Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 2) Page 3

  The ginger shared a look with the two Italian men before shaking his head. "We were determined to keep costs down, and what you're talking about would be much more innovative and expensive to create."

  I handed the papers back to the ginger. "No, we wouldn't use it. Our family is precise, and our hits are clean."

  The men looked at me like I was speaking fucking Greek, so I broke it down into terms they could understand. "We always get our man. With this bomb, there's no guarantee of that, whereas if I'm lookin' through the crosshairs of my sniper rifle when my bullet splits the skull of my target, I'm certain. If I'm starin' the son-of-a-bitch in the eye when my pistol pumps two rounds into his heart, I know the job's done. If I slide my knife into his throat and carve him a second smile, I can go home knowing the bastard isn't gonna recover to come lookin' for me. Personally, I'm a little too hands-on to place a bomb and hope it gets the job done."

  "There you have it." Father stood, letting us know the conversation was coming to an end. "The Mariani family frowns on collateral damage, so that is a concern, but we also make sure our hits are dead. Still, we might have a use for your devices. Now that Angel has seen the specs, we'll discuss it and have an answer to you within the week. I have another meeting I must get to, and my security is calling the limo. They'll be waiting downstairs to take you wherever you need to go. Angel will walk you out."

  And with that, Father shook hands and vacated the room.

  Open-mouthed, the trio stared after him. They'd flown across the country and were no doubt expecting more than a five-minute chat with the head of the Las Vegas families. To be honest, I'm surprised they even got that much of his time. After a moment of stunned silence, the ginger packed up his paperwork and the three wiseguys followed me and Bones down the hall, the tension radiating from them betraying their outrage.

  "Well, that was awkward," Bones said, as we watched them climb into the limo.

  I chuckled, shaking my head. "I don't even know what that was."

  My phone rang. Knowing the old man would be calling to debrief me, I clicked on my bluetooth and answered.

  "You'll recognize those devices if you see them?" Father asked.

  Any new tech or weapons our guys picked up in the city found its way onto my desk. "Yessir."

  "Good. Let me know the minute they surface." He disconnected.

  "Everything okay?" Bones asked.

  "He wants me to be on the lookout for the bombs."

  Bones's eyebrows rose. "You think one of the families will buy them?"

  "Father does." The certainty in his statement made that clear. Still, I couldn't imagine someone being stupid enough to purchase that shit. Why would any of the families need bombs? Was someone planning to overthrow my family? The crime families had been prospering under Father's rule. Why would someone want to challenge him?

  Bones shook his head, probably wondering the same things I was. "What the fuck is wrong with people?"

  That was the million-dollar question I had no answer for.

  With the rest of the afternoon free, Bones and I headed to the gym in my condo building.

  When I'd graduated from high school, Father had given me the keys to a two-bedroom condo (one room for me, one for my bodyguard), located in a high rise just off the strip. He owned the building and controlled the security, but having my own space at least gave me the illusion of freedom while making it clear he expected me to stay in Vegas. There'd be no escaping the future my blood had bought me, but Father had granted me a measure of independence... one he could control, surrounded with people he could trust.

  The building had its perks, one of which was the professionally-equipped gym. Bones took working out seriously, and the minute we stepped out of the locker room he morphed into some sort of fitness Nazi hell-bent on pushing me until I bled or coughed up a lung. But between the cop shooting and my father's shady business associates, I desperately needed to purge my brain, even at the expense of my body. I let him push me for almost two hours before I collapsed into the Jacuzzi, sore muscles sizzling as they hit the water.

  Bones--looking no worse for the wear--strutted toward the pool and dove in. I waved him off, giving him my blessing to swim laps like some demented Olympic hopeful while I recuperated. I wanted to head upstairs, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week, but I had obligations. The twins would never forgive me if I bailed on them, and Bones had plans for us to go club hopping afterward.

  Cold water splattered on my face, and then the level of the Jacuzzi raised over my chin. "You almost ready?" Bones asked, sitting across from me.

  "Ready for what?" I asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. We had at least an hour and a half before we had to leave.

