Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 2) Read online

  "Markie's tough. She's a baller and she don't take no shit. You? You brought your bodyguard into an orphanage. What are you scared of, rich boy?"

  Bones snickered, and then covered it up with a cough.

  Not about to let some punk kid talk shit to me, I said, "I'm smart, not scared. And how do you know I'm not a baller?"

  He tossed me the ball and shrugged. "Only one way to find out. Prove it."

  I caught the ball and glared at him. Bones's shoulders shook, and I knew my friend was trying not to laugh. Hesitating, I couldn't decide if I should take this kid to the court and kick his ass, or take Markie some flowers and a get-well card.

  "That's what I thought," the kid sneered. "Just another lame-ass stick in a suit."

  That did it. I tilted my head toward Bones and asked, "What do you think? We got time to straighten this kid out?"

  Bones removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He flexed and cracked his neck. Then he leveled a stare at the kid and said, "There's always time to teach manners." He stepped forward.

  The kid's eyes bugged out.

  Hiding my laugh, I held out a hand to stop Bones. "Save it for the court, big guy. Where is your court anyway?"

  The kid pointed to the north side of the building. "That way."

  "Cool. Bathroom?" I asked.

  Still keeping an eye on Bones, the kid pointed in the opposite direction. "Down that hall. First door on the right."

  I tossed him the ball. "Go find a few of your little friends and meet us in the gym in ten minutes."

  "But you're wearing suits."

  "Don't worry about it. Not your problem." We had gym clothes in the Hummer so we could work out as soon as we got home.

  The kid didn't move.

  "You look scared," Bones said. "What's wrong? Your mouth writin' checks your game can't cash?"

  "Just thinkin' we should make this interesting. Let's talk stakes. What's in it for me when we wipe the floor with your tired old asses?"

  Tired old asses?

  Bones was trying to keep a straight face, and failing miserably.

  Trying to get into business mode without him, I crossed my arms and eyed the kid. "What do you want?"

  "If I win, you take me and my friends to play paintball."

  "Paintball?" I asked. "You sure you're old enough for that?"

  He snickered. "Yeah. I'm good."

  "Okay, I'll bite, but what do I get if we win?"

  The kid eyed me for a minute longer before answering, "I'll put in a good word for you with Markie."

  Bones coughed.

  I almost swallowed my tongue. It took me a minute to recover, and then I asked, "What makes you think I need a good word with Markie?"

  He blinked. "How dumb do you think I am?"

  "You tell me."

  "I could call her right now. I got her phone number."

  My jaw dropped.

  "Ah, you want her number, huh? I'll give it to you if you can take us on the court."

  I seriously considered beating the little punk and taking it from him. "Markie and I are tight. If I wanted her number, I'd ask her for it," I lied.

  He laughed. "Uh-huh, sure. Markie's been in this city all of ten minutes and she comes here lookin' to help us out. Then you and your bodyguard come strollin' in askin' for her. I bet you lived here your whole life and you never thought about volunteering at no orphanage. You're tryin' to get that ass."

  The casual way he sexualized Markie pissed me off. I tensed. "You better watch your mouth and stop talking about her like that. It's disrespectful."

  He raised his hands in defense. "Okay man, chill. We got a deal or not?"

  Oh yeah, I wanted to get the little punk on the court. "Fine, kid, you got a deal." I held my hand out.

  He slapped it. "The name's Myles."

  Besides being observant, Myles was a phenomenal basketball player, especially for someone barely over four feet tall. We played street ball, first team to twenty-one won. He and his little gang of pocket-sized thugs were all over me and Bones from the instant our sneakers hit the court. The four young boys had at least thirty elbows between them, and each one ended up in my ribs at least twice. By the time we reached the second half, Bones and I were sweating harder than we ever did working out. We barely eked out a win, beating them by two points.

  Myles tossed me the ball. "Double or nothing?" he asked.

  "How are you going to double giving me Markie's number?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "I'll think of something. I'll give you her number and might even be able to buy you some alone time with her."

