Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) (26 page)

I pocketed my phone and squeezed Markie a little closer, knowing our precious moments together were slipping away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Angel

W
E MADE IT back to the suite. Since Markie was already ready to go, she lay on the sofa with a pillow over her head while Bones and I packed our things. My phone rang again, this time with an unknown number. I closed the door to my room and turned on the television before answering.

“Hey, Angel. This is Bruno.”

Bruno was the eldest son of Adamo, my father’s sworn enemy and the boss of the Pelino family. We’d never exchanged phone numbers. In fact, I could have happily gone through life without ever hearing his voice. If Bruno was reaching out to me, shit was about to get serious.

“How’d you get my number?” I asked. I’d gone through a lot of work to make sure the only people who called me were those I wanted to hear from.

Bruno snickered. “We got a new tech guy. Might even be better than you.”

It was a compliment, kind of. “What do you want?” I asked.

“You enjoying your little vacay with that pretty little blonde?” Bruno asked.

Of course he knew about Markie, because my day needed one more issue. “She’s a nice girl, but just a friend. An innocent.”

“Oh? Did she like my present?”

It took my brain a second to figure out what the hell he was talking about. The roses. They had to be from Bruno. The bastard had someone break into her room to leave her flowers. A warning. My blood ran cold at the thought.

“I left her alive and untouched, Angel. Remember that.”

I had no reply, so I glanced at my phone. The built-in tracer was already busy tracking Bruno’s location. I needed to keep him talking, but preferably not about Markie. Not unless I wanted to stroke out right there in the hotel room. “All right, Bruno, cut the bullshit and tell me why you’re following me.”

He chuckled again. “Following you? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think? San Diego’s a beautiful city. Bountiful, too. Lots of establishments in need of representation.”

“May your endeavors be ever prosperous,” I replied.

“Heh. You’re a respectful guy, Angel. I like you.”

Another compliment.
Why? What’s your game, Bruno?

“You seem to know how to keep your mouth shut and stay in the shadows,” Bruno said.

I shrugged. “I create useful things. No talking, no spotlight.”

“So I hear. I also hear you and the old man aren’t exactly close, am I right?”

Anyone who spent five minutes with me and the old man would realize we didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye, but Bruno made it sound like he had eyes on the inside. My feathers effectively ruffled, I replied, “Everyone has daddy issues these days.” It was no secret that Bruno and Adamo butted heads like mountain goats.

“Yeah, I like you, Angel. You’re smart. Got your ear to the ground. Bet you already know there’s a few people on the spot. I hear that if you keep your head down, you’ll make it through this just fine.”

There were hits being made and Bruno was going out of his way to warn me.
Why?

“You should have my location by now. Don’t worry, I left you a present, too. You’re welcome.” Bruno disconnected the call.

I glanced at my phone as the software I’d customized zeroed in on the exact location the call was made from. I sucked in a breath as the dot materialized. He’d made the call from right outside the hotel.

By the time I returned to the living room area, Markie was passed out on the couch. I went into Bones’s room and gave him the rundown on my conversation with Bruno.

“Gift?” Bones asked. “What gift?”

I didn’t know, but I had a hunch. “We need to scan the Hummer before we leave.”

We left Markie asleep in the suite and carried the luggage to the parking garage. Easing toward the vehicle, I pulled out the device scanner and went to work. The scanner picked up a small, unknown device under the engine.

“Want me to get it?” Bones asked.

As my bodyguard, it was his duty. But we both knew I had a better chance of keeping the thing from exploding.

“No, man, I got this.”

I handed him the scanner, got on my back, and slid under the front of the car. Sure enough, a bomb was attached to the undercarriage. It wasn’t even a good bomb. In fact, I’d bet money the cheap piece of shit I stared up at had been sold by the wiseguys Bones and I had picked up from the airport. Since I’d seen the specs, I knew the bomb had sensors connected to the doors. I’d also seen how to disarm it. The Pelinos had to know I had this information. Did they think I was stupid? And why the hell would Bruno warn me?

“Sloppy piece of shit,” I muttered, cursing the bomb, its makers, and the whole Pelino family for that matter.

“Can you get it?” Bones asked.

“Yeah. This is… this is bullshit.” My tools were in the Hummer. Since I couldn’t open any of the doors without exploding the vehicle, I whipped out the pocket knife I kept strapped around my ankle and cut the sensor wire. Then I severed the rest of the connections and pried the piece of shit from my engine. I climbed out from under the Hummer, gently handing the bomb to Bones.

Bones held it as far away from his body as possible. I climbed into the back of the Hummer and he handed it back to me. I disassembled the rest of it while Bones loaded up the luggage. Then we stashed the bomb in my bag.

Bones stayed with the vehicle while I went back for Markie. She was out cold, making me wonder what was in the drugs she’d taken. I half carried her back to the Hummer, belted her into the passenger’s seat so I could keep an eye on her, and then we got the hell out of there. I don’t think I breathed until the lights of San Diego faded from my rearview mirror.

Markie slept and Bones and I sat in silence, both of us keeping watch for a tail. I stole glances at Markie, wondering what to do about her. I tried to imagine her in my apartment, and with my family, but couldn’t. The disassembled bomb in the back of the Hummer tugged at my thoughts, reminding me of how selfish I’d been to put her in harm’s way to begin with. Scenarios of her opening a car door and triggering an explosion played in my mind. I forced myself to see every one of them, hoping they would change my mind. Hoping they would somehow give me the strength to push her away. Instead, I reached down and laced my fingers in hers. She stirred, but didn’t wake.

