Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family Series Book 2) (3 page)

He chuckled again. “Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee.”

I loved Bones’s laugh. His deep, throaty chuckle caressed my senses, making me want more of it. More of him. I did not, however, want him to be laughing
at
me. Trying to play it cool, I refused to be embarrassed. “Psht. That’s totally what I said. Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves?”

He pulled my arms in closer to my chest and turned my fists. “We’re not doing that kind of boxing. I’m gonna show you how to defend yourself if someone comes at you on the street. For the next time you decide to go off and do your own thing.” He gave me a pointed look. “Chances are you won’t be wearing gloves.”

I shrugged. “I could be, though. Boxing gloves are in this year.”

That earned me a smile. “Hit the bag, Ari.”

I took a swing, made contact, and the bag moved maybe an inch. Fail.

“You dropped your shoulder,” Bones admonished, readjusting my stance.

When? How? All I’d done was swing. “No I didn’t.”

He cocked his head. “Yes, you did. Here, step into it and swing like this. Move your arm, not your shoulder.” He demonstrated the move and I tried not to gawk at the way his muscles flexed. “Your turn.”

I did my best to mimic his swing. This time the bag moved a little further.

“Did you see that?” I asked. “I’m a badass. You can have my autograph though.” And I planned to write it with my fingers… right across his chest.

“Keep it up,” he said, stepping toward his own bag.

I threw half-hearted punches as I watched Bones dish out some serious punishment. As his bag swung to and fro, he seemed to anticipate every rotation, stepping around and countering its rebounds like a pro. It was an incredible sight, and it took everything I had in me to focus on my own bag enough to give it the occasional punch. I was probably drooling, but I didn’t care. The man was so hot all he had to do was beat on an inanimate object to make me pant.

Desperate to match his thug status and prove I wasn’t some wimpy loser, I stepped up my game, punching harder and harder. My bag swung wider and wider as odd battle cries tore from my throat, like I was channeling that butterfly guy. Screw that. I was gonna be the next Ronda Rousey. But before I could even say “cage match” my bag swung too hard and plowed into me. I panicked and flung my arms around it, locking it in a hug. It swayed. I swayed with it.

Bones glanced over at me and arched an eyebrow.

I patted the bag, hoping he’d mistake the red of my face for exertion. “We just made up. I kicked his ass, he apologized. We’re cool now.”

“So… you’re dancing?”

Yep. I was still swaying with the bag. I released it and stepped away, eyeing the bag lest it come at me for another round. “How is this supposed to teach me to protect myself?”

“The more you hit the bag, the more comfortable you’ll get with swinging punches. The key is not to hesitate. When you get a shot, you take it.”

It sounded like he was repeating something he’d heard. “So, if someone attacks me, this will help me punch them?”

He took another swing at his bag. “Or kick them, or poke out their eye, or whatever. When it’s about survival, you fight as dirty as you need to.”

I considered his words while sizing up my bag and pretending it was an attacker. I hit it, kicked it, and kneed it in the crotch.

“That’s better,” Bones said.

“You been in a lot of fights?” I asked.

“As many as necessary.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“Sure it was.”

His crooked smile and elusive answers made me want to punch him. Then kiss him. Then maybe punch him again. Trying a different angle, I asked, “Do you like to fight?”

Bones’s brow furrowed as he hit his bag a few more times. “I’m a bodyguard, Ari. It kinda goes with the job.”

Another non-answer. “Yeah, okay. But say you weren’t a bodyguard. Pretend you could be anything in the world. What would you want to be?”

Bones’s gaze cut to something above my head before he looked away. I followed his glance to the dark glass bubble hiding a security camera. They were all over Vegas.

“I like being Angel’s bodyguard,” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “I have everything I need. Nothing else I could imagine doing.”

His declaration made me both jealous and sad. Jealous because he seemed genuinely content with his life. He knew what he wanted to do, and he was doing it. But at the same time, it made me sad because I realized he had no life dreams or goals. Sure, I was a waitress, but I had hope of being something more. There was zero hope in Bones’s eyes, and he seemed fine with that. I wanted to know why, but before I could launch my barrage of questions at him, he stepped away from his bag and nodded toward the door.

“We should head up, Ari. You gotta get ready for work.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he was right. Following him to the door, I swallowed my questions. For now.

CHAPTER THREE

Bones

I
TOOK ARIANA to work, but before she got out of the Hummer she made me promise to be careful.

I hadn’t told her a damn thing about my job, but the girl didn’t miss a thing. I really liked that about her, even though it often frustrated the hell out of me. “I’m always careful.”

She beamed me a beautiful smile before wrapping me in a quick good-bye hug. I stiffened, both wanting her touch and wanting to avoid her all together.

“Thanks for the ride,” she called out, like she didn’t try to ditch me every chance she got.

I watched as she headed into the casino. Her short black uniform showed off her long, sexy legs and her slender waist. Her caramel-colored hair came just past her chin, teasing me with glimpses of her perfect neck. Heads turned as she walked by, but Ariana didn’t seem to notice. The girl had no clue how hot she really was, which was another thing I liked about her.

As I pulled away from the curb, Carlo called me in for a meeting at his home office. No matter how good Angel’s phone distorters were, most of the old-school wiseguys still didn’t trust technology and insisted on in-person meetings. Carlo Mariani was as old-school as they came, only carrying around a cell phone because the boss insisted on being able to reach him at all times.

