Madame Moll (Gun Moll Book 3)

by Bethany-Kris

Melina held Marquise up in front of her and kissed his nose. The smile on his face hit her straight in the heart. It was love, light, and heaven all wrapped in one. He reached for her, and she pulled him into her arms, fondling his curls as she breathed in his soft, baby scent.

  “Doll, you act like we were gone a week or something,” Mac teased.

  “Shut it, Maccari.”

  Sitting beside her on the couch, Victoria laughed. “I guess she told you, buddy.”

  Mac shook his head. “Don’t encourage her, Vic. You two always gang up on me when you get together.”

  “What can I say? It’s what sisters do,” Victoria said.

  “God bless you, Skip,” Enric said.

  Melina watched as Victoria’s eyes narrowed on the bodyguard. “Just when I was beginning to like you.”

  Enric folded his arms. “You still like me.”

  “Whatever,” Victoria huffed.

  Mac muttered something under his breath before he came over and took Marquise from Melina. A wide smile curved his face as their son grabbed Mac’s thumb and put it in his mouth. Melina couldn’t help laughing as Marquise sucked noisily.

  “I missed you too, little guy. I heard you were giving Aunt Vic and Uncle Enric a fit this morning.”

  Marquise seemed to frown at his father’s words.

  “Okay. Maybe my information was wrong,” Mac said.

  Marquise released Mac’s thumb and cooed at his father. The sight of them together was everything to Melina. The sheer bliss on her husband’s face every time he held the angel they’d created. Yes. Moments like this were worth any battles they had yet to face.

  “We’d better get going, Skip,” Enric said in a quiet tone.

  Mac frowned at the young man, a subtle droop in his shoulders as he gave Marquise back to Melina.

  “I’ll be back soon, doll.”

  He kissed her hard, before pressing a soft kiss on the top of Marquise’s head. A few minutes later, she and Victoria were alone. Her son nestled into her arms, pressing his face into her chest. Soon he was asleep.

  “So … wanna talk about it?” Victoria asked.

  “About what?”

  “Whatever is bothering you, I guess? Both you and my brother are trying to hide it, but you’re both tense as hell.”

  “No point in crying over things you can’t change, Victoria. Besides, why don’t we talk about you and Enric?”

  Her sister-in-law rolled her eyes. “What’s to talk about? Just when I think he’s not so insufferable, he opens his mouth and ruins my delusion.”

  “You should be used to cocky Italians by now.”

  “Yeah, right. Enric is a special breed of cocky.”

  “Yes. A special breed. Don’t overlook that.”

  Victoria folded her arms. “Meaning what? I hope you’re not saying what I think you are.”

  “Yes, I am. There’s something between you and Enric. I for one would like to see it play out. I think secretly you do, too.”

  “You’re playing matchmaker now? Jesus. This is where I make my exit.”

  Melina smirked as Victoria kissed Marquise’s cheek and got to her feet.

  “We all deserve a little happiness in this messed up world we live in.” Melina got to her feet to walk Victoria out.

  “I think being married to my brother is making you soft, Melina. What happened to the hellcat I first met?”

  “She’s still here. I just save her for special occasions.”

  “I hear you. Give me a ring next time you want to hang out or have me babysit. Baby sugar works magic on your mood, let me tell you.”

  “It sure does. I’ll call you soon.”

  The two women said their goodbyes, and Melina relocked the door behind Victoria. Marquise was still sound asleep in her arms. Smiling to herself, she carried her son into her bedroom and laid him gently down in the middle of her and Mac’s bed. There was no real reason Marquise couldn’t have been put in his crib, except she wanted to watch him sleep. She’d only been away from him a single night, but the depths of which she’d missed her baby surprised even her. Would it always be like this? A bond so strong that you hated to be away from them if you didn’t have to.

  Melina touched one of Marquise’s soft curls. He was growing so fast. Every day it seemed he was reaching some new milestone. She knew there would never be a day when something about her son didn’t fascinate her. All that mattered was making sure that there would be more days ahead for him. For all of them. Victoria had been too perceptive for her own good, but there were just some things that she couldn’t talk about.

  Enzo’s death was one of them.

  Though the man had held a grudge against Mac, she hadn’t felt about him one way or another. That didn’t make his death any less shocking. The Pivetti Organization was crumbling rapidly. Luca was one of the few good men left standing and with a very real prison sentence looming in front of him. He was the last domino that needed to fall before a complete takeover happened.

  The jackals were already waiting to pick over the scraps.

  Speaking of jackals, easing herself carefully from the bed so as not to wake up her son, Melina left the room and went back into the living room. Locating her purse, she reached inside and removed her cellphone, quickly dialing a now familiar number. She was almost ready to end the call, when the other line was finally picked up.

  “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

  “Really? And why is that?” Melina asked.

  “Let’s just say a particular someone is saying some very interesting things,” Erika said.

  “You mean your good friend, Anthony.”

  “Of course. Who else?”

  Melina held the phone tight to her ear. “Tell me what you know.”

