do we have that need attention as much as my men being slaughtered?”

  All eyes turned on Mac again.

  He focused on the boss instead of the men.

  Luca was the most important one in the room. If Mac’s suspicions were right about the police having a rat in their family, it could be anyone sitting in that office.

  But it wouldn’t be Luca.

  And it sure as fuck wasn’t Mac.

  “One of the detectives that showed up to question my wife this morning said something,” Mac started to say, carefully choosing his words as he went along. “Somehow he knew that you’d put out a very specific order for the men in the family to be here today.”