Carlo’s house was a modest, split-level Southwestern stucco in a gated community. A guard greeted me by the garage entrance and took me past the same Jaguar that had pulled up to my middle school thirteen years ago. Carlo had to be loaded, but neither his home nor his car showed it. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep his millions buried in booby-trapped jars in his backyard, waiting for the first disillusioned schmuck to think he was smart enough to steal from the underboss of the Mariani family. Thankfully, that would never be me.

The guard passed me on to the live-in housekeeper, Constanza. She was a little Hispanic woman in her early fifties, and Carlo had kept her around for as long as I’d known him. He’d never married, and I had a sneaking suspicion she did a lot more than cooking and cleaning around there.

“Bones, it is so nice to see you!” Constanza said, embracing me. She’d always been kind and welcoming, but a few years ago I’d helped her nephew out with a bully situation, and she treated me like family ever since. “Can I get you something? Water? I’m making some tamales. They’ll be ready soon.”

“Explains that intoxicating smell,” I said, taking a deep whiff and smiling. “You know, if Carlo ever cuts you loose, I’ll put a ring on your finger.”

And if Carlo overheard me say that and thought I was serious, he’d put a bullet in my head. Constanza knew I was bluffing, though. She beamed me a bashful smile.

“You are too kind to an old woman, Bones,” she replied, leading me toward Carlo’s office. “Whenever you’re ready to settle down, I do have a niece who’d be perfect for you, though. Beautiful girl. Smart, too. She’s in nursing school right now.”

Just like Ma, Constanza was determined to make sure I settled down with a nice girl. She had more nieces than anyone I knew, and this was the third one she’d brought up in the past six months. My question was always the same. “But can she cook like you?”

Constanza frowned. “Not yet, but maybe someday. But she’s got a face like an angel.”

“It’ll never work, then.” Besides, I already had one smart and beautiful girl complicating my life. I had no desire to add another one.

“Too bad,” Constanza said, opening Carlo’s office and motioning me in.

“Bones. Good to see you. Please, come in.” Wearing the typical uniform—suit, tie, dress shoes—and standing in front of a bay window with a great view of his backyard, Carlo was the indisputable king of his castle. He crossed the room and shook my hand before gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Can Constanza bring you anything?”

I declined, but she promised to wrap me up a few tamales to go before leaving Carlo and me to our business. As always, I passed him an envelope of cash, a percentage of everything I’d collected on over the past few days. He slid the envelope into the breast pocket inside his suit jacket and leaned against his mahogany desk.

“What’s going on with Matt Deter?” he asked.

Matt Deter, the current bane of my existence, was a low-life dealer who owed the family three thousand dollars for a shipment of dope he’d taken to the streets and never paid for. He also happened to be Ariana’s ex-boyfriend. Last time they were together, he pumped her pretty little veins full of enough dirty dope to kill her, then pulled a disappearing act. That was Halloween, the night I met her. She’d recovered physically, but she never talked about Matt or the experience. I had every intention of finding the asshole and making him pay for what he’d done to her with his life.

“He’s been layin’ low, but I got eyes and ears watchin’. First squeak that rat makes, we’ll be all over him,” I reassured Carlo. “He’s arrogant. He’ll show his face sooner or later. Can’t help himself.”

“Good, good. As soon as he pops his head out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, do him up good.” He paused and leaned against his desk. “But shake him down and find out who he’s getting his junk from first. We need to get that shit off the streets. It’s bringing too much heat down on the market.”

Although I was just an enforcer, I understood the drug trade to be a tricky business. The product had to be cheap enough to keep buyers loyal, but also of high enough quality to keep them alive. The family policed the market to make sure balance was kept, but during the war with the Pelinos we’d lost control. Someone had flooded the streets with dirty dope, causing enough deaths to make the politicians pay attention. Carlo’s team had been hunting down the dealers and slowing distribution, but if we didn’t get it cut off at the source soon, even the greased cops would have to get their noses in Carlo’s business. Nobody wanted that.

“Yes sir. I’ll make sure he squeals.”

He nodded and crossed his arms. “In the meantime, I have another job for you. Renzo has a fence by the name of Jimmy Foster… you ever hear of him?”

Renzo was Angel’s third cousin, but I was unfamiliar with the fence. “No sir.”

“This guy Jimmy stiffed Renzo on a big deal. Probably thought the Pelinos were gonna come out on top of this war and wasn’t worried about offending one of ours. I’m sending you with Renzo to set this
stronzo
straight.”

Regardless of how big a bastard Jimmy Foster was, sending me with Renzo was a strange move for Carlo to make. Renzo was a made man—formally inducted into the family—who had his own team, and they were more than capable of handling some suicidal fence. But I’d learned long ago not to question the orders of my capo. “Understood.”

“I’ll have the new Tech send you the details when Renzo’s ready to make his move.” Carlo pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, stuck one between his lips, and lit it. He took a drag and then said, “Now tell me about Angel. The kid’s really going straight?”

Carlo knew everything about Angel the boss had tried to hide. He knew Angel was different. It wasn’t that Angel was soft—because he wasn’t—but he had a higher regard for life than what was acceptable for someone in our line of business. Even if Angel managed to physically survive leading the family, it’d tear him up inside.

“Looks like it. He’s already got a job offer with some big-time tech company.”