Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) (5 page)

“Is everything all right, Mr… Angel?” the man asked, eyeing me.

“Yes. Ling, meet my friend Markie. She was… unexpected, but welcome. Markie, Ling owns this restaurant.”

Wondering if Angel expected me to be impressed he knew the owner, I held out a hand to Ling. “Nice to meet you.”

Ling’s fingertips barely brushed my hand while he insisted that any friend of Angel’s was a friend of his before rushing off to grab a third plate. Angel slid a slice of pizza onto his plate and set it down in front of me. The pie looked incredible, and the smell made my mouth water, but the entire exchange was creeping me out. I’d never been confrontational, but I wasn’t going to let these guys roll over me either.

I wasn’t finished with my tirade, though. I slid Angel’s plate back in front of him and added, “Thanks, but I am perfectly capable of ordering my own lunch.”

Angel turned back to me and cocked his head. He still wasn’t speaking, but he did loosen up his tie. Bones looked from Angel to me, chuckled, and then shook his head.

“What?” I asked, getting the feeling that nobody ever refused them.

“I think you look lovely,” Angel said, finally. His gaze drifted down, and then came back up to my face. “That dress brings out the blue in your eyes.”

I most certainly did not blush. I bit the inside of my cheek to make sure of it.

“And we didn’t mean to offend. Sometimes Bones thinks he’s funnier than he actually is.”

“I’m hilarious,” Bones deadpanned.

“See what I mean?” Angel asked with a smirk. “You know, this pizza is gigantic. Ling really outdid himself, and there’s no way we’ll be able to finish it. You are welcome to it if you’d like. If not, we can get you a menu. We didn’t want to be rude and eat in front of you. Especially if you’ve been traveling for days. This is one of the few good airport restaurant choices, so I’m sure you’re starving.”

And it smelled so amazing. I was moments from gnawing off my arm. Angel’s calm and polite response made me feel like a complete hag for freaking out. “I’m sorry I snapped. I’m pretty exhausted.”

“Don’t even worry about it.” Angel offered me the plate again.

There was no way I could refuse it. I thanked him and dove in as Ling returned with the third plate. The pizza tasted even better than it smelled. “Oh man, I’ve missed pizza. This alone makes it worth coming back to the states.”

“Where have you been?” Angel asked.

“Zambia.”

“Oh, wow. What were you doing in Africa?” Angel asked.

“Running drugs,” Bones said, gesturing at me. “Obviously. I mean look at her.”

“You see what I’m dealing with here?” Angel asked.

I giggled. “He’s a little funny.”

Bones grinned.

“But no, I wasn’t running drugs. At least not this time. I originally went to help build wells, but there was this orphanage with the most amazing kids. They needed help, so I stayed and helped out.”

“Changed your plans just like that, huh?” Angel asked, shaking his head.

I nodded.

“How long were you there?”

“About a year.”

“Wow.”

Angel seemed like he wanted to say more, but Bones’s pocket buzzed, interrupting the conversation.

“Everything all right?” Angel asked.

Bones studied his phone. “Yeah, but we gotta bounce. They must have made up some time, because their flight just landed.”

I couldn’t help but wonder who “they” were, but resisted the urge to ask. Bones waved Ling over and offered to pay the bill, but Ling refused his card.

“Sorry we have to rush off.” Angel stood and offered me his hand. “It was great meeting you.”

I stood as well. A handshake seemed kind of formal since they’d shared a meal with me, so I hugged him instead. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Bones tensed and stepped forward. I laughed. “Still not a convict, Bones.” Then I hugged him too. That seemed to really throw the big guy off. He patted my back awkwardly and stepped away from me.

I forced back more laughter. “Thank you both. This was nice.”

They muttered in agreement before heading toward the door. Realizing they weren’t taking the pizza, I asked if I could. We’d barely touched the pie, and I was certain I could find someone who’d appreciate it.

Angel looked at me like I’d sprouted a giant zit or third eye. It was too late to retract the statement though, so I waited until he nodded.

“Knock yourself out,” Bones replied.

Having thoroughly embarrassed myself, I was happy to watch the mystery men leave, confident I’d probably never see them again.

Boy, was I wrong.

CHAPTER FOUR

Angel

B
ONES HALF-DRAGGED ME out of the restaurant while my brain was still trying to process what had happened.

“What the hell was that?” Bones asked, pulling me into a gift shop. “You leave to use the restroom and you come back with this broad?”

I shrugged. “She needed a place to sit. We had an extra chair.”

“And?”

“Did you see her? She was fine, Bones.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “
You
picked up a girl at a restaurant?
You
?”

Offended, I flashed him my best scowl. I could pick up girls, I just usually didn’t want to. There was something different about Markie, though. Her dimples. Her perfect lips. The innocence in her bright blue eyes. “She was really fine.”

