Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family Book 3)

by Harley Stone

  Fight clubs always reek of sweat, money, blood, and anxiety. Having done my time proving myself in the cage, the familiar stench welcomed me home, tensing my shoulders and filling my veins with adrenaline. It has been about a year since my name has been on the docket, but I still hungered for the high that came with dominating the cage.

  I loved to fight, but I stayed away from this place because it came with risks. Sometimes people limped out of the cage, sometimes they were carried out on a stretcher, and sometimes they left in a body bag.

  But the cage made men out of boys.

  At least, that’s what Carlo said when he’d signed me up for my first fight. I was fifteen and danced around the cage for the first round. I got cocky in the second round and had my ass handed to me. I’d left a lot of blood in the cage over the years, and then last year Carlo told me to stop. He said I was too valuable to waste in the cage, and if I needed to fight, he’d find me an opponent.

  Now, I was back with his blessing.

  Carlo considered Joey a threat that he had very little intel on. Despite the way the Marianis had the city wired, Carlo hadn’t been able to provide me with much. Just a few recent pictures of Joey and some dark-haired girl he was with. Carlo hadn’t even been able to tell me their relationship, but he wanted them both dead.

  I had a bad feeling about the whole situation, and I never went in blind, so came to the shadiest fight club in Vegas, figuring I’d turn over some rocks and see what secrets came scurrying out.

  The place was packed. Greed and desperation danced around the cage on the backs of two fighters. The one in blue shorts was beating the ever-living shit out of the one in the gold shorts. I’d been in both positions, familiar with both the high of kicking ass and the humiliation of getting my ass kicked so publicly. The cage had taught me that training can only take a fighter so far. It takes determination and resolve to dominate your opponent. Thankfully, I had both.

  Scanning the room, I found the informant I’d been looking for. Christian Pruitt was a sleazy little man with graying blond hair and a round stomach that hid his thighs and covered the arm rests of his sturdy metal chair. One of the few seated spectators, he sat ringside, watching the fight with a tight expression and a container of heartburn medicine in hand. No doubt Gold Shorts was his fighter, and he’d bet too much money on the kid.

  I’d never been much of a gambler and didn’t understand the draw. I worked too hard to throw my money away, especially in a city where most everything was rigged. I knew, because the Marianis rigged it. The fights were one of the few industries we didn’t touch, but that didn’t mean that some other family wasn’t paying off fighters or officials.

  Keeping one eye on the fight, I crossed the room to stand beside Christian.

  “Bones,” Christian said, his gaze locked on the cage. Gold Shorts took a right hook to the jaw and Christian winced. “What brings you to the Pit?”

  No doubt he already knew. Christian’s bread and butter was information—it’s how he paid his gambling debts—and since the Mariani family had been busy with our recent house cleaning, he probably knew more than we did about what was going on around town. I was counting on it, in fact.

  “Heard a rumor Joey Durante’s back in town. Thought you might know where he’s holed up and what the fuck he’s doing here.”

  Christian leaned back in his chair, his smile greasy. “I might know something about that, but it sounds like valuable information. Wonder what the Marianis would be willing to pay?”

  “You know we have deep pockets, Christian.”

  The fight in the ring was winding down. Blue Shorts shoved Gold Shorts’s face into the metal wire of the cage and did a number on his back and kidneys. Finally, Gold Shorts bounced off the grate and fell to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head and blood dribbling from crisscross patterns dug into his cheeks by the wire. His nose looked broken and his jaw was already darkening with a massive bruise. It might have been broken. The announcer stepped into the cage and announced the victor. The crowd went wild and I braced against people pressing forward to place their next bets.

  Gold Shorts’s chest rose and fell, but he wasn’t moving as the medics hurried in and looked him over. They loaded him on a stretcher and carried him out.

  Christian swore, shaking his head. “That’s a damn shame. Thought for sure he’d get further than one round. I didn’t peg him to win, but I thought he’d at least make a goddamn round. It’s almost impossible to get a good fighter around here anymore.”

  I nodded, anticipating what was coming. Christian had seen me in the cage and knew I could hold my own. It was just a matter of time before—

  “When was the last time you were in the cage?” Christian asked, staring up at me.

  I fought a smile. Some people were so damn predictable it was almost too easy. “Over a year.”