  "Costume shopping."

  I sure as hell wasn't wearing a costume. "Bones, today's Halloween. I doubt there's going to be anything left."

  He climbed out of the Jacuzzi and walked toward his bag. "That's a chickenshit answer if I ever heard one. You know I got connections. Matter of fact, my friend Angela runs a costume shop, and she's been sending me pictures of their remaining inventory for the past hour. They got all kinds of shit left."

  Bones had friends who did everything. The man was as connected as the goddamn Internet. He rustled through his bag, grabbed his phone, and headed back over. "Think I'll go as Sexy Zorro this year. What do you think?"

  He positioned his phone in front of my face, flooding my vision with the image of a man dressed in black, shirt unlaced down to his navel, spandex tights that showed way more than I wanted to see. His hat and mask covered more than his outfit did. I smacked the phone away.

  "You know I can't unsee that shit, right?"

  He laughed.

  "And we're taking the twins trick-or-treating first? I don't think they're old enough for Sexy Zorro. Hell, I'm not old enough."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll keep it G-rated for the kids, but after we drop them back home all bets are off."

  "I got an idea. I can go as a responsible man taking his younger siblings out before babysitting his best friend all night," I suggested.

  "That look is tired; you wear it all the time," Bones whined. "Live a little."

  "I dressed up last year," I reminded him.

  Bones and I had dressed as old school mobsters, complete with fedoras, cigars, and Tommy guns. My parents had both laughed at the sight and, to be honest, the getup had been kind of fun.

  "Those were some outfits." He smiled, tossing me a towel. "We gotta do even better this year." He cocked his head and a wide grin spread across his face. "I think I know just the thing."

  "Uh oh. That doesn't sound good," I said.

  Bones threw back his head and laughed. "You're right, it's not good. It's great. We are going to look so badass!"

  Since badass was much better than sexy, I swallowed back a grimace and followed Bones to the locker room, wondering what the hell he was up to.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Angel

  SURPRISING MY FAMILY was no small feat since they lived in a goddamn gated fortress. First, I had to convince the gate guards to let me in without announcing me. They thoughtfully radioed ahead and asked the property guards not to shoot us on sight. There was a good chance that my old man was listening in on his radio, but that couldn't be helped.

  When we reached the door, I rang the bell and turned my back on the security cameras. Bones and I wore matching black outfits: pants tucked into combat boots, jackets with official crests on the arm under Kevlar vests that marked us as "Police" on the front and "SWAT" on the back. "SWAT" caps hid our faces, and realistic-looking squirt guns were holstered at our hips, and billy clubs were dangling at our hips. In addition, the numerous pockets of our pants were stuffed with handcuffs, rubber gloves, and enough silly string to cover the entire city of Las Vegas. I had no clue where Bones had gotten the costumes, but I was fairly certain they were authentic, and I couldn't wait to see my father's reaction.

  I spun around as the door opened, a little afraid I
'd get shot if I didn't show my face immediately. The old man stood in the doorway with a security guard hot on his heels. His eyes widened as he looked from me to Bones, and then back to me. Then he slapped his leg, threw back his head, and laughed harder than I'd ever heard him laugh before. The security guard eyed Bones and me, with one hand on the gun in his pocket. Then he must have recognized us, because he chuckled and shook his head appreciatively.

  "Al! Come look at these pigs on my doorstep!" Father shouted, sliding aside and waving for Cousin Alberto.

  My grandmother's cousin, Alberto, hobbled over to the door, took one look at us, and practically spit out his dentures.

  "That's the best thing I've ever seen," he said, when he could finally breathe again. "You've gotta get a picture of this, Dom."

  Still chuckling, Father disappeared for a few moments and then reappeared with a camera around his neck.

  "Those are some costumes," he said. "Looks like the real thing. Where'd you get them?"

  I held my hands up. "Don't look at me. This was all Bones's idea."

  "I know a guy," Bones said with a shrug.

  "Those guns real?" Cousin Alberto asked, pointing at my holster.

  I drew my plastic weapon, spun it around my index finger, and then proceeded to water the potted plant next to the door. This only made them laugh harder.

