Gun Moll Read Online Free Page B

his
button properly, would keep his family from suffering in poverty.
    They were still
drowning in poverty at times, just like they always had. When Mac had money,
things were good. When he didn’t, his family was barely able to keep their
heads above water.
    “Yeah,” Mac
grunted, pushing off the table. “I’m going to fight.”
    “Good.” Cordial
held out the mouth guard that Mac brought along for the evening and he shoved
it in his mouth, biting down hard on the rubbery piece. Everything had to be
checked before it went into the ring. Even something simple, like a mouth
guard. “Keep your chin tucked in and your eyes on his right side. He favors
harder hits, rather than several smaller ones. Watch for when that hit comes,
Macky. He puts a lot of power behind it and he won’t have much left to spare.
You’re a good old southpaw, so keep that locked up tight until you get the
chance to take the best shot. Make that one count. He’s quick on his feet, so
you might wanna get him on the mat. Got it?”
    Mac nodded. “Yes.”
    “Let’s go.”
     

     
    Mac ignored the
cheers, jeers, and pounding feet as he stepped into the cage. Their faces were
nameless and unimportant to him. It wasn’t the excitement of the crowd that got
him revving for a fight. It wasn’t the flushed, turned on faces of women or the
bloodthirsty men.
    Mac didn’t fight
for any of that.
    Nor for approval,
validation, or release.
    No, he fought to
win.
    He fought for
money and nothing more.
    All those late
nights at shoddy gyms when he was a teenager had paid off over the years.
Between running on the streets for dealers and delivering messages for his
uncle to his father before Marco died, Mac found time to kill, in gyms and a
punching bag. He learned a few skills in boxing and Kung Fu, which worked well
inside a cage when matched with his quickness and sharp eye.
    “Open up,” the
girl wearing the smallest bikini ever and a fake smile said.
    She was rake-thin,
with bleach-blonde hair and not Mac’s type. Unfortunately, the crowd loved a
good show when the fighters got into the cage together, so he had a part to
play. Making a point to wag his eyebrow and smirk at the girl, he opened his
mouth and pushed his mouth guard out with the tip of his tongue. She took her
time inspecting his mouth before he felt her hands slide under the boxing
shorts he wore.
    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