I could always tell her. I could come clean about my family and let her decide her own future.

But knowledge about my family would only put her in greater danger. I needed to process, weigh my options, and figure out what the hell to do.

An hour from Las Vegas, Markie woke up.

“Hey, how you feeling?” I asked. Her skin had returned to its normal sun-tanned hue and her eyes were once again bright and lively.

She stretched. “Much better, thanks. My head still hurts, but it’s manageable now.”

Her stomach growled.

“Hungry?” I asked.

“Yeah, lunch…” She rubbed her stomach. “…didn’t exactly stay down. I can just whip up something when I get home, though. Do you cook?”

Now she was speaking my language. “Do I cook? Damn, girl. I’m a chef.”

“You went to culinary school?”

“Let’s not get crazy. I didn’t need to go to school for it. It’s in my blood.”

“So, your parents cook?” she asked.

A memory surfaced in the back of my mind. My mother picked me up and set me on the counter. The Temptations song “I Can’t Get Next to You” blared through the house’s sound system and Mom danced around the kitchen, tossing ingredients onto the counter for her widely-acclaimed marinara sauce. Garlic bread roasted in the oven while she dropped homemade ravioli into a pot of boiling water. She picked up a wire whisk and used it as a microphone, singing to me as I laughed. I held onto the moment, nurturing it, encouraging it to grow. Instead, it faded, leaving behind a hollow ache.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Bones slept, leaning against the window.

“My mother could have put every Italian restaurant in Vegas out of business, but she was content to stay home and cook for our family,” I replied. “I have all her old recipes. Every time I use them, it’s like she’s not gone, you know?” I shook my head, wondering why I was confiding all of this to Markie. I’d never told anyone. Not even Bones. “I know that sounds stupid.”

Markie patted my arm. “No it doesn’t. I get it. It’s like a pencil drawing you’re always darkening to keep it from fading. But no matter how much you trace the lines, they keep losing their sharpness. You wake up one morning and can’t quite remember her laugh, or the lines of her mouth when she’s upset at you for breaking her favorite vase. Then even the memory of her sorrow is precious.”

Her words evoked another flashback. It was late, and I was supposed to be in bed. Something was wrong, though. I crept down the darkened stairs, holding the railing to steady my steps. Mom sat on the couch with a newspaper in her hands, sobbing. I knelt on the stairs and clung to the railing, knowing I shouldn’t interrupt her and wondering what could have affected her like this. The memory swirled around me, and suddenly I stood in front of an ornate wooden casket, holding my father’s hand as family surrounded us. Father gave me a rose and pointed to the casket.

“Angel?” Markie asked, pulling me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes were full of compassion, making me wonder how much of the memory showed on my face. My eyes burned. I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded.

She patted my arm again. Then she grabbed my free hand. Our fingers laced together. She gave my hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at me. Warmth rushed up my arm and soothed the pain the memory had brought. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone truly understood me. Only, how could she? There was so much about me she didn’t know. And if she ever found out, she definitely wouldn’t be smiling at me like that.

“Am I taking you to your sister’s?” I asked, desperate to hide myself once again.

“Let me check.” She released my hand and pulled her phone out of her purse.

I missed the contact, and immediately regretted asking the question.

She sent off a text, and then a few moments later her phone buzzed.

“Ari’s working. Any chance you can run me by the Tropicana so I can get the key to her apartment?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” I replied.

“What does she do at the Tropicana?” Bones asked, leaning into the conversation. I wasn’t sure when he’d woken up. Curious, I glanced into the rearview mirror, but he didn’t look at me.

Markie turned in her seat. “She waits tables at the restaurant just inside the front door. Not exactly what she came to Vegas to do, but it’s a job.”

“She come to be a showgirl or something?” Bones asked.

“Not exactly. She wants to sing.”

“Like everyone else in Vegas,” Bones groaned.

“You don’t understand, she has a phenomenal voice. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my sister. She’s really talented, Bones. Matt was supposed to set her up with some auditions, but…”

“But Matt’s a
chooch
.”

Markie arched an eyebrow.

“A loser,” I clarified. Not quite what it meant, but close enough.

We stopped by the Tropicana, Markie got the keys from Ariana, and then we drove to their apartment. Bones and I helped Markie with her luggage, and Bones checked the apartment for intruders.

“You guys want something to eat?” Markie asked, heading for the kitchen. “I’m gonna make myself a grilled cheese.”

We declined. I would have loved to hang out and let Markie make us sandwiches, but Father would be keeping track of our progress. I didn’t want him to see the Hummer parked in front of her building for too long. While she was in the kitchen I scanned the apartment, finding it clean of any unexpected devices. Bones slipped out the door to give us some privacy.

Markie filled the sink with soapy water and started dumping dishes in while her sandwich was grilling.

She spun around and leaned against the counter, looking up at me. “This was the best weekend of my life. Thank you, Angel.”

She tugged a rubber band off her wrist and put her hair up into a messy bun. Little wisps escaped the sides and fell back against her cheeks. She blew them out of her face and dumped a few more dishes into the sink.