Cover reveal day for Gangster Moll is right around the corner on October 28th. In the meantime Bethany-Kris and I wanted to share an unedited teaser from the upcoming novel.
Add it to Goodreads here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32319864-gangster-moll
Sign up for the cover reveal and tour with Indie Sage here: http://indiesage.com/tour-gangster-moll-bethany-kris-erin-ashley-tanner/
Mac Maccari wasn’t a three-piece suit kind of man. He much preferred the comfort of dark-wash jeans, a T-shirt, and combat boots to wear while handling his daily business. It was a comfort thing, and a heat thing.
Glaring up at the bright sun in the sky as he crossed the street as quickly as he could, Mac swore he was melting under his suit. It was an unusually warm Summer for New York. It was almost always muggy during the season, but this year, Mother Nature decided to kick that shit up a notch.
Mac was less than impressed.
It probably didn’t help that the majority of his day was spent running to and from different locations as he handled his crew and what the men were doing at any given time.
But … it was what it was.
And he was damn good at his job.
Mac supposed that if he wasn’t good at being a Capo, he’d already be dead. At least, for the time being, he had that going for him.
The heat wave, however, could go to hell.
Tugging his jacket off, Mac slipped into the business at the very end of the block, tossing the coat over his arm as a cool blast of air from the air conditioner smacked him straight in the face. He soaked in the cold air as he glanced around the place, taking in the woman behind the counter, talking animatedly on the phone and snapping a large wad of gum in her mouth at the same time.
She didn’t even look like she noticed him standing there, for fuck’s sake.
Mac didn’t mind.
He wasn’t here to see her, anyway.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Mac searched for the message he’d been left earlier in the day. Infinite Insurance, ask for Ronnie, it read. A few other details had been included, but Mac figured those weren’t important until he found Ronnie.
Mac had come to find out, over his last few months as a newly appointed Capo for the Pivetti crime family that Luca Pivetti had little to no patience for people who owed him something. It didn’t matter what it was—money, action, or a word. If a person owed him, he expected them to pay accordingly.
Maybe even a little more simply because he was kind enough to do business with them.
As the boss, it was Luca’s due.
Mac didn’t question why his boss hadn’t simply sent an enforcer over to the place to handle his shit—that wasn’t his place. He just did what the boss wanted done.
Bypassing the receptionist without so much as a ‘hello’, Mac strolled to the back of the insurance bankers business, finding a hallway with several offices. All had glass windows for walls, letting him see the men and women inside, sitting behind desks with either a phone to their ear, or clients inside the offices.
Thankfully, plaques were attached to each door, names boldly inscribed on each one.
Mac found the Ronnie he was looking for mid-way down the hallway. The heavier-set gentleman was alone inside his office, from what Mac could see through the window, and didn’t seem to be tied up with a phone call as he was busy sorting papers.
That was going to suck when he had to clean up the mess later.
Mac couldn’t find much remorse for what he was about to do.
Business was business after all.
Cosa Nostra business was even tougher.
It simply couldn’t wait.
Mac didn’t bother to knock on the office door, but rather, turned the knob and walked right in, depositing his jacket on one of the two chairs meant for clients.
The insurance banker—Ronnie—glanced up, startled, at Mac’s sudden appearance. If Mac had to guess by the wrinkled dress shirt, the messy hair, and the tired gaze, Ronnie had some shit on his mind.
He was about to get more.
“You can’t just barge in here,” the man started to say. “Clients make appointments.”
Mac reached over and twisted the blinds closed on the window—no one could see in now. He locked the door, ensuring no one would walk in during the … meeting.
Turning back to face the man he’d been sent to see, Mac offered a wide-eyed Ronnie a smile. Cold as it was, Mac figured the guy would take this better if he was a little loosened up before the actual warning came about.
Ronnie started to stand from his desk, confusion writing heavily over his features. “Who in the hell are you?”
“I’m not important,” Mac said, rolling up the cuffs of his dress shirt.
Blood was a bitch to get out.
Maybe he’d avoid the few splatters that might occur, if it were possible.
But probably not.
“But Luca,” Mac continued, shrugging like it didn’t make a difference. “Now the boss and his money is a whole other story.”
For the first time since Mac entered Ronnie’s office, he saw the first trickle of genuine fear light up the man’s eyes.
“I-I have his—”
“They all say that,” Mac interrupted, knowing what the man was going to say.
Another stall tactic.
“Fact is,” Mac said, keeping an eye on Ronnie in case he grabbed for something to attack with, “… you’re two weeks late, according to the boss. And he was nice enough to fund your little project because apparently, you go way back. Now you’re ducking and dodging Luca like it’s what you do for a living.”
Mac chuckled, waving around at the office.
“Clearly, you work in another business, and you’re not very good at the ducking and dodging game,” Mac finished with another smooth, cold smile.
“Let me call Luca,” the man said quickly. “Please, we’re friends. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”
Luca didn’t care who a person was—friend, family, or enemy.
If someone owed him something, they owed him.
“Just let me make this easy,” Mac said. “You’ve only got to bleed, after all. Nobody says you’re going to fucking die from it. Now, if you make it hard on me, that’s going to be a problem, and it’ll probably hurt a lot more. Do us both a favor here, and let me get this over with.”
Ronnie opened his mouth to say something, his gaze darting to the windows, the door, and then to Mac.
Mac knew that look. It was the look of a man trying to find his way out.
Well, he had news for the guy.
“Make a single sound, and I will cut your tongue out,” Mac said quietly. “There is no where to run, and very few people left in the building. So unless you want your associates to know how you’ve been doing underground business with a mafia boss, I suggest you let me do what I came here to do.”
Mac knew it would be—it always was.