Gun Moll (4 page)

Mac beat back the
cringe threatening to form as the girl’s hand roved over his junk once, twice,
and then a third time.

“Searching for
something particular?” he asked when she didn’t remove her hand.

“Just checking,”
she replied sweetly.

Too sweetly.

“Well, if you’re
looking to find something for you, you’re not going to find it in there, babe,”
Mac muttered. “Takes a bit more than a touch to get me hard, girl.”

Slipping his mouth
guard back in place and taking a step away from the girl, he winked. It forced
her hands out of his pants, anyway. And it still gave the crowd some idea that
maybe he liked what she had done with her hand down his shorts, if their loud
cheers were any indication.

“You’re wearing
jewelry,” the girl pointed out. “It’s not allowed.”

His leather
wristband with the M embossed in gold had been his grandfather’s. The cross
around his neck had been a gift from his grandmother. Both had passed when he
was a teen. The two items didn’t come off his person unless someone ripped them
off.

And if that
happened, the fool better make damn sure they were good and gone before Mac got
ahold of them.

Mac cocked a brow.
“The leather wristband has been vetted by the organizer and the necklace is a
personal choice. They’re not coming off or they already would have, before I
stepped into the cage.”

With a scowl, the
girl turned on her heel and stalked to the other side of the cage.

Mac bounced on his
heels as Junior Ferro stepped into his side of the cage. Neither of the men
spent too much time looking one another over, as Ferro was checked in the same
fashion Mac had been. Guessing by the leer on Junior’s face, he liked the
chick’s hand on his dick a lot more than Mac had.

Sloppy, sweaty
palm seconds
.

Maybe that was
Ferro’s thing.

Mac didn’t give a
damn.

“Eleven K,” came a
shout from outside Mac’s side of the cage.

He turned to see
Cordial mouthing the words again.

“Eleven?” Mac
asked, just to be sure.

No way.

That was the
highest payout he’d ever seen from the Ferro fights.

Cordial nodded.
“Eleven K to the winner of the fight. That’s not including the payouts to
everyone else. A record, apparently. Seems someone’s bound and determined for
you to lose, Macky. The largest bet came in on Ferro for you to lose against
him.”

Shit.

Mac’s gaze swept
the crowd quickly, trying to find the stupid fucker in a sea of people that was
bound and determined to see him lose. Almost instantly, he found a pair of
russet eyes meeting his stare closer to the cage than he was expecting.

Melina.

The gorgeously
cold face was still mocking him in the back of his mind.

Her companion
looked smug as fuck with an arm around Melina’s waist as the fool nodded in
Ferro’s direction.

Shined shoes.
Perfectly managed hair. Expensive tux. Silk tie.

Money.

Mac had guessed it
about the guy earlier, but his cocky attitude and arrogant posture practically
screamed it. Growing up like he had, in the thick of the streets with men who
made their living off scheming from fools like Melina’s companion and whoever else
they could fuck over, gave Mac the ability to sniff out easy money.

That fool was easy
money.

Chances were, that
was the idiot who betted against him. Apparently, the guy’s ego was still a
little bit hurt after their encounter from earlier.

Mac caught
Melina’s gaze again as the cage was cleared. She looked surprised to see him in
there. Given that he had been wearing a suit earlier and not the cage look he
sported now, it wasn’t such a surprise.

“Middle!” the ref
shouted.

Why the Ferros even
bothered with having refs in the cage, Mac wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like the
idiots did anything except call the winner. On more than one occasion, Mac had
witnessed the refs ignore just about every dirty move that could be used, even
if it resulted in someone being carried out and shoved in a trunk.

Mac met Junior
Ferro in the middle of the cage. Ferro put his taped fists out and Mac met them
with a bump of his own.

“Clean fight,
boys,” the ref said.

Mac scoffed behind
his mouth guard.

Even Junior
sneered.

The moment the ref
stepped back from the two men, a familiar bell dinged. Junior charged Mac fast
and furious, like a goddamn bull in heat. Quickly, Mac stepped to the right
just before Junior reached him and with a fast step on his heel, Mac swung to
the side with all his body weight, lifted his left foot from the floor and let
his heel connect with the middle of Junior’s chest.

Easy hit.

Junior stumbled
forward like he’d been surprised at the move, sucking in a hard breath of air.
Yeah, a kick to the chest hurt. Placed right, it could break a rib and take a
man’s breath away. Mac wasn’t looking to do serious damage to Junior. There was
no reason to embarrass the guy any more than he already would once he won the
match.