  Cousin Alberto shook his head. "The guys aren't gonna believe this. Dom, you gotta get a picture of me with these clowns."

  Father had his security guard snap a variety of pictures: Me and Bones arresting Cousin Alberto and Father, us about to beat them with our billy clubs, and them stealing our guns and squirting us. Father was still chuckling when my seven-year-old little sister, Luciana, came around the corner wearing a long, frilly purple dress.

  "Wow! Look at you!" Father scooped her up in his arms and kissed her forehead. "The most beautiful princess I've ever seen."

  "Where's your wand?" I asked.

  She grinned, opening the little purse draped over her shoulder. "I don't have a wand. I have throwing stars." She flashed me a handful of plastic toy weapons. "Mamma says a princess needs to be able to protect herself and wands are stupid."

  I laughed. Yep, that sounded exactly like something Mamma would say.

  "I do have glass slippers, though," she said, showing me her feet. "Girls have to look good when they fight."

  "Better not lose them," I warned. "If some guy shows up on the doorstep with your shoe, he's gonna be eating it. You know that, right?"

  She giggled. "Boys are gross, Angel."

  "Damn right they are."

  "Where's Georgie?" Father asked Luciana.

  "Here, Daddy!" her twin, Georgio, said, strutting down the stairs, dressed in a breastplate over a tunic with chain mail sleeves and waving a long plastic sword. His black pants were tucked into fur-lined boots, and on his head he wore a helmet with what looked like a spear point coming out of the top and some sort of winged emblem on the front.

  "Angel!" He shouted, jumping the last few steps then running to greet me. "Can you guess who I am?"

  My little brother was a history buff, who loved stories of old warriors and their battles. This was his second year dressing as Genghis Kahn.

  "Great costume, Georgie," I said. "You look even better than last year. Where's everyone else?"

  Last year my sisters Sonia and Sofia had dressed as storm troopers, and I couldn't wait to see what costumes they'd chosen this year.

  "Dante is out with friends, and Sonia and Sofia think they're goddamn grown." Father gave Luciana one last kiss on the cheek before passing her to me. "They're at some dance their school is putting on."

  Sonia and Sofia were thirteen and eleven, and I wouldn't be surprised if my old man had locked them both up in chastity belts. "You let them go to a dance? With boys?"

  He ran a hand through his hair, clearly stressed at the idea. "Hell no. They went with girlfriends, your mom, and four of my guards. Any of those little middle school perverts so much as lay a hand on them, they'll be pulling back a stump."

  "Boys need to keep their hands to themselves," Luciana informed me.

  "Beautiful and wise, just like your mother," Father said. "Now get the hell out of here. I've got work to do."

  Bones grabbed Georgio. Their booster seats had been loaded into my Hummer, so we strapped them in while a black SUV idled behind us. The driver--Georgio's bodyguard--rolled down his window and waved to let me know they were ready. I had Bones, and the twins each had their own bodyguards. Some would call my old man paranoid for all the security, but I'd seen enough shit to know it was necessary. Father would do anything for his family, and there were lots of sick mother-fuckers out there who would use that against him.

  Going door-to-door could potentially be dangerous, so instead we took the twins to the Halloween carnival at their private school. We chased them around as they tossed bean bags, hula hooped, jumped-rope, raced, and fished for prizes. Our costumes and the guards standing behind us earned us some strange looks, but for the most part, people left us alone. We were watching Georgio and Luciana compete in the cake walk when Bones nudged my arm and nodded at a pint-sized Batman and Spiderman who had their heads together, whispering and scoping us out.

  "Couple of wannabes?" Bones asked.

  "Man, I hope not."

  A variety of stories had been spread about my family. Some of which glorified the mafia lifestyle, focusing on the shit we had rather than the shit we had to do to get and hold onto it. Sometimes disillusioned kids who lacked parental guidance caught whiff of these stories and decided they wanted to be mobsters.

  Batman saw us watching him and nodded like he knew us. Then, with Spidey in tow, he strutted over in his two-hundred-dollar sneakers. The duo stopped right in front of us and waited. I pretended not to notice them, returning my attention to my siblings on the cakewalk.

