Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family Series Book 2)
Read Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Amanda Washington
By
Copyright © 2016 by Amanda Washington
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Dedicated to:
All the people who practice random acts of kindness,
like showing up on the doorstep of a struggling friend
with a basket full of love. Thank you for all you do.
CHAPTER ONE
Bones
M
Y POPS ONCE told me that a real man provides for his family, no matter what the circumstances. It’s ironic since the old man disappeared when I was ten, leaving my mom to raise me and my brothers alone.
I’ve spent years wondering what happened to him. Did he wake up one morning and decide he’d had enough of the responsibilities of being a man? Or did he piss off the wrong people and end up taking a dirt nap in one of the luxurious Las Vegas landfills? Regardless, he left for work one day and never bothered to show his face again.
Ma did her best in his absence, evolving overnight from a sheltered housewife into an exhausted housekeeper, pulling double shifts to ensure her family’s minimum-wage survival. She worked hard, but she could only do so much. So when I saw an opportunity to help her out, I jumped on it.
It all started while I waited outside my school for Ma to pick me up. The disapproving Principal Jones leaned against the bike rack beside me, occasionally breaking into another lecture about the importance of keeping my hands to myself. But the kids at my school were loud-mouthed punks, and my fists were the only weapon I could afford.
While we waited, a slick black-and-chrome Jaguar rolled to a stop in front of us. The front doors opened and two men dressed in suits and shiny black shoes emerged. The passenger was broad-shouldered with no neck and more muscles than any suit could contain. He approached with his head on a swivel, one hand in his pocket, and a threatening scowl. The driver was older and walked slower. He had a potbelly and a lit cigarette was hanging from his lips. He took a drag of the smoke and gave me a calculated smile. I had the feeling I was being sized up. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away and gave a slight nod to Mr. Jones. Expecting my principal to go ballistic about the man smoking on school property, I turned. Mr. Jones was walking back toward the school, leaving me alone with the two suits.
“You Gino Leone’s boy?” the older man asked, still watching me. He had a scar on his cheek and the bridge of his nose zig-zagged like it had been broken a time or two.
The mention of my pops gave me pause. When Ma had reported his disappearance, she told me and my brothers the cops would be by to ask us questions. It had been months and they hadn’t bothered. The men in front of me didn’t look like any cops I’d ever seen, but I wasn’t going to risk it. If they knew something about Pops, I wanted to hear what they had to say. I nodded. Then, because my inner voice of self-preservation told me to be a little more respectful, I added a hasty, “Yes sir. How do you know my father?”
Instead of answering, the old man stepped closer and patted me on the shoulder. I was big for a ten-year-old, but his hand was enormous. It slid down to my bicep and wrapped around my arm. Shocked, I watched his giant mitt probe my muscles. A few of his knuckles were bent funny, like they’d been broken or popped out of place too many times, which seemed odd paired with his nice suit.
“We can work with this,” the old man said. “It’ll take some training, but you got heart, kid, and that’s what matters. You did a good thing today,” he said, pulling my attention back to his face. Something lingered behind his eyes. Pride? Amusement? I couldn’t tell.
A good thing? I searched for sarcasm in his tone, but he seemed genuinely pleased with me, which didn’t make sense since I had been suspended for breaking a kid’s arm. Hell, I wasn’t pleased with myself. Mr. Jones said Mom would most likely get stuck with the kid’s hospital bill. She’d probably ground me for life. Then she’d have to pick up a third job. Just thinking about her having to work more because of my temper made me sick.
The old man grinned, splitting his face in two and making him look like a frog. “Not just a good thing. A great thing. A smart thing.” He leaned closer to me and added, “You opened doors for your future today, kid. Doors that pay well.” He eyed my too-small T-shirt, my faded jeans, and my worn sneakers. “You look like you could use a little extra cash.”
I knew exactly what I looked like, but his words still stung. I scowled at him, and he held up his hands and shook his head.
“Just an observation. No offense meant. Look, you did me a favor today, so I’m trying to return the gesture. That’s how it works with the family. You scratch our backs, we scratch yours. Now, you interested in some work or not?”
I glanced back at the school and then scanned the street. Mr. Jones hadn’t returned, there was no sign of my mom, and the entire conversation was confusing me. Before I could answer his question, I needed details. “I did you a favor?” I asked.
“You helped my nephew.”
I blinked.
Nephew?
“The boy being harassed by that little ingrate you attacked.”
My mind raced, trying to think of who he could be talking about. My fight today had been to fulfill my own personal vendetta. Some new kid, a jackass richie-rich, had been pissing all over the school, trying to mark his territory. Yesterday he’d been in the lunch line behind me, close enough to see my free-lunch status on the check-in computer and had been talking crap about it ever since. I’d been waiting for an opportunity to teach him a lesson, and saw it today when he was stuffing a kid into a locker after recess. I hadn’t even seen who was being bullied, just saw the richie-rich with his back turned and pounced. I thought back to the layout of the lockers, trying to figure out who the poor sap shoved into his locker could have been. “D’Angelo Mariani,” I whispered.
“His friends and family call him Angel,” the old man said. “Mariani.”
Even had I never heard the name before, the reverent way he uttered it spoke of power and authority. But all Vegas natives knew who the Marianis were.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
He cracked a smile and turned toward his associate. “Gets right down to business. Just like his old man.”
“How do you know my father?” I asked again.
Emotion flickered across the old guy’s face, but before I could place it, it was gone. He nodded. “Don’t worry about it, kid.” When I didn’t respond, he added, “Good man. Stand-up guy.”
The way he didn’t use tense wasn’t lost on me. Nobody seemed to know whether or not Pops was alive or dead, and if this guy knew, he wasn’t telling. Pops had warned me to stay away from the families though. I knew he’d tell me to run… to get the hell away from the Marianis.
But if Pops wanted a say in my life, he should have come home.
The old man pulled out a billfold and made a big show of thumbing through the wad of cash clipped together. Hundreds, fifties, and twenties floated through his fingers like they were Monopoly money of no real consequence, but it was more cash than I’d ever seen. He tugged several bills loose and offered them to me. It had to be at least four hundred dollars. My mind raced, imagining what I could do with it. I had to force my gaze back to his face, and remind myself I still didn’t know what the job entailed.
“My nephew needs a friend. A guy on the inside who can look out for him. He’s a smart kid, but his blood will make him some enemies. You do this for me, and I’ll make sure your family will be taken care of. Protected.
Capisce?
”
My attention drifted back to the cash. I was young, but I wasn’t stupid. There were no Good Samaritans in Vegas. Everyone sought the big payout, nobody gave away anything for free. And this offer was way too good to be true.
“You want me to be his friend and protect him? That’s it?” And he was willing to pay me hundreds for it? There had to be some sort of catch.
“Yeah. You’ll get training. Like I said, you got heart, but we’ll teach you the skills you need. Other opportunities might arise—chances for you to earn more—but Angel will always be your primary responsibility. What do you say, kid?” He added a few more twenties to the stack, sweetening the deal. “You ready to step up and become a man? Ready to help your mom out?”
The mention of Ma made me pause. Whoever this man was, he was too personal… too familiar. It felt strange, worrisome.
He chuckled. “I’m asking you to be my nephew’s friend and bodyguard, Franco Leone. You better believe I know everything about you.”
And what did I know about him? Not a damn thing. Angel, though—Angel was a quiet kid. Respectful. A little geeky. I could hang out with him and watch his back.