  “We spent some time together a few days ago, and he told me change was in the air. Naturally, I didn’t pay much attention to that because it was such a broad statement. But then he said it wouldn’t matter when a king falls because a new ruler is already in place.”

  Melina chewed her lip for a moment. She knew exactly what Anthony was referring to, but she decided to play along a little further. “That’s still a little cryptic.”

  “Yeah, it is. But then he said that there was only room for fresh blood now, and those that think they’re untouchable are about to find out that they’re not,” Erika said.

  “It sounds to me like Anthony wants to hear himself speak and pump himself up a little bit in the process. No doubt he’s trying to impress you.” She wandered back into the bedroom where Marquise was still sleeping soundly.

  “He definitely does that, but I think there’s more to it this time. Anthony said if I stick with him a little longer, it will be well worth my while.”

  Melina was silent a moment as she digested what Erika had just told her. Anthony Corelli was an interesting individual.

  An individual about to make a move.

  A big one.

  She could only imagine what it could be.

  “I guess all we can do is keep our eyes open and see if Anthony’s bark leads to bites.”

  Erika laughed. “That’s an interesting way of putting things.”

  “Indeed. I’ll be in touch. Keep up the good work.”

  “Will do, Boss Lady.”

  Melina ended the call and put her phone on the nightstand before she crawled back into bed, and rested next to her son.

  A coup was in the making, and Anthony was leading it.

  She wasn’t surprised. Not in the least. Anthony was one of those men that was never satisfied with what he had. He always had to be greedy, reaching for more, determined to destroy anyone in his path that threatened his self-involved plans. He was like a shark swimming towards bleeding prey.

  That made him dangerous.

  A war was coming.

  God help them all.

  Mac had been unusually tight lipped in the days since they’d returned from their evening out. She’d tried several times to bring him out of it. Nothin
g seemed to be working. Even when he spent time with Marquise, the smiles he gave their son didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was as if Mac was there but he wasn’t. She knew it hadn’t helped matters that she’d shared the latest Erika had garnered from Anthony.

  She had her proof when Mac nearly punched a hole through the wall of their bedroom. He had no idea that she’d seen him. Something was very wrong.

  Her husband, who usually was one of the most collected men she’d ever met, had lost his cool. It was a defining moment to her.

  A moment she didn’t want a repeat of.

  She sat beside him now as their limousine pulled up to the church. They were attending another funeral.

  Enzo’s.

  Regardless of the animosity between Mac and Enzo, her husband had still given the man the respect he was entitled to as underboss. Despite the fact that Mac had to kill Enzo’s son for the betrayal that lead to a whole host of other problems, he was still putting his own feelings aside to show respect one last time. It was one of the qualities she both admired and loved about her husband. It was also one of the qualities that could quietly infuriate her.

  “Mac?”

  “Yeah.”

  She faced him and took his hand. “I need you to do something for me.”

  His expression was blank. “What?”

  “I need you to remember that Marquise and I love you, no matter what.”

  Mac frowned. “I know that.”

  “Then act like it.” Her tone was steely, more than she intended.

  “Everything I do is for you and our son. You know that.”

  “I know. Just don’t forget that all we really need is you in the process.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean, Melina?”

  “It means I have no idea what kind of stress you’re under, or the depths of the danger you’re protecting us from, but stop taking that stress out on me and your son.”

  She offered him a tight smile before she exited the limousine. Melina didn’t like fighting with Mac. They were a team, facing whatever the world decided to throw at them. They couldn’t have division between them. But sometimes the hard truths needed to be said. She’d barely taken a breath before Mac was at her side, taking a hold of her arm.

  “You and Marquise are everything to me.” His voice was even but his jaw was tight.

  “I know.”

  “Then I admit to being at a loss.”

  Melina caught her husband’s eye and for the first time the words she’d said to him gave her pause. Weariness and sadness colored his face. Things had to end and soon for all their sakes. In the meantime, he needed her to do what she did best … be his partner. Uncaring of anyone that might see them, she leaned close and kissed Mac. He didn’t hesitate to return the kiss and the force of it rocked her to her core.

  Passion.

  Excitement.

  Love.

  It was exactly what both of them needed.

  It always would be.

  When Mac finally pulled away, the hint of a smile played on his face. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  “For explaining things as only you could. I understand now.”

  “Then my work is done.”

  “Mine is only just beginning, doll.”

  Feeling a lightness that she hadn’t in days, Melina allowed Mac to help her up the stairs that would lead them inside the massive church. A throng of people passed them, some nodding politely at her husband. Others seemed to do their best to avoid his gaze. Saying the atmosphere was tense was an understatement. As they took their seats, Melina steeled herself. Sitting directly across from them was Anthony Corelli. He made no effort to hide his interest in their arrival.

  “Looks like my biggest fan is here,” Melina whispered.

  “Vultures love to circle at times like this.”

  “King Buzzard over there could look a little less obvious.”

  “King Buzzard?” Mac tried to smother his laughter.

  “Well, it fits.”