  I looked to Bones and he nodded. He wanted another crack at the punk. Myles's team won the second game, but thankfully he couldn't resist the challenge of a third. Bones and I won, and then I met Myles midcourt.

  "Markie's number?" I asked.

  "Hand me your phone. I'll put it in."

  I chuckled. "You must think I was born yesterday. I'm not giving you my phone." I pulled it out of my pocket and started entering a new contact. "Just tell me her number."

  Myles rattled off a seven-oh-two number and I entered it, and then confirmed it aloud.

  "Yeah, that's it. Just don't rat me out for giving it to you," Myles said.

  I had every intention of ratting him out. That was my whole plan for having her number without looking like a stalker.

  Heads down, looking defeated, he and his goons cleared the court. Every muscle in my body was on fire but I held my head high as we walked out of the building and toward the Hummer. Again, I thought about taking Markie flowers and a card, but I was tired and sweaty, so I headed for home instead. Besides, I had her number. I pulled up the contact and dialed, running through opening lines in my head.

  "Vegas Paintballers, David speaking."

  I pulled the phone away and double checked the contact. Yep, that was the number he gave me. Of course, the little shit. I dragged my hand down my face, amazed I could be so gullible.

  "Sorry. I must have the wrong number." I disconnected and threw the phone on the seat.

  Bones started chuckling, and then he threw his head back and broke into a full-on belly laugh. "I can't believe you let that little asshole play you!"

  I flipped him off.

  More laughter.

  "Yeah, yeah," I said, still shaking my head.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Angel

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up to a coded text from my old man. He'd allowed Johnny to pay him off in payments. The stupid son-of-a-bitch had made the first two, but skipped out on the third.

  Sore and stiff, like I'd gone eight rounds in the boxing ring rather than three games of basketball with smart-mouthed juvenile delinquents, I dragged ass to the coffee machine and fired it up. A series of swear words told me Bones wasn't doing much better. He lumbered from his room, stretching and groaning.

  I told him about Johnny while brewing coffee, then filled a couple of to go mugs and headed out for the day.

  Bones called up Tech.

  "Good morning Bones, Angel. How can I help you?" Tech asked.

  He had to be the busiest man I knew; too busy to waste time with things like sleep or small talk.

  "You got a hit on Johnny Dominas's location?" I asked.

  Tech looked down. There was the tap-tap-tap of a keyboard and reflections of changing screens in his glasses. Although I'd never seen his set-up, Father had described it as a wall full of monitors, with which Tech babysat the entire city like the family's own "big brother."

  "He's been staying in a little roach motel off the strip." More clicks. "His car's still in the lot. I'm sending you the address now."

  My GPS started up, telling me to head out of the garage and hang a left.

  "The property site code is heading to your phone now. Room twelve. Do you want me to dispatch a team?"

  My phone buzzed with the incoming information.

  If I needed a team to take down Johnny, I might as well hang
up my suit and guns now. "No. I'll handle it. Thanks for your help." I disconnected and rubbed a hand down my face. My stomach felt sick, and I was pissed at Johnny again.

  "You don't have to take care of this. I can--"

  "Can you wipe my ass for me, Bones? This is my shitstorm and I'll clean it up."

  We rode in silence as I followed my GPS into the parking lot of a gaudy concrete building, painted to resemble gold. A smoke shop and a sex toys retailer were connected to the dump.

  "Classy place," Bones observed, sliding out of the Hummer.

  He opened the back of the vehicle and returned with a handheld machine that could recreate hotel room cards as long as I had the site code, which Tech had sent me. I powered it up and keyed in the site code as Bones released the safety on his gun and slid it back into his pocket. We both slid on gloves before hurrying to room twelve. I inserted a card attached to the machine and waited for it to cycle through possible codes. Seconds later, the lock clicked open. Bones drew his gun as he entered the small dark room.

  The television was on. I peeked around the corner in time to see Bones's shoulders stiffen.