“If she was all that, why didn’t you get her number?”

So many reasons. She seemed sweet and untainted and I had no desire to drag her into my wreck of a life. “Turns out she wasn’t my type.”

Bones eyed me. “Right. Well, fix your shirt. And your tie. What the hell, man? Are you taking these guys to a meeting or to a strip club?”

“Huh?” I followed his gaze, and sure enough, my tie was loose and my collar button undone.

When did that happen?

With no time to worry about it, I fixed my appearance and we hurried out of the restroom. Markie stood outside the restaurant with an open pizza box in her arms. An elderly couple stopped in front of her, and she held the box toward them, saying something. They each reached in and took a slice. Markie closed the box and headed toward the exit, stopping to offer pizza to a mother and two small children along the way. Her long blonde curls cascaded down her back and, as she slipped a rogue lock behind her ear, I suddenly wanted to run my fingers through it.

What the hell’s wrong with me?

Bones nudged me. “Never met anyone like her before.”

Still transfixed by the natural girl-next-door beauty before me, I stole one more eyeful of her soft curves. “Nope. And we probably never will again.” A little pang of regret pierced my chest.

Bones and I made it to the waiting area only minutes before my father’s associates. Two Italians and one orange-haired Irishman sported typical wiseguy attire: tailored suits, Italian loafers, luxury watches, and hard-ass attitudes. The family limo took us on a tour of the strip before stopping in front of a five-story glass building, one of several locations where Father conducted his business. The driver let us out and then sped off before the trio could even ask about their luggage in the trunk. That soured their expressions and made for an uncomfortable elevator ride.

Bones led us to Conference Room B where six black high-backed ergonomic chairs surrounded a rectangular stone table that ended in a fifty-two-inch flat-screen television. The opposite wall held a built-in glass-door refrigerator stocked with bottled water and soda. Large tinted one-way windows looked out over the strip and gave us a scenic view of the hills beyond. I offered up refreshments as Bones stood guard by the door.

Small talk was never one of my strengths. I could only discuss the city’s history, shows, and restaurants for so long before the tension in the room suffocated us all. Father let me sweat it out until the wait hovered around offensive before making his grand, guarded entry. He greeted his guests without apologizing for their wait, and gestured for me to scan the room.

The room was clean, so I nodded at him and took a seat.

“Did you bring the plans?” Father asked, getting right down to business.

“Yes, of course,” the Irishman replied. He pulled papers from his briefcase and offered them to the old man.

Father gestured for me to take them. Curious about what he was springing on me, I grabbed the pages and studied the design of a bomb. The ginger pointed out the sensors and so-called safety features, and then engaged my father in a conversation about keeping production costs low.

A generic, low-cost killing machine. Terrific.

“Angel, what do you think?” Father asked.

He’d brought two guards, knowing Bones would accompany me. Between his visible security, the amount of time he’d left them waiting, and the fact their luggage was still tucked safely away in the trunk of the limo, I knew I wouldn’t be bursting any budding friendship with my honesty. “It is economical and the design is simple; production would take no time at all.”

“Exactly,” the ginger said.

Father looked at the paper in my hand. “Would we use it?”

It was a bogus question. Only he knew what we would and wouldn’t use, but he wanted my eyes on it again. Reading past his words, I studied the design once more, committing it to memory. Then I handed the papers back to the ginger.

“No. Our family is precise and our hits are clean.”

“This is clean,” one of the ginger’s babysitters replied. “Nobody can survive this explosion. They open the door and boom, it’s over.”

He didn’t blink, didn’t wince, didn’t waste a moment considering bodies splattered all over the pavement. I wondered—not for the first time—how many lives a person could take before they grew numb. A room full of people, and there wasn’t a single heartstring to tug on. I sighed and tried for a more practical approach.

“That’s what I’m worried about. What if a wife or a child is the first to the car? Then what? Your hit is still out there roaming free and you’ve killed an innocent and broken the code. Now you’ve got the cops and the families hunting your ass down. That’s a lot of trouble to save a few bucks. Hardly worth it.”

The second babysitter leaned forward. “Even with a slug to the head, you run the risk of collateral damage. Somebody could duck, or a child could get in the way. There’s no guarantee in anything.”

“Good point,” Father replied, standing to let us know the conversation had come to an end. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. Now that Angel has seen the specs, we’ll discuss this 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 with his guards in tow. The trio had flown across the country and waited almost an hour for a five minute chat with the head of the Las Vegas families, and they were clearly expecting more. After a moment of stunned silence the ginger packed up his paperwork and he and his goons followed me and Bones down the hall. They were drowning in outrage, and I refused to so much as throw the callous bastards a kind word. Bones and I saw them to the limo and then waited for a valet to bring the Hummer around.