  Before Mac could say anything else the service began. They held hands as the priest conducted the service. Melina could only wonder how many of these they would have to sit through. How many more families would be destroyed for the sake of greed and power? Melina blinked back tears when Enzo’s widow approached his coffin at the middle of the service.

  The priest stopped momentarily, distracted, and concerned. Though Madeline had said her goodbyes already, it was as if she was a woman possessed now. There weren’t words adequate enough to describe the look of sorrow on her face. To lose her only son and then her husband. It was a grief that no one should ever have to experience. The service continued, and Madeline continued to stand in front of Enzo’s coffin.

  And then grief won.

  A cascade of tears poured down her cheeks as her sobs filled the church. The priest stopped, ready to comfort her, but was quickly waved away by none other than Neeya Pivetti. Melina watched curiously as Neeya went to Madeline, and helped the grieving woman back to her seat. Melina exchanged a glance with her husband. Mac seemed as surprised as she was to see the Pivetti Don’s wife today.

  Soon the eulogy was over, and Enzo’s coffin was closed for the final time as pallbearers carried him from the church. Still crying, Madeline rose to follow behind her husband’s coffin. Her cheeks were still tearstained, but there was a hardness in her eyes. A hollowness. After today, Madeline would never be the same. Melina’s heart broke all over again. She squeezed Mac’s hand tight.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Not by a long shot.”

  “This won’t be us. Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do, I won’t let our life be destroyed.”

  “No one can predict the future, Mac, but I have absolute faith in you.”

  “And that means everything, doll.”

  Slowly the church started to clear, and Mac and Melina followed the departing crowd. Once outside, she glanced around the thinning crowd and spotted Neeya walking down the steps, and towards the sidewalk where cars waited to take the mourners away from the church.

  “Neeya,” Melina yelled.

  The woman continued on as if she hadn’t heard Melina.

  “We should get going,” Mac said.

  “Yeah, we should.”

  Feeling a bit miffed, Melina watched as Neeya was helped into the back of a white limousine. The chauffeur closed the door for her, and a minute later the car was driving away. Mac and Melina had just reached their own waiting vehicle when a fireball erupted. Before Melina could react, Mac was pushing her inside the car.

  “Stay down, doll.”

  Melina didn’t dare move as car alarms went off.

  Soon, screams filled the air and a thick, smoky odor filled her senses.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  Ignoring her husband’s instruction, Melina lifted her head and looked out the back passenger window.

  Blood rushed in her ears.

  She refused to believe what she was seeing.

  Flames engulfed a white limousine.

  A white limousine that had only departed moments ago.

  A white limousine carrying Neeya Pivetti.

  The screams were deafening, but it was nothing compared to the noise level of the blast. Tires squealed, and Mac saw a black car speed out of the parking lot, followed shortly after by several others—people wanting to get away. Most were scrambling like rats, crouched low against vehicles or scattering on all fours, rushing to their waiting vehicles.

  Mac reached for his wife to keep her right where she was. He didn’t want her moving an inch, just in case the limo wasn’t the only car with a planted bomb waiting to blow. An enforcer was always placed at his vehicle to watch it, so he wasn’t worried about theirs blowing the hell up.

  “Mac,” he heard Melina say.

  So faint.

  So unsure.

  Mac couldn’t move, let alone respond to Melina. He was frozen in plac
e, stuck watching the flames engulfing the now unmoving limo, and the black plume of smoke rising higher towards the sky. A part of his brain understood what he was seeing, but another part couldn’t process what it all meant.

  Or maybe he didn’t want to process it.

  Oh, he surely understood the bomb the very second it happened. The blast damn near pushed him to the ground, but now, it was almost like his mind was trying to backtrack and forget.

  No, maybe not forget.

  Refuse.

  Refuse what he saw.

  Refuse what just happened.

  Refuse what it would mean.

  A made man’s wife had been in that limo. The boss’s wife. Luca’s wife.

  “Neeya,” Melina mumbled from inside the vehicle.

  Mac wondered if his wife could read his thoughts, though he knew how stupid that was. Melina was simply voicing her own shock and pain to a frightening reality. Her friend—one of the few his wife actually had in this dangerous life of theirs—had been inside that limo. A bomb of that magnitude was not survivable.

  His thoughts flew back to his boss instantly in that moment.

  Luca.

  How would he tell Luca?

  “Ma!”

  “Mother!”

  “Ma!”

  Mac was brought back to reality with a bang. And by the horrified, agonized shouts of three young women bursting through the dispersing crowd.

  Beautiful girls who looked like both their mother and father. Respected daughters of a Cosa Nostra boss and his wife.

  Rose.

  Hope.

  Lora.

  Pivetti girls. Pivetti daughters.

  Twenty-two.

  Twenty.

  Eighteen years young.

  They had still lived at home with their parents. The oldest two attended college while the youngest had recently graduated from a private high school.

  Frantic.

  Terrified.

  Lost.

  Each one of the Pivetti girls took on those expressions. They were pulled back—fighting and screaming the whole way—by family before they could get any closer to the danger of the burning limo.

  To their mother …

  “My God,” Melina whispered.

  “I didn’t see the girls earlier,” Mac managed to say.