  "Don't move a goddamn muscle," he said, his gun pointed straight out.

  That was my cue. Drawing my own piece, I stepped around him and entered the room. Johnny was sitting in bed, leaning back against the headboard. His gaze cut to me and his eyes rounded.

  "Angel, you're here for the money? Good. Good. I've got most of it. Just not quite all of it. It's right here in this--"

  "I said don't fuckin move!" Bones said, closing the distance between him and Johnny.

  Johnny froze.

  No amount of money could help Johnny now. My father had given him a second chance, and he'd blown it. There'd be no third. I grabbed the hotel provided notepad and pen from the top of the dresser and threw it to Johnny. They landed in his lap, and he stared at them like a goddamn fool.

  "Pick up the pen and start writing," I said.

  "But--"

  "Pick up the fucking pen!" Bones shouted.

  Swallowing, Johnny did as he was told.

  "You're gonna write a suicide note." I started looking for his gun.

  "Angel--"

  "First, apologize to your mom for being such a disappointing fuckin' leech. Make her believe that in the end you were at least remorseful for the shit you've pulled."

  He stared at me.

  "Start writing," Bones snapped.

  Lowering his head, Johnny's hands shook as he scrawled across the notepad. By the time I found his piece in the nightstand, tears were running down his face. The son-of-a-bitch couldn't even die like a man. Disgusted, I gripped the gun and waited.

  Johnny looked up at me. "Okay."

  I read over what he'd written and nodded. "End with I'm sorry, but I can't live with the shit I've done anymore."

  Hand shaking even worse now, he finished up the note. I read over it again. Satisfied, I had him set it and the pen on the night stand. Then, I positioned his hand on the trigger of his gun and held it up to the side of his head. The bastard tried to resist, but his scrawny little arms couldn't do shit about it.

  Looking him in the eyes, I said, "Pull the fuckin' trigger."

  When he didn't I slid my finger behind his and squeezed. There was a loud bang, and then Johnny's body went limp.

  Bones checked over the room, finding a wad of bills in the night stand and a few more in Johnny's wallet. He pocketed them all and then gestured toward the door.

  "Let's get out of here."

  My body felt numb, but somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other until I climbed behind the steering wheel. Bones cranked the radio as I drove out of the parking lot. My mind kept replaying the shooting, and I expected to feel... something, but all I felt was numb. It was over. The problem had been dealt with.

  When the fuck did a person become a problem?

  "Where are we going?" Bones asked.

  That's when I realized where I was headed. "The orphanage." My mind... my soul felt so goddamn dark that I needed Markie's bright smile. I had to see her to make sure I could still feel something again. Maybe for a few moments I could flee from my world and escape into hers.

  "All right, man, do what you need to do," Bones replied. "But I checked into her background and--"

  "Is she with another family?" I asked.

  He frowned. "No. It's--"

  "Is she a danger to me or my family?"

  His frown deepened. "Not that I can see, but--"

  "Is it some life-altering shit you need to tell me?"

  Bones snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. "No sir."

  I was being a dick, but it couldn't be helped. After popping off Johnny, I needed something in my life to be untainted. I needed Markie to be someone I could trust.

  We entered the building in time to watch her set a stack of papers on the admittance desk. Her back was turned to us, but I'd know that bang-worthy body anywhere. She wore jeans, a sweater, and sneakers, her hair was up in a messy bun, and it was the sexiest look I'd seen her in yet.

  "Here's the food pantry inventory you asked for. Is there anything else I can do to help?" Markie asked the woman sitting behind the desk.

  "Thank you, no, this is perfect." She gave Markie a quick smile before her attention shifted to me and Bones. "Hello. How can I help you?"

  Markie spun around. She met my gaze and smiled, showing off those dimples that made it hard to keep my dick under control. "Michelle, these are my friends, Angel and Bones."

  "Angel and Bones?"

  "D'Angelo and Franco," I amended. "We're approved to volunteer."

  She looked down, rifling through papers.

