Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Angel

A
FTER BONES AND I made the drop, I wanted to go home and wallow in a guilt-driven mental breakdown, but there was no time. My baby sister was in a ballet recital, and the family would never forgive me if I missed it. We entered the theater and were met by a thin usher, who bowed low before motioning for us to follow him.

“We’ve been here a time or two,” I objected. “We can find our own way.”

“It’s no trouble. I insist, sir.”

His smile was almost as greasy as his hair, and his gaze darted between me and Bones as if he expected us to barge past him with guns blazing. The idiot didn’t understand the way things worked. If violence ever erupted at a child’s event, Father would probably purge the population and start over.

We followed the usher toward the box seats and Bones pressed in beside me, swiveling his head to watch behind us while keeping an eye on the usher. “Want me to set him straight?”

Having had more than enough action for one day, I shook my head.

“Right this way, please,” the usher said, stepping aside and gesturing for us to continue. “Your father is in the center box.”

“We know, since that’s where he always is. Owns the box,” Bones said, watching the usher as I stepped past them both and continued down the hall. Within seconds Bones was back at my side.

“Who does that guy think he is?” he asked. “Where’s the regular guy?”

“Paul?” I asked. Paul was a graying man with a slight limp, who usually greeted us.

“Yeah, Paul. I like that old guy. He knows his place. You’d never catch ol’ Paul watching us like we’re criminals and insisting on walking us in.”

I resisted the urge to remind Bones that we were both packing. “He’s just doing his job.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that he should show a little more respect. We’re grown-ass men. We don’t need to be monitored like a couple of kids.”

We stopped in front of a door with guards on both sides of it. All of Father’s guards wore their dark hair short and came equipped with stocky builds, strong Italian names, and a plethora of weapons stashed in their tailored suits. For the most part, they were related by blood or marriage. My father recruited for our
borgata
—our cozy little crime family— like a model paranoid mastermind. He distrusted anyone he couldn’t trace clear back to Adam, required a minimum of five references, and had a finger on the pulse of the most prized possession of each employee. If the competitive pay and generous benefits packet failed to inspire loyalty, Father made sure he knew what would.

One of the guards announced my arrival into his radio. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, swinging it open and stepping aside.

I followed Bones inside. He walked to the right and put his back against the wall, standing alongside two more of Father’s men. Spicy sausage, garlic, and freshly baked breads scented the air, and classical piano music competed with the chatter and laughter of my family. My heart started to lighten, followed immediately by heavy guilt. It was impossible to celebrate with my family after seeing Officer Hill be ripped away from his.

Georgio, my seven-year-old half-brother, called my name and hurled himself at me. I opened my arms just in time to catch him, and then we staggered backward as I ruffled his dark curls.

He wiggled free, swatting my hands away. “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he complained.

“Oh really? Why’s that, Georgie?” I asked.

“Georgio Augostino,” Georgio’s mother—my stepmother, Rachele—said with a huff. “What have you gone and done with yourself? Just look at you! Jumping around like you’re some sort of monkey.”

She bent down and straightened his tie, adjusted his vest and coat collar, and then started in on his hair.

“Sorry, Rachele. My fault,” I admitted.

My stepmother wore a tight, low-cut black dress that walked the tightrope between classy and trashy. Strung around each wrist she wore diamond tennis bracelets worth more than the average American made in a year. Her dyed red hair was styled up so she could display the giant diamond teardrops hanging from her ears, matching the one around her neck. Her collagen-plumped lips drew into a tight line before she seemed to remember we were in a room full of family and gave me a patronizing smile. She had access to all my father’s money, and still couldn’t buy a heart.

She sighed over Georgio’s appearance and stepped forward to greet me. “Hello, Angel. Good to see you.”

Yeah, right.

The family was watching, though, so I moved in to dutifully kiss her cheek. “Hello, Rachele. I hope you’re well.”

Georgio tugged at my slacks. “Do you like my new suit?”

“You look like a stud, Georgie. You know, you’re the reason I never bring girls home. One look at you, and I’d be chopped liver.”

Georgio blushed. “Yeah right.”

“For real, bro.”

“Mom said I have to watch all of Luci’s boring dance.”

Luciana was Georgio’s twin sister, and when the two weren’t terrorizing the world with all the mischief twins could muster, they were driving each other crazy.

“Well, save me a seat and I’ll join you after I talk to Father. I won’t let you suffer alone. Promise.”

Georgio nodded. “Thanks, Angel. You’re the best.”

He scurried off and Rachele went back to her conversation with Uncle Mario and Aunt Adona, who were long-time business partners of my father’s and not actually related. The trio hovered near the hors d'oeuvres, not far from Father and his brother, Great Uncle Carlo, who spoke in hushed voices beside the wine. Cousins Naldo and Remo sat with my sisters, Sonia and Sofia, playing on their cell phones and seemingly oblivious to the world around them. My brother, Dante, wasn’t among them. Father’s cousin, Alberto, reclined in his seat with his eyes all but closed while Aunt Mona and
Nonna (
my grandmother) fussed over his four-month-old baby, Nina.

Nonna looked up, and frowned at me. “What’s wrong, Angel?” she asked.

She handed Nina off to Aunt Mona and hurried to my side. Barely above five feet tall, Nonna was heavy-set, dark-featured, and made
cannoli
so crispy and sweet it could mend broken bones as well as hearts. And she was the closest thing to a mother I’d ever known.