Why hadn’t Cordial
told Mac that Junior liked to charge a guy in the cage?

This fight could
have been over instantly.

Turning fast to
regain his balance from the kick, Mac met the rapid-fire fists of Junior, one
after the other. Using his taped hands and arms as a shield, Mac blocked the
light punches easily.

He favors the
harder hits, rather than several smaller ones.

Well, Cordial
fucked that one up big time.

Seemed like Junior
had either taken up a different style or he was trying to trip Mac up. Just as
Junior dropped back like he wanted more room for a swing, Mac prepped to block
a hit and toss out one of his own.

Instead, his back
met the fucking mat hard.

It took him an
entire second to realize he was on the floor and Ferro was on top of him,
raining quick, unrelenting punches over his head and chest.

Goddamn.

Mac needed to get
out of this, and fast.

Ferro sneered
behind his mouth guard, making damn sure Mac saw it. It was the opening Mac
needed—just that one second of distraction. Mac’s elbow flew up and cracked
Ferro hard under his jaw, sending the man’s head flying backwards. Blood
dripped from a slice in the fool’s bottom lip.

With one swift
kick, Ferro was tossed off Mac.

Being upright had
never felt so good to Mac.

Bouncing on his
heels again, Mac ignored the screaming roar of the crowd and the volcanic noise
around him. If he focused in on that shit, that’s all he would hear.

Those people
weren’t important.

Winning was.

Ferro stood,
pissed and ready to charge again.

Mac let him.

Unlike the first
time, when Mac moved out of the way, he didn’t move this time. Ferro pulled
back for the swing Cordial had warned him about, Mac ducked the hit, and the
southpaw came out to connect with Ferro, right under the right rib with enough
force to crack the bone.

Instantly, Ferro
shouted from the shock of the hit, crumpling in on himself. Mac tossed out two
more hits, each landing to the half-assed protected face of his opponent.

The second Ferro
lifted his head, Mac let his body move with a familiar roundhouse.

It connected to
the side of Ferro’s head with a solid thud.

Junior hit the
mat, out cold.

Mac didn’t wait
for the ref to step in and call it. He knew what it was. A win by knockout.
Stepping back, Mac finally let the overwhelming noise of the crowd seep into
his focused senses. A cage door was opened to let him out.

Cordial was there
to meet Mac with an icepack and a stick of super glue.

“Shit, lemme see
that cut, boy,” Cordial demanded.

Mac blinked,
unsure of what Cordial meant. Then, he felt the drip of something warm and
sticky slide down his cheek. Touching his eyebrow with his taped fist, Mac
winced. Pain ricocheted over his forehead.

“Ouch,” Cordial
muttered.

“Just get it
closed,” Mac mumbled behind his mouth guard.

Cordial tipped
Mac’s head back, wiped the cut with a wet cloth, and then applied the glue.
After ten seconds of holding the cut closed, Cordial let it go.

“Blink for me.”

Mac did as he was
told.

“Looks good,”
Cordial added.

Mac spat his mouth
guard into the plastic tub Cordial offered.

“He’s out, yeah?”
Mac asked, not wanting to turn around and look back inside the cage.

“Out cold,”
Cordial confirmed. “They’re waking him up now. You’ve got a minute or two
before you need to go back in and let the people fawn over you.”

Great.

Mac sucked in a
breath, letting the lingering adrenaline from the fight fade away. His gaze
caught a pair of brown eyes off to the side, watching him with interest.

Unable to stop
himself, Mac offered Melina a grin.

Her companion
didn’t miss it.

“Is that what you
call a fucking match?” the guy shouted. “Fancy feet and quick fists don’t make
a good fighter!”

Mac laughed as the
guy’s face turned red. “How much money did you lose betting against me? You
didn’t have to shell out more cash for the night than you already have, man.”

Embarrassment was
a horrible thing to feel, especially when cash was involved.

Melina’s gaze
caught Mac’s again as he was shoved backwards into the cage for the winner to
be declared. Earlier in the night, her interest in the fights and people had
seemed nonexistent. Now, there was a flush to her caramel skin and her cold
stare held a familiar heat as she looked him over.

Sex and sin.

He bet a night
with her would be worth all the trouble she caused.

Smirking, Mac
mouthed, “I’ll see you again, doll.”

M
en. It didn’t
matter what they looked like or who they were. At the end of the day, they all
shared one basic characteristic—the desire to prove themselves as an alpha male
to a woman. Case in point, the two men last night who’d acted as if Melina were
some female they were rutting over: Garrett and Mac.

