Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) (21 page)

Roses. Angel had gotten me roses. They were beautiful and it was a sweet gesture, but I was crazy-allergic to the flowers. Making a mental note to text him and tell him of my allergy when I was out of the bath, I sank down and let lavender scented bubble bath take me to my happy place while the jets worked out the tension in my back. I melted into a puddle of goo until my stupid brain kicked into hyper-drive and started cycling through the pesky questions my subconscious had been storing up about Angel.

Free hotel rooms? Why?

That manager… what was up with him? So weird.

Bones said Angel was his boss. Angel works in technology. Did Bones ever tell me what he does?

What do I really know about them?

Angel was a Mariani. Bones called him a Mariani outside of the Cajun dive, and the kid’s reaction had been full of fear and a strange sort of reverence. Ariana’s reaction had been different.

Why?

I reached for my phone and turned off the jets, pulling up a browser to research the name. There was nothing online about D’Angelo Mariani in Las Vegas. No social media, no contact information, no school achievements, nothing. I did find a few articles on the Mariani family, though. They were apparently among the rich and powerful, sponsoring Christmas toy drives, funding a wing of a local hospital as well as an addition to a Catholic church. Nothing nefarious. But a family that wealthy had to have some clout.

The kind of clout that got free hotel rooms and terrified kids?

Still confused, I called Ariana, hoping she’d be more helpful than she’d been at the diner.

“Tell me everything you know about the Mariani family?” I blurted out the second she answered.

“Hi, I’m good. How are you? How’s your trip? Did you get to San Diego okay? Weren’t you supposed to call when you arrived?” Ariana asked.

“Sorry. I have a lot on my mind. We made it. The hotel is gorgeous, and I’m lounging in a jetted tub right now. How are you?”

“Dreaming I was lounging in a jetted tub, thank you very much. And like I said, Mariani is one of the Las Vegas family names.”

“Like there’s a family in Vegas with the last name of Mariani?”

“Not quite.”

“What do you mean, not quite?” I asked.

“Look, Markie, I don’t know much about the families. It’s not like people hand out pamphlets on them or anything. Working at the restaurant, I’ve heard things. I don’t know how much of it’s true and how much is gossip.”

“Okay.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, giving the call my full attention. “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

Over the next several minutes, my sister gave me a rundown on what she’d heard about a handful of powerful families who basically ran the city. When she was finished, I let it all sink in before asking, “And the Mariani family is one of
the
families?”

“Yes.”

“Are they bad? I mean do they do illegal stuff?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. Nobody messes with them, though. Anyone associated with the family is… it’s like they’re protected. Almost like they’re royalty. You think Angel and Bones are with the Mariani family?”

“That’s what Bones told that kid outside of the Cajun restaurant. Didn’t you hear him?”

“No. I was too busy freaking out about the possibility of my sister getting shot or stabbed. But if Bones said it, it’s gotta be true. Nobody would be stupid enough to claim a family unless they were really in.”

“You hear a lot, Ari.”

“Yeah. I guess having parents who worked for the justice system affected me too. Damn it.”

I laughed. “I feel your pain, sis. Why do you think I can’t just sit back and enjoy this tub?”

Ariana sighed. “You know, there are a lot of douche bags in Vegas. Trust me on this one. Working at the restaurant, I’ve met several.”

I resisted the urge to remind her that she’d been dating the biggest one of them all.

“But Angel and Bones are different.”

“You said they were dangerous,” I reminded her.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call from Angel but I sent it to voice mail.

“Yeah, but not to you. Have you seen the way Angel looks at you? Like you’re some sort of goddess or something. It makes me want to hurl.”

I giggled. “Why, thank you.”

“Seriously, though, why can’t you enjoy the weekend and let him worship you? Why do you have to over think everything? What does your gut tell you about the guy?”

My gut kept reminding me that Angel had saved Ariana’s life, rescued me from possible jail time, put Max up for a night at a motel, and played basketball with Myles and his crew. All of those memories made my eyes sting and my chest swell.

Fighting the feeling, I replied, “He tried to pay for my hotel room.”

Ariana gasped. “That asshole!”

I laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I see your point.”

“Markie, you aren’t afraid of anything. You’re afraid of this guy because you like him and it’s—”

“And it’s complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated. Stop trying to simplify it and just relax and enjoy yourself for one weekend.”

Sometimes my little sister could be very wise. Annoyingly so. I promised to take her advice to relax, hung up, and started making plans. I opened my phone’s browser and searched for local restaurants and events. An ad for an authentic Mexican restaurant with a live mariachi band and dance floor caught my attention. They didn’t take reservations, but I bookmarked the website and climbed out of the tub to get ready.

I still had my bathrobe on when a loud knock sounded on my door. Angel’s face greeted me through the peephole, so I cracked the door and smiled at him. Then I caught a whiff of the roses and pointed at them. “Can you please move those?” Another sneeze. “They’re beautiful.” Sneeze. “And thank you for them.” Sneeze. “But I’m allergic.”

He was breathing heavily, like he’d sprinted up the stairs. He looked from me to the flowers and his features tightened. I’d discarded his gift and made him angry.

“Sorry. They really are pretty. I love them, I just can’t—” Another sneeze.

