Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family Series Book 2) (9 page)

I nodded.

“And now… they got rid of the cancer, but there’s no guarantee it won’t come back. The only guarantee we have is right now, and I want to spend every possible moment of right now with her. I can’t wait to see her walking down the aisle, dressed in a long, white gown. I want my ring on her finger, and my child growing inside her. Every experience… I want to have with her. I know it sounds crazy, but I need your support on this. I need you to have my back.”

Now how could I refuse a request like that? Besides, Angel was the smartest guy I knew, and I’d never seen him act impulsively in any relationship but this one. Maybe Markie was the one, if there even was such a thing. Maybe they’d do what fifty percent of married couples couldn’t do and actually make it work. Regardless, my friend had made up his mind and needed my support, not my pessimism.

“You got it, bro.”

The worry etched into Angel’s face morphed into a relieved smile. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Now, as my best man, I need your help to figure out how to get Markie’s ring size.”

“Best man, huh?”

“Well, yeah.”

I couldn’t resist the chance to screw with him. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? What if you offer her that expensive rock in there and she shoots you down cold?”

He stared at me a second before shaking his head, chuckling. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I believe the title is ‘Best Asshole.’”

Still chuckling, he started up the engine. “She wouldn’t say no, would she?”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “For a genius, you can be pretty stupid sometimes. Hell, Angel, if you offered me a ring like that, I’d be tempted to marry you. She’ll say yes, all right. And then you’ll have some big-ass wedding that costs more than the average person makes in ten years and she’ll start popping out little humanitarian-genius children who will make me want to puke. I’ll have to teach ’em a thing or two.”

“Great. Stay away from my kids, Bones.”

“Uncle Bones. Uncle Bones, Best Asshole. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I was still worried for Angel, but who was I to keep him from being happy? Even if he wanted to marry some chick he’d only known for less than two months. Hell, I might even help him.

“You can’t give it to her for Christmas,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s pretty cheap. Like trying to get points for two occasions with one present.” I shook my head. “You’re better than that, Angel.”

He chuckled. “Okay, smartass, what the hell do I get her for Christmas?”

I shrugged. “You’re the one with sisters.”

“And somehow, I don’t think they’d like the same gifts. What are you getting Ari?”

“I have to get Ari something?” I asked. I always sent Ma something, and gave my little brother cash, but there was nobody else I’d ever felt the need to get a Christmas present for.

“Bones, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Get her a damn present.”

There was no denying my attraction to her. Sure, Ariana was fine, but there was so much more than her appearance. “She’s a cool broad and all, but you know how things are. I can’t…”

Angel knew how the family worked, so I didn’t need to say more. He nodded.

“Well, when we get out of here…” He let the promise hang in the air.

“Yeah.” I refused to voice the giant “ifs” that inevitably followed.

If
I managed to find Matt.
If
Carlo decided to let me go.
If
Ariana came with us.

Before heading home, Angel and I did a little Christmas shopping, while I kept one eye open, watching for Matt.

CHAPTER NINE

Bones

L
IGHTS OFF, EVERYONE else in bed, I sat on the couch and struggled to wrap my mind around the idea of Angel getting married. Since he was the son of the Las Vegas
Capo di capi
, or boss of bosses, I’d always expected my friend to be forced into a political marriage. That’s the way things were done in the family. Only Angel had broken the mold somehow, and now he’d be able to make his own life decisions. The family couldn’t be happy about that, and I wondered what their retribution would be. I was still puzzling out the situation when Ariana ventured into the kitchen to pour herself some water. The clock on the wall told me it was well past midnight.

“The sandman hasn’t visited you yet either, huh?” I asked, sitting up.

She let out a little squeak and fumbled her cup, barely catching it before it hit the granite countertop. “Dammit, Bones.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” I did, though. It was fun.

She filled a second glass, carried them both in, and sat beside me on the sofa. “The sandman’s a hater, but he’s not the one keeping me up tonight.” She offered me the second glass.

Wondering what she meant, I thanked her. Before I could take a sip, she clinked her glass to mine.

“To the stupid decisions that keep us up all night. May they go straight to hell.” She downed her water and set her glass on the coffee table before sagging back into the couch.

“What’d you do?” I asked.

She turned her head and considered me for a moment. I watched her as I sipped, trying to look as trustworthy and non-threatening as possible. I got people to open up all the time, but usually I had a baseball bat or a gun in my hand. I’d never tried this method before, but I really did want to understand what was bothering Ariana. Turns out I’m not so good at looking trustworthy and non-threatening, because she turned away and crossed her arms.

“Doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

“But it still keeps you up?” Meant she had quite the conscience. I filed that bit of interesting information away.

“Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Just trying to understand you.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that one. Let me know if you figure anything out.”

“It would help if you told me more about yourself,” I replied.

“Says the man with more secrets than an international spy.” Then she huffed and turned to look at me again. “Fine, I’ll play. What do you want to know?”

I really wanted to know what was bothering her, but that topic seemed off limits, at least for now. Sticking to a safer subject, I asked, “Why Vegas?”

Her brow scrunched up.

“If you want to start up a music career, there are lots of better choices. New York, Nashville, L.A. I looked up the best places for aspiring musicians online and Vegas didn’t even make the list.”

“You looked it up?”

After my conversation with Angel, I wanted to know what it took to get discovered in Las Vegas, so yeah, I looked it up. But I couldn’t exactly admit any of that to Ariana without disclosing our plans for her birthday. “Yeah, I was curious.”

Something in her expression shifted. She tilted her head slightly and asked, “Why?”

This was not at all how I’d imagined this conversation going. I was trying to find out more about Ariana, but somehow she’d turned it around on me. Anything I said would either make me sound like a stalker or clue her into our plans for her birthday. I took another drink, buying enough time to help me realize how to cover this up.

“Because my boss is dating your sister and your story didn’t make sense. Came to Vegas to start a singing career? Why?”

Ariana frowned. I got the feeling she was disappointed, but she shrugged it off and grinned. “I don’t know. Maybe because I figured I’d have a profession to fall back on here, in case the whole singing thing doesn’t work out.”

I arched my eyebrows in question.

“Hookers make great money.”

“Ari—”

“What, you wouldn’t pay to touch this bod?” She ran a hand down her side, drawing my attention to her curves.

Killing me. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, I’m only kidding. Mostly. I don’t know why I chose Vegas. Maybe because my mom hated this city and some twisted little part of me expected her to jump out of the grave and stop me from coming here.”

She looked so frail and vulnerable for a moment, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and reassure her everything would be okay. But before I could move, she grinned again. “But for real, hookers do make great money.”

The next morning I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. I reached for my gun on the coffee table and sprang to my feet, instantly alert. No one was there. I crept to the door and peered out the peephole in time to see Ariana turn the corner wearing gym clothes, with her bag slung over her shoulder. She was going to work out, and she hadn’t woken me and asked me to join her. Wondering why, I pulled on a pair of sweats, grabbed my gym bag, and headed out the door. On the way to the elevator my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Tech. Renzo was on his way to pick me up and would meet me outside the building in ten minutes. I swore and headed back into the apartment to dress.

Since Angel and Markie were still asleep, I suited up quietly and took my gym bag with me. If the hit was quick, I would still have time to join Ariana before she was done with her workout. Once I was in the elevator, I messaged Angel to let him know Ariana was in the gym and I was going out on a job with Renzo.

Like most of the family, Renzo drove a black SUV with tinted windows and safety features you couldn’t find in any off-the-lot vehicle. It idled in front of the complex doors, kicking out exhaust into the crisp morning. He had one of his security guards—a guy by the name of Paul O’Brian—in the passenger’s seat, so I climbed in the back and buckled up. Renzo didn’t even look at me when I said hello, which was unusual. He was Angel’s cousin, and there was some sort of beef between the two of them, but Renzo had always been cool with me. Wondering what the hell was going on, I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the men in the front seat.

“What’s in the bag?” Paul asked.

I patted it. “Workout clothes. Gonna hit the gym when I get back.”

“Search it,” Renzo ordered.

In our line of work, you were either paranoid or dead. Trust was an expensive commodity and the richer and more powerful you were, the less you could afford it. I wouldn’t expect Renzo to trust me any more than he’d expect me to trust him. He outranked me, though, so I obligingly handed my bag to Paul, who rifled through it.

“Clean,” Paul said, tossing my bag back to me.

We drove the rest of the way in silence and parked behind a small restaurant not far from the strip. Renzo climbed out of the SUV, leaving his guard behind, and waited at the curb. Taking his silent stare as my cue to join him, I left my bag in the seat and we headed for the restaurant. Paul remained in the vehicle, also weird since the Marianis never went anywhere without their guards. I spared one more glance toward the SUV, but Paul was staring out the windshield and didn’t even look my direction.

Confused, I hurried my steps and caught up to Renzo, who thumbed something into his phone as we walked. Then he said, “Jimmy’s alone in a booth on the northwest corner.” His tone was angry and his words were clipped. “He’s angled himself so he can see all entrances, but I just sent him a distraction.”

“Got it.” I clutched the gun in my jacket pocket. “Warn or whack?”

“How about you just stand there with your thumb up your ass while I handle it?”