Gun Moll (31 page)

“Hmm.”

Melina’s gaze fell
on the box in Mac’s hands.

He shook it. “He
sent something for you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, but
it’s rude to refuse the gifts of made men. I assume whatever it is, he must
want you to have it for the fighting event tonight. Come open it up.”

Mac was less than
impressed that another man was buying his girl gifts. Melina wasn’t a quiet,
easily-pleased woman. If she wanted something, she would let Mac know, and he
would get it for her.

Other men didn’t
need to be buying her fuck-all.

She wasn’t theirs
to spoil.

She was
his
.

“Stop the
scowling,” Melina said as she walked up and took the box from his hands.
“You’re practically turning green, Mac. You know I think Anthony is a pig.”

He did.

It still didn’t
help.

Mac followed
Melina into the living room, still silent and scowling, despite her demand for
him to stop. She put the box on the couch, and pulled at the red ribbon keeping
it closed. Once she had that tugged away, she lifted the lid and tossed it
aside.

“Oh, wow,” Melina
said, pulling the tissue away from the top of the long box.

Even Mac was a bit
surprised at the item resting beneath the tissue paper.

“Is that …?”

“Touch it and see,”
Mac said. “It’ll feel like air on your fingers.”

Melina reached
into the box and ran her hand over the gray-and-white-colored fur coat. It was
long enough that it would fall to her knees, with an overly large hood and wide
arms. It was a beautiful piece of clothing, to be sure, but Mac didn’t even
know if Melina was into furs. It was common for the women of made men to sport
all different kinds of furs, despite how society liked to shame people who
collected the rare coats, hats, and so forth.

The coat had to be
in the thousands of dollars, at least.

Mac’s gut burned a
little hotter with his anger.

A gift of this
magnitude, of this sort of flash, was not acceptable. It was almost like a
blatant offer from Anthony to Melina.

“So soft you can’t
even feel it,” Melina said, running her hand down the coat again. “I’m not … a
fur kind of girl, Mac.”

“Is there a note?”
Mac asked.

Melina moved the
coat around, and found a folded up piece of parchment paper beneath it. Opening
it up, she read, “Melina, I hope you’ll enjoy this gift and put it to good use
tonight as you stand in the crowd. Chinchilla is the softest of the furs, and I
thought it would look beautiful with your skin. Until tonight … Anthony
Corelli.”

She tossed the
note away like it had burned her hand.

Mac’s jaw
clenched. “He’s a bastard.”

“Am I the only one
who feels like that was a proposition of some sort?”

“Without outright
asking? Yeah, sort of.”

Melina frowned as
she turned on her heel to face him. “Don’t do that, Mac.”

“I’m not worried …
or whatever. But I don’t trust Anthony a great deal right now.”

“You don’t trust
anyone right now,” she corrected.

“I wonder why,
doll.” Mac sighed heavily. “You’re going to have to wear the coat, at least to
keep his attitude at a bearable level for the evening.”

“Is he going to
expect something for it in return?” she asked.

“No. That would
come after you had already accepted his proposition. This is basically him
telling you to look at the kinds of beautiful things he could give you.”

And it made Mac
fucking sick.

And
angry
.

Fuck, he was mad.

“Don’t do that,”
Melina repeated, quieter the second time.

His girl knew him
too well.

Mac was damn good
at hiding his emotions when he wanted to, but not where Melina was concerned.
He was going to have to learn how to curb his instinct to react whenever she
was involved, or he was going to find himself in a grave before it was his
time.

“It’s not you,
doll,” he said.

Melina nodded, her
hand coming up to stroke his tight jaw. “Put that anger to use, yeah?”

Mac smiled, unable
to stop himself. “Pardon?”

“Tonight, when
you’re fighting. Focus what you’re feeling right now into something good. I do
not want to spend my night in an ER after pulling you out of a cage, Mac.”

There was a
shining worry glimmering in Melina’s eye. Mac couldn’t miss it even if he
tried.

“I’ll be fine,” he
assured.

Melina didn’t
respond.

Mac hoped he was
telling the truth, but he really didn’t know.

“Three fights,
total,” Anthony said. “Spread out, so you’ll have a bit of a break. I just confirmed
your register.”

Mac didn’t show
the nervousness that slipped through his bloodstream at Anthony’s statement.
One fight was nothing. Two was pushing it, but was doable. Mac would be
exhausted and overworked after the second, and not up for a third round, but obviously,
he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

It didn’t help
that he had been far too busy lately to keep up with his usual workout regime.
He hadn’t even been able to have a good round of sparring to prep for this. He
wasn’t out of shape, as far as that went, but he might be a little rusty and
out of practice.

It could still be
bad.

Melina’s hand
tightened around Mac’s arm like she knew what he was thinking. He patted her
hand, wanting to reassure her. If he couldn’t reassure himself, the least he
could do was calm his girl.

“Your gear?”
Anthony asked.

Mac held up a
small black bag. “They checked it at the door.”

There wasn’t much
in the bag but some long shorts, clean clothes, and protective tape for his
fists. Anthony had already let him know the place didn’t allow the usual
protective gear, which meant Mac would essentially be fighting bare-knuckle
with no way to protect his head or mouth, other than his own quickness.