“I’m fine.
Buonasera
, Nonna,” I said, kissing her cheek.

“Good evening, Grandson,” she replied, returning the gesture. “And don’t lie to me.”

Knowing she wouldn’t relent until I told her something, I said, “Rough day at work. I will be fine, though.”

She glanced in Father’s direction, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she slipped something into my pocket. “I saved you some macaroons, and it’s a good thing. These vultures dove in and attacked the platter the minute I put them out.”

I opened the baggie and popped one of the treats into my mouth, smiling as sugary perfection exploded on my taste buds. “Thanks, Nonna.”

Father called out my name and waved me over. After he greeted me, he gestured for me to check the room. I’d created a device to scan for wires, taps, or anything with the ability to record or transmit audio or video files. I did a quick scan of the room and the readout told me one of my cousins had brought a handheld game to the recital. Each person in the room—even Georgio—had a cell phone, and Uncle Mario was also packing a tablet. There was a device I didn’t recognize in Father’s left shoe. When I pointed it out, a wide grin spread across his face. He clapped me on the shoulder and beamed at his brother.

“You see, Carlo, I told you the boy’s a genius. This new gadget he has can pick up anything.”

I had to stop myself from correcting him as he leaned against the back row of sofas and tugged off his shoe, retrieving the pinky-nail-sized bug hidden inside. Technology evolved constantly, and I didn’t want to mislead anyone into trusting the device to catch everything. Regardless, Father was the type of man you didn’t correct, especially not in front of others.

Uncle Carlo smiled. “He sure is a genius, Dom.”

“Mario, Adona, have I told you about this thing?” Father asked, pointing to the scanner. “I bet it gets more bids than that phone distorter we put out last year.”

The distorter bounced calls around cell towers and providers, taking family communications to a whole different level. It was my first big invention, and the profits from taking it to market had changed the way the family viewed me. I was still the black sheep, but at least I’d found a way to make money off my pastime.

“We always knew you were a bright young man,” Aunt Adona added, her patronizing tone grating on my nerves.

“Yes, we’re all proud of him,” Rachele replied, fake smile once again plastered across her face.

“Excuse us for a moment,” Father said to the group, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. He led me to the corner and draped an arm over my shoulder. “You were late making the drop today.”

A man’s life had ended, and my father was concerned about my tardiness. There was something so messed up about that, I couldn’t even wrap my brain around it. “There were complications beyond my control,” I replied.

“You’re a Mariani, Angel. Nothing is beyond your control.”

Every time I closed my eyes I saw Officer Hill’s body crumple to the ground. Everything was beyond my control. “Tech said we were covered.”

“If you had left on time, you wouldn’t have needed Tech’s assistance. You get so wrapped up in these stupid toys that you neglect your position.”

And there it was… what the old man really thought of my life’s work. He expected me to follow in his footsteps, building the family empire, and although he tolerated my work, he’d never respect it.

“Now, why the hell are you moping around here, making your nonna ask after you?”

“Father, that cop—”

“—was unreasonable. He had to be dealt with.”

“He was clean.”

The old man nodded. “Yes, he was. That’s the problem. This city doesn’t need clean cops, it needs reasonable men and women, interested in keeping the city thriving and families fed. You’re sheltered, Angel. You don’t see what it’s really like out there. Why don’t you use that giant brain of yours to research what’s going on in the rest of the country. Check out Santa Fe, Cheyenne, Bismarck, most of Montana and Utah… cities with over fifty percent unemployment, where families starve to death on their morals. Hell, you think that cop’s family cares that he was clean? Will that keep his wife warm at night or teach his son how to throw a baseball? Will it put food on their table and clothes on their back? This recession has been a bastard, and the minute we turn soft, our business will dry up. Nobody gives more to the people of Las Vegas than our family, and the city will fall if we fail.”

Father frowned and looked away. When he looked back at me, his eyes had softened. “We can’t worry about stubborn idiots who refuse to see the bigger picture. We have to make difficult decisions so those who judge us will have a full stomach when they sleep at night.”

My heart screamed that there had to be a better way to serve the community—a way that didn’t leave widows and fatherless children behind—but in my head, I knew he was right. Life wasn’t some fairy tale where heroes won the prize. Life was a battle for the ferocious who weren’t afraid to claw, kick, and bite their way to the top, and I needed to sharpen my nails and strengthen my resolve if I had any chance of surviving.

I pulled an envelope of cash from my inside pocket and handed it to my father. “From the delivery.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to pull you in on this, but I needed someone I can trust. The Pelinos are gearing up, preparing to make a move.” He rubbed a hand down his face, looking tired and worn.

The Pelinos were our rivals. Less than a year ago they made a play for power and failed. A big deal went south and they shot the wrong people, disrupted the balance, and brought the feds down on the city. Their mistake inconvenienced the local families, resulting in several Pelino deaths.

I frowned, wondering why the idiots would try again. “The Pelinos are greedy and incompetent. The families won’t support them.”

Father studied me, scratching his chin. “Who knows what the families will do? But if I know one thing, Adamo—that crazy bastard—will hang himself. We just need to supply the rope. In the meantime, we stay the course, guard against outsiders, and keep as much business as we can within the family. You get what I’m saying?”