“No.” Angel shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s… I didn’t send you flowers.” He picked up the vase, ran it down the hall and gently set it in the garbage can by the elevator. When he returned, his forehead was creased with lines of worry.

“If they weren’t from you, they’re probably from the hotel.” There was no reason anyone else would be sending me flowers. Another sneeze. He seemed so upset, I tried to reassure him. “It’s really nice of them.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Okay, well I’m gonna finish getting ready for dinner. Oh, and Angel, don’t make any plans. I’ve got tonight, okay?”

His brows scrunched together. “You’ve got tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ve planned out the whole thing. I’m taking you and Bones to dinner, and you’re going to love it.”

“Where?” He didn’t look like he liked the idea even a little bit.

Another sneeze. Desperate to get away from the lingering allergens, I motioned him into the room and grabbed my phone. Then I pulled up the browser and handed it to him.

He frowned at the screen. “A Mexican restaurant?”

“Yes. Well, dinner and dancing.” I knew he liked to dance, so I thought he’d be happy. His expression told me otherwise. “What’s wrong? If you don’t like Mexican food, I can find something else.”

“No, no, Mexican’s good. Nice picture,” he said, handing me back my phone.

I glanced at my screen. African children smiled back at me. “Thanks. I keep it as the background to help me remember my time there.”

His shoulders relaxed a little. “You have any more photos from your trip? I’d like to see them sometime.”

“I’d like that, too. Unfortunately my camera was stolen somewhere along the flight. It was tucked away in my checked bag, but by the time I unpacked at Ariana’s, it was gone.”

“You lost all of them? Do you have any more phone pictures?”

“No. I had a great camera. I used it for everything.” Now it was my turn to frown. Wondering why it felt like he was pumping me for information, I asked, “Is everything all right?”

Before he could answer, his cell phone rang. He turned away from me and spoke into it.

“Yeah, she’s here. Okay. Be right there.”

“Angel, what’s wrong?” I asked.

He waved me off with a hand. “Just work stuff. Don’t worry about it. I need to help Bones out with something. Get dressed. I’ll be back in a while and we’ll go. Okay?” He walked out the door without waiting for my response.

Sure. Now that I was ready to let loose and have fun, Angel was brooding and weird. Just my luck. Feeling baffled and more than a little irritated by his odd behavior, I sat on the sofa and turned on my phone. Then I clicked open the browser to see if something about the restaurant had set him off. My search on the Mariani family came up. He must have hit the back arrow and saw it. Now he knew I was checking into him.

But why would that irritate him?

No, it had to be more than that. But since I had no answers, I did the only thing I could do and got dressed.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Angel

B
Y THE TIME I returned to the suite I shared with Bones, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound weight lifter Bones had hired to keep an eye on Markie was coming to. He sat slouched on the sofa, holding an ice pack to his head.

Bones stood against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. “Angel, this is Jamie Matthews.”

I extended my hand to the blond. “Thanks for taking this on last minute. Sorry about the head, man. What happened?”

“Bones here sent me a picture of the girl you wanted me to watch. When I got here, I saw her in the lobby having it out with the girl at the front desk.”

“Markie?” I asked, certain I’d misunderstood. “What do you mean by ‘having it out’?”

“She was trying to get her room charged to her card. The manager showed up and that chick threatened to pack up and leave if they didn’t reverse the charges and put them on her card. Never seen someone so insistent on paying for their room.”

I shook my head. “Well, that explains the calls from the hotel. What happened after that?”

“I followed her back to her room. She didn’t see me, but she did seem spooked so I stayed back. I watched her walk into her room, and that’s the last thing I remember. Woke up with Bones shaking me and a hell of a goose egg.”

My mind clung to the one hopeful phrase he’d muttered. “You’re one hundred percent sure Markie didn’t knock you out?” I asked for clarification.

“Couldn’t have been the girl. I saw her walk into her room. Unless she has super speed, she was in her room when I got hit,” Jamie insisted.

“Yeah, but it could be someone working with her,” Bones said. “It all feels a little too convenient.”

I paced the small space between sofa and kitchenette, sifting through the facts. It was too convenient, only it wasn’t. I was the one who approached Markie at the restaurant the first time we met. Someone would have had to place her at the restaurant, and then at Matt’s, and then outside of the Stratosphere. The locations were random, not exactly places I visited on any particular schedule. Only a handful of people knew about them, and Bones had dragged me to Matt’s in a last-minute decision to bust the guy’s face in. Nobody could have known we’d see Matt at the club and go there.

And the roses.

I called the hotel front desk, but they assured me that no flowers had been delivered to Markie’s room or any other room yet that day. Frustrated, I continued to pace. Why would Markie have roses—which she was clearly allergic to—delivered to her own hotel room? Nothing made sense.

Still, I couldn’t pretend Markie looked squeaky clean. She’d been checking into my family on her phone! We had less than fifteen minutes before we were supposed to leave for dinner and I didn’t know what to do. If Markie was dirty, and we went to the restaurant she’d selected, it could be a trap. If Markie was dirty and we called off the night and stayed in, she’d know her cover was blown.

And what if she is clean?

Truthfully, it was impossible for me to imagine Markie—homeless-feeding, orphan-serving, dimpled, sweet Markie—as dirty. I didn’t even want to entertain the thought. But her story had holes in it.