  "They were here yesterday," Markie said, her gaze still locked with mine.

  "Here they are," Michelle said, waving the forms in the air. "Yep, you're all good."

  The phone rang. As Michelle answered it, Markie waved for us to follow her and headed down the hall.

  "Are you okay?" she asked, turning to search my face as soon as we were out of earshot from the reception desk.

  Hell no, I wasn't okay. I'd just killed one of my oldest friends. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"

  She grabbed my hand, and it felt like she opened a valve, releasing all the pent-up tension and guilt I felt over Johnny. I don't know what she saw in my face, but it caused her to wrap her arms around me. Her body pressed against me, feeling so damn good I couldn't let go. I breathed in her coconut-scented hair and hung on for dear life. All too soon, she released me.

  "Don't lie to me, Angel."

  "Stressful day," I replied. "I'd like to forget about it."

  She nodded. "Understood. I can help you with that."

  I bet she could.

  "You guys any good at card games?" she asked.

  Not what I'd been hoping for.

  Bones snorted. "We did grow up in Vegas."

  "Good. I heard you met Myles." She watched my face, but I was careful not to give anything away. I only nodded. "Well, he and his friends are setting up a game in the great room. I'm sure he's in there stashing cards right now. I could use some help bringing that little cheater down."

  "Yeah, well cards isn't the only thing that little punk cheats at," Bones said, rubbing his side.

  Markie frowned. "He's a work in progress, but then again, we all are. Speaking of which, we should get in there. Last time I left him and his crew alone, they got into the packing tape and stuck a couple of the bigger kids to the wall."

  She led us down the hall and turned into a room with several mismatched ratty couches. Myles and his crew sat in folding chairs surrounding a scratched-up wooden table. He was hunched over, massaging out his calf muscle, but the second he saw me he sat up straight, crossed his arms, and scowled. Bones snickered.

  "You sore, Myles?" Bones asked, patting the kid on the shoulder, probably a little harder than necessary.

  Wincing, Myles pulled away. "Man, forget you."

  Bones laughed.

  M
arkie joined the boys, sitting at the head of the table.

  "Hey guys. You got room for two more?" I asked.

  Myles kicked an empty chair toward me. I reached out and stopped it before it could slam into my leg.

  Markie shot him a look. "Be nice."

  His scowl only darkened. "Five card draw, fifty dollar buy in," he said.

  Markie cocked her head. "I told you, no gambling. It's a friendly game, no buy in."

  "It'd be a lot friendlier if you'd let us make some money," one of the kids argued.

  Markie stared at him and he ducked his head. "Sorry, Ms. Markie."

  Myles was right. She didn't take shit from anyone. Bones and I sat while Myles dealt. I caught him cheating twice in the first deal alone.

  "How can you tell?" Myles asked, after the second time I called him out.

  "Because you're not very good at it. If you're going to deal yourself extra cards, your dealing has to be seamless. These cards are slick. They slide and one of the edges is going to show. If you're going to cheat, it's easier to do it when you exchange your cards."

  Markie gaped at me. "Are you really giving him tips?" she asked.

  "Someone has to," Bones replied. "He'll end up dead if he pulls that move on the wrong person."

  Markie dropped her head to her hands and her shoulders shook with laughter. She took a moment to compose herself, before glaring us all down. "No gambling and no cheating," she snapped.

  "Of course not," Myles said, holding his hands up.

  Bones won the first game and Markie won the second. The third went to one of Myles's little cronies. I sat back, counted cards, and threw the game to the best of my ability, lest she peg me for a cheater. After all, I still wanted her damn phone number. In the middle of the fourth game, the boys were called to do their chores. They moaned and groaned before throwing in their cards and taking off. Then it was just the three of us.

  Markie pulled out her phone and studied it. Minutes ticked by, thickening the awkward silence that settled over the room. Bones looked at me and his eyebrows rose in question. Then he got up from the table, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and walked down the hall to give us some privacy.

  More awkward silence. I had to break it. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked.