Gun Moll Read Online Free Page A

five minutes to get ready. Capisce ?”
    Melina’s gaze
caught Mac’s and he winked at her.
    “Get used to
hearing that name,” Mac murmured, still smirking like a motherfucker. “It’ll be
said a lot tonight.”
    She didn’t respond;
the fool pulled her away.
     

     
    “All right, Macky
boy, lemme tape up those hands of yours good and tight.”
    Mac sighed,
willing away his irritation with the fight manager. Pissing off the guy who
could get Mac into the cage or throw him out of it didn’t seem like a good
idea. Why did people just assume they could take his name and twist it however
they saw fit?
    “Just Mac,
Cordial.”
    “Yeah, well, I
like Macky. Shut your mouth. You’re better with your fists anyway.”
    Perfetto .
     Mac dropped it.
“What’s the payout?”
    “If you lose,
nothing.”
    “I’m not going to
lose.”
    Cordial chuffed
under his breath as he wrapped another line of tape across Mac’s knuckles and
under his palm. “You’re too cocky for your own good, boy.”
    “Have I lost a
fight in here before?” Mac asked.
    “No, but there’s
always a first time for everything. And an arrogant attitude is the fastest way
to get there.”
    “Payout?” he asked
again.
    “I won’t know
until you’re in the ring. They changed up the betting. Frankie didn’t want to
have a list of fights for the night. He wanted the betting to be spur-of-the-moment
and straight out of the stupid, excited pockets.”
    Mac laughed under
his breath. “It’s no wonder there’s free liquor in here now. I was curious about
that earlier, but I think I get it now.”
    Cordial smiled.
“Bang on, my boy. The drunker they are, the more excited they get, and the
bigger they bet. You always seem to draw a good number.”
    “Is Tank still
meeting me in the cage?”
    His companion’s
smile faded fast.
    “What?” Mac
demanded.
     “Tank had to bow
out last minute,” Cordial said quietly, focusing all of his attention on taping
up Mac’s other hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just get in there, fight, and don’t
pay attention to the last name of your opponent.”
    Shit.
    That did not sound
good.
    “What’s his last
name, Cordial?”
    “Ferro.”
    Fuck.
    “Frankie’s boy?”
Mac asked.
    Cordial nodded.
    Mac figured. Junior
was the only Ferro that Mac knew who occasionally liked to step into a cage and
fight. The guy was good, as far as that went. He could take care of himself and
he wasn’t liable to get beat to death or something during a match.
    But he was still a
fucking Ferro.
    In Cosa Nostra,
men didn’t fight one another. Part of the oath men took when entering into the
life explicitly forbade made men from physically hurting another made man. It
was against every rule Mac had ever learned in la famiglia . It also
didn’t help that the two men came from rival families and word might get out
that Mac had taken a Ferro son on in the cage. Despite having his Capo’s okay
for the fights on occasion, Mac didn’t have the main boss’s okay.
    Then again, he’d
never gotten close enough to the Pivetti Don to ask anything.
    But with this
fight tonight, going hand to hand with a made man in another family, Mac might
be asking for trouble he didn’t want or need. Junior was made, as far as Mac
knew. Mac wasn’t, but beating the hell out of the guy wasn’t a quick way to get
his button. Especially if someone caused any trouble about it.
    Sore losers, and
all that jazz.
    “You want to fight
or not?” Cordial asked, slapping Mac’s fists hard.
    Money.
    Mac needed some.
    That goddamn roof
at his mother’s wasn’t going to fix itself. He had his car payment and rent
due, plus his sister had mentioned she was looking at a starter home. Mac
wanted to help Victoria out with that, even if she hadn’t asked for money.
    Cash, cash, cash.
    It was a fucking
mantra Mac couldn’t escape. He’d wanted to be a wise-guy because he thought
that was how money was made. That, getting in with a family, and earning