Different men, at
opposite ends of the male spectrum.

One with an
arrogance brought on by wealth.

The other with an
arrogance brought on by an unassuming confidence in himself.

And for some odd
reason Melina was strangely attracted to one of those men.

Though she’d been
annoyed from the moment she’d laid eyes on Garrett Jameson, the hazel-eyed Mac
was a different story altogether. Built with the body of a Greek god and tough
enough to take a man down before he knew what was happening to him, Melina
couldn’t deny that there was something about Mac that interested her.

Maybe it was the
way he’d looked at her. As if he could see through the tough exterior that had
become a constant part of her life.

But then again,
maybe it was the total disregard he’d shown for her date. Where there were sure
to be men who would’ve allowed the privileged Jameson to emerge as the alpha
male, Mac had risen to the challenge of showing which man really was the leader
of the pack.

Doll
.

One word. She
couldn’t get it out of her mind and she didn’t like it one bit.

Feminine
endearments had always bothered her for some reason. Perhaps it went back to
her catching her first “boyfriend,” whispering those endearments on the phone …
to another girl. Yep. That was probably it. She was no one’s “sweetheart”, “honey”,
or whatever other stupid pet name men liked to use. Her name was Melina and
Melina only. Mac calling her a “doll” had only reminded her of something she’d
rather forget. No doubt, he thought he was being cute. In reality, “doll” was a
throwback slang word used to describe a pretty but unintelligent or
expressionless woman. Melina was none of the latter.

But she’d spent
enough time thinking about the fighter. He was just a man, a rather attractive
man, but still a man like all the rest of them.

Parking her black
Nissan Altima in front of a nondescript, gray brick building, Melina killed the
ignition and exited, locking the car behind her. Walking unhurriedly, she
opened the door in front of her and entered. The front foyer of the building
was empty, but that didn’t matter. She knew better than to be deceived by
appearances. Melina found the wooden stairs that lead upstairs and took them
two at a time. When she reached the last stair, the strains of jazz filled the
air.

Pushing open the red
painted door in front of her, Melina came face to face with a red-haired woman
wearing a silk dressing gown.

“Melina, dear, I
thought I heard someone come in.”

“Expecting someone
else?”

Dulcea rolled her
green eyes. “You remember the first cardinal rule, never kiss and tell.”

“Well, since your
lipstick is still intact, I’ll assume you haven’t kissed anyone yet, so, it
wouldn’t technically be considered kissing and telling.”

“One of these
days, somebody is going to come along and tame that tongue of yours.”

“You mean when
Jesus returns? I assure you, he’s the only man capable of that feat.”

Dulcea gazed at
her with shrewd eyes. “We’ll see. Do you have something for me?”

“As always.”
Melina opened her purse and pulled out two folded checks, handing them to
Dulcea.

The redhead
unfolded the checks and looked at Melina, her eyes stretched wide.

“Damn girl. What
did you do?”

“Not what you’re
thinking.”

“Come on, now.
This old girl has been around the block a time or two. No judgment here if you
did.”

Crossing her arms,
Melina stared at her boss. “You know I have no problems with owning up to my
shit, but Garrett Jameson was in no way appealing to me. I hate men who think
their shit doesn’t stink because they have money.”

“And yet, you
entertain these men and are quite good at it. What a conundrum you are.”

Dulcea turned and
walked back into the room, beckoning for Melina to follow her.

“The moment you
figure a person out, the mystique is gone. You taught me that, remember?”

“Indeed, I did.”

Laughing, Dulcea
turned the dial to open the large wall safe. Placing the checks inside, she
pulled out two stacks of wrapped bills and handed them to Melina.

“Wow, this looks
like more than the usual take.”

Dulcea shut the
safe and faced Melina. “Of course it is. You brought in an extra thirty grand,
in addition to the fee I’ve already collected from your gentleman. Just make
sure you don’t spend it all in one place.”

Placing the stacks
of money in her purse, Melina gave Dulcea a terse smile. “When have you ever
known me to be a frivolous girl?”

“Never, but it is
all right for you to live a little. You’re a young, beautiful woman. The world
is whatever you want it to be.”

“The only thing I
want from this world, it can’t give me.”

Dulcea patted her
arm, her eyes shined bright. “I know. Just take it one day at a time, okay?”

Melina nodded. “I
am. Until next time.”