“Thank you for
checking in at the door as a fighter,” Anthony said. “That made things a lot
easier for me.”

Mac shrugged. “I
don’t think they would have let me in otherwise.”

Anthony held out a
rack card, and Mac took it. Looking it over, he found the times of his fights,
and his opponents. Thankfully, the stats of the men were right beside their
names, just like his. His opponents were close to his own height and weight,
which mostly made for a fair fight.

It didn’t, however,
tell Mac their specialties in the cage.

That could be
dangerous.

Anthony glanced
down at his watch. “You have an hour before your first fight.”

So he did.

Melina grabbed
Mac’s arm a little tighter.

“Care to point out
who I’m fighting so I can see their faces?” Mac asked.

Anthony nodded
once, and waved for Mac to follow as he spun on his heel. Mac took the chance
to look over the large warehouse style venue that was being used for the
makeshift fight club. From the outside, the building had almost looked
decrepit. On the inside, it was a great deal nicer with velvet-lined walls,
several bars, tables and leather chairs set up, and red carpeting covering the
floor.

At the back of the
place, Mac noticed a winding, metal staircase that led up to what looked to be
a large space with mirrors for walls. Mirrored walls only meant one
thing—one-way windows. He suspected it was probably an office of sorts. The
money coming in and out of the place was likely kept there, highly protected
and watched all night. Whoever ran the operation had a good view of the floor,
people, and the fights where the office was positioned.

Large, brass
chandeliers hung down from the high ceilings, lighting the place. Servers
wearing black and gray ensembles moved in and around the throng of people
without ever interrupting conversations or making themselves known unless
asked. Melina was not the only woman in the joint wearing a fur coat, never
mind the diamonds glittering on women’s hands, wrists, and around their necks.

In the middle of
the large venue, an octagon cage proudly rested.

Looming, almost.

Mac didn’t wonder
if he had made the right choice by agreeing to this night. He knew he had
without a doubt. He owed Anthony a great deal of money—too much to pay back in
a quick, normal manner.

At any point in
time, Anthony could demand payment from Mac for the debt. And if Mac couldn’t
produce what he owed, then he would be officially fucked and marked for dead.

That’s how it
worked.

Before long, Mac
had walked the entire building with Anthony before the man was able to point
out each of Mac’s three opponents for the night. He distinctly remembered
Anthony telling him that he knew of a place. The Capo hadn’t given the
impression he frequented fights, but given his familiarity with the faces of
fighters, this wasn’t Anthony’s first go round.

As far as his
opponents went, Mac took note of each of them as they were pointed out. All
three were with someone else, kind of like Mac was. It was probably their
sponsor, or boss of sorts. Each, also like him, wore a tailored suit that
didn’t give off the impression that they were a fighter readying for a match.

Not one made Mac
feel nervous.

They weren’t all
that intimidating.

Anthony directed
Mac and Melina back towards the cage with a wave of one hand. At a row of black
tables surrounded by leather chairs, he stopped.

“Let’s have a seat
for a moment,” Anthony suggested.

Mac wasn’t
interested in sitting. His body didn’t need to relax. It had been in that state
for too long as it was.

Still, he pulled
out a seat for Melina. She sat down, and Mac rested his hands to her shoulders
over the fur coat she wore. He ignored the gazes of people as they strolled
past, clearly taking him and Melina in, and probably wondering exactly who they
were.

He suspected that
new faces were a rare thing at these events.

Unless one was a
fighter.

Considering the
people barely passed Anthony a second look, Mac’s assumptions about the Capo
were only further confirmed.

Melina patted
Mac’s hand gently, and his attention was back on her in an instant.

“Well, what do you
think?” Anthony asked as he took a seat across from Melina.

“Three is …
pushing it,” Mac admitted.

Melina made a
noise under her breath. “It’s suicide, Mac.”

Anthony chuckled.
“I’m sure he can pull it off.”

Mac wet his lips,
his fingers tightening around Melina’s shoulders. “I won’t guarantee anything
about the third, so I would suggest that be your lowest bet for the night.”

The Capo rested
back in his chair, tapping a finger to his mouth. “I’ll take it into
consideration. But frankly, I expect you to win.”

Wonderful.

Then, Anthony’s
gaze cut back to Melina. He looked her new coat over, his smile growing into a
more predatory look. “I hadn’t asked earlier, but how did you like my gift,
sweetheart?”

Mac could almost
see Melina’s fake smile when she said, “It was a surprise.”

“Furs are the
dresses of queens.”

He couldn’t stop
himself. “Furs aren’t my girl’s thing, Anthony.”

The Capo’s gaze
jumped to Mac instantly. “She’s wearing one just fine right now, Mac.”

“You know why that
is,” he replied coolly.

Anthony laughed,
seemingly unbothered by Mac’s tone. “You know, my first offer still stands.”

Mac stiffened.

So did Melina
under his hands.

“I can pull the
plug on this whole night,” Anthony said, waving a hand at the cage, “… for a
single night with your woman, Mac.”