  "Hey," Batman said, leaning against the wall beside me.

  I wasn't about to encourage whatever visions of mob life grandeur the kid had, so I didn't respond.

  "Hey," he said again, inching closer. "Cool costume."

  Bones cleared his throat and stepped forward, crossing his arms and standing with his feet apart.

  I glanced at the kid. He looked at Bones and swallowed, but didn't back down. Focusing back on me, he asked, "You Luci and Georgie's brother?"

  "Yeah. Do I know you, kid?"

  He nodded. "I'm Tanner. Tanner Michaels. My dad helps your dad out sometimes."

  Spiderman snickered.

  I frowned. Some idiot associated with my father had been stupid enough to discuss business in front of his child. And like most children, Tanner clearly had a big mouth. Michaels. I couldn't place the name, but would have to mention it to the old man. Could be the kid was lying altogether, but I'd have to make sure. Focusing back on the problem at hand, I shrugged and asked, "So?"

  That seemed to burst Tanner's bubble a little. He took a step back and glanced around. "Just thought I'd say hi," he replied.

  The last thing I needed was some punk kid following me around trying to be a wiseguy. I crossed my arms and looked down at him. "Yeah? Well, you said it. Now get lost."

  Tanner and his buddy stood stunned for a full ten seconds before scurrying off like they suddenly had someplace to be.

  "You know who his dad is?" I asked Bones.

  Bones pulled out his phone and tapped the screen to life. "Nope. But I'm about to find out."

  "Good." Any father who'd knowingly put his kid (and our family) in danger just to look cool deserved whatever punishment my old man decided to dish out.

  After we took the twins home, we made a drop for my old man and headed home. My condo was a beautiful prison, complete with earthy tones of bamboo flooring, granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, custom leather furniture, bold crimson curtains framing floor-to-ceiling windows, all with a view facing the lights of the strip. Every inch of the space was designed and furnished to remind me of my position as
heir, in line to reign over the city through force and wealth.

  Still, it was the only place I felt like I could really relax.

  "Are you sure you wanna go out?" I asked Bones. "Shit's gonna be crazy out there tonight."

  He poured himself a glass of water. "That's exactly why I want to go out. This city is your goddamn birthright. You gotta be out there protecting it."

  "Right." I couldn't help but chuckle. Ask a wiseguy a question and get a wise-ass answer.

  The envelope in my jacket pocket had cost thirty grand, and I had no idea what was in it. I stashed it in the safe in my closet and we headed out again. Bones navigated as I drove us to the club he'd selected. The line was halfway down the block by the time we arrived.

  "How do we want to play this," I asked. Being a Mariani did come with privileges, one of which being that lines were inconsequential.

  "I got it." Bones pulled out his cell phone and started dialing. "Just park in the back."

  After I parked, Bones led us to a back door. He knocked out a tune and a short, sexy Catwoman let us in and escorted us to a table in the VIP section. She pulled two capped beer bottles from her apron, setting them before us. As she walked away, Bones inspected the bottles before opening them himself. He took a sip of my beer, and then waited a few seconds before passing it to me.

  I hated this ritual. It made me feel like wannabe royalty, but Father had enforced it the day my grandmother's cousin, Allessio, was poisoned in his own home. I was ten at the time, but I still remember the fear in my mom's eyes as she pulled me into her kitchen and began teaching me how to cook. Ever since, whatever I don't prepare myself is tasted by Bones. And he doesn't give a single fuck about whether or not it's bottled.

  As we settled in with our beers, a group of belly dancers drifted closer, rolling their bodies as they watched us over their colorful sheer veils. There were always beautiful girls in the VIP lounge, trying to snag a man of power and means. I'd taken several to a hotel, but never home, and never for more than a night. Bones elbowed me and pointed out a curvy redhead. She was pretty, but all I could think about was Markie, the courageous, dimpled blonde from the airport. I couldn't see her in a place like this, dancing to attract the eye of a potential sugar daddy.