With a wave,
Melina was off and going up the stairs. She’d just banked eighteen grand. This
was the most money she’d ever made on a date.
You’re really coming up in the
world.
Sure she was. This would be the first money she’d earned that
wouldn’t be going to pay medical bills. A tear slipped down her cheek. For so
long, she’d worked with the hope of crawling out from under the debt that had
become a part of her life and now that part of her life was finally over. She
should be elated for what that meant, but Melina would go out with jerks for
the rest of life if it meant having her father back. There really were some
things money couldn’t buy.

“All right, let me
see those hands in the air. Run in place.”

Melina smiled at
the kids spread out in front of her. Ranging in age from six to fifteen, they
were regulars at the Boys and Girls Club, and she loved them all.

“Let’s do ten
jumping jacks. Let’s get that blood flowing.”

“I’m going to be
tired before we even get started,” fifteen-year-old Ursula said.

Melina laughed as
she joined them in their exercises. This was exactly what she needed. Time with
people still young and impressionable, not yet tainted by the bitterness of the
world. After all the ugliness she’d seen, these young boys and girls were a ray
of sunshine.

“I’m tired, Miss
Melina,” six-year-old Ellie said.

“That was the last
one, Ellie.”

“Yay,” a few of
the kids yelled.

Waving her arms to
signal them all to stop, Melina quickly paired the kids up in twos and helped
them to put on the protective mitts and face masks they used whenever she
taught them kickboxing.

“I’m ready to kick
some butt,” nine-year-old David said, hitting his gloves together.

“I’m not teaching
you guys so you can kick some butt. I want you to know how to defend yourself
if something ever happens, remember?”

“Yeah, but do you
know how badass the girls think it is when you tell them you’re a kickboxer?”
fourteen-year-old Mykel asked.

“They must not be
too bright if they believe you,” Ursula said before she started snickering.

Mykel glared at
Ursula, but before he could say anything, Melina swiftly redirected his attention
by telling the kids to all start practicing the punches and kicks she’d worked
with them on last week. For the next half hour, Melina taught the kids. A smile
never seemed to leave her face, but all too soon it was over. Glancing down at
her watch, she brought the practice to a halt.

“That’s enough for
today, guys. Put up the equipment and go get yourselves cleaned up. Pizza
should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” some
of the kids said in unison.

“You’re welcome.
Good work today.”

She watched as one
by one, the kids removed their equipment, wiped it down with alcohol wipes, and
put it away until the next class.

Renee, the main
operator of the Boys and Girls Club, joined Melina. “You wear these kids out
every time you come here.”

“I try my best,
Renee,” Melina said.

The older, salt-and-pepper-haired
woman smiled at her. “You do a darn good job of it. So many start off here but
they never stay. You’re the exception.”

“I love the kids.
Coming here is the highlight of my week.”

“I’m glad to hear
that. They love you, too.”

“I know. Listen,
I’ve ordered pizza and a few other things for them. Here’s the money to cover
it.”

Melina handed
Renee a wad of bills. The older woman cocked an eyebrow at her.

“This is way more
than pizza costs.”

Melina shrugged.
“I know, but things come up. Sometimes they need things. Just hold on to the
rest of it for when they need something.”

“Melina, this is
over three thousand dollars!”

“My dad always
used to say “Be a blessing to someone else, and the Lord will bless you with
even more”.”

“He was a smart
man.”

“Indeed, he was.
I’ll see you guys later.”

Before Renee could
say anything else, Melina slung her purse over her shoulder and exited the
building. Her heart felt lighter than it had in days. Walking down the sidewalk
towards the epicenter of the shopping complex, she decided a treat was in
order. She could almost taste the Caramel Macchiato she was going to order. The
wind blew around her, whipping her hair around her face. Running a hand through
it, Melina tugged the silky strands away from her face.

“You promised,” a
female’s high voice said.

Melina turned her
head in the direction of the voice. A blonde-haired girl had her arms wrapped
around a man whose face Melina couldn’t see, as too many people were flooding
the crosswalk. With hands stuffed in his pockets, he allowed her to drag him
across the street. Melina kept walking until she was at the stairs to the
entrance of the epicenter.

“I know I
promised, but this isn’t my scene.”

“Well, it’s mine
and today is all about me. That’s what you said. Get used to it.”

Melina shook her
head. Apparently, guys were into the needy type these days. Speed walking in
hopes of avoiding the couple, Melina missed a step and went tumbling. A pair of
tan, muscled arms caught her before she fell.

“Hey, doll.”

Melina knew that
voice.

Mac.