  “A year? Lots of new faces around here.”

  Again, I nodded. “Even if the old-timers recognized me, they’d probably think I lost my edge.”

  “You’d be going against Crusher.” Christian nodded at some big, hairy motherfucker pacing the side of the cage. Looked like he could do some damage, but his movements were slow. I’d have to get in and out before he swung.

  “What’s my cut?” I asked.

  “Information.”

  I chuckled. “Not enough.” I’d be putting my life and body at risk. “You know the family won’t risk me without something more than that to show for it.”

  “Twenty-five percent.”

  “Bullshit. We both know you’ll make a killing off this.”

  He eyed me. “Only if you win.”

  Since Christian knew what I was capable of, the asshole was just busting my balls. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like the risk,” I pointed out. “Seventy-five percent.”

  He snorted. “Thirty.”

  Not in the mood to haggle with the dirtbag, I said, “Fifty percent and all the information you have on Joey Durante, his associates, and anything related. Take it, or I walk, Christian.”

  He gave me another greasy smile. “Sounds like you better go put your name on the docket.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ariana

  KNOCKING WOKE ME. Unsure if the sound was coming from my head or the door, I rolled over and looked at the clock. Ten a.m. More knocking sounded, definitely coming from my bedroom door. With no job, no social life, and a raging cheap wine hangover, I was really hoping to sleep the day away, but apparently someone had other plans.

  “Go away,” I groaned.

  “You decent?” Bones asked from the other side of the door. “Because I’m coming in.”

  Flashes of him spurning my advances last night played through my mind, heating my cheeks. Fairly certain I’d made a fool out of myself in front of my crush, and never wanted to see him again, I replied, “Nope. Totally naked in here.”

  “Then put on some clothes,” he said, adding to my humiliation. That was definitely not one of the things I wanted him to say to me.

  “Or you could go away,” I suggested.

  “Not happening. You dressed yet?”

  Bones was stubborn as hell, but so was I. The idea of getting into a pissing contest with him about whether he should leave sounded like a lot of fun, but I was trying to appear mature and womanly so he’d stop treating me like a kid and start trying to get in my pants.

  “I made coffee,” he said. “And picked up breakfast.”

  My woozy stomach didn’t seem too sure about breakfast, but my pounding head thought coffee sounded fabulous.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” I replied. Throwing back my covers, I realized I was mostly dressed. No bra, but the jeans and T-shirt I’d worn last night were still on. I had no memory of how I’d gotten into bed, but Bones had apparently been a complete gentleman.

  Dammit.

  I eyed the bra on top of my dresser, but quickly dismissed it. If he insisted on keeping his big, strong hands to himself, I intended to m
ake it as hard on him as possible.

  Or to make him as hard as possible. That idea had serious potential.

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and ran a brush through my hair and a toothbrush over my teeth until the woman in the mirror didn’t look like a zombified crackhead. Then I slipped out of my room to see what Bones was doing in my apartment. He was standing by the coffee pot with a cup to his lips. He had an inch-long gash just beneath his right eye and he looked like he’d gotten less sleep than I had. His gaze drifted down to my boobs for a second before he caught himself and held out a second cup in my direction.

  Giving myself a pat on the back for leaving off the bra, I puffed out my chest a little and accepted the cup, mumbling my thanks. My gaze raked over his muscular arms and the tank top barely hiding his well-defined chest. A bruise was forming on his right shoulder, and his knuckles were all busted up.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “Work,” he replied.

  ‘Work’ was code for ‘don’t ask’ because he wouldn’t tell me shit. It was infuriating how many things fell under the ‘work’ category with Bones. Regardless, I stepped closer to get a good look at the gash on his face. “That needs stitches.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

  “It’ll scar.”

  “Probably.” He set his cup down and unfolded the top of a big paper bag on the countertop, releasing yummy food smells. “Figured you’d be hungover, so I got omelets, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and pancakes.”

  He apparently didn’t want to talk about his scar and intended to use food to deflect. My stomach growled, and although the thought of gobbling up more carbs didn’t appeal to me, I reasoned that the omelet might do me some good.

  Bones carried the bag to the coffee table and laid out the containers. He loaded a paper plate full of food and passed it to me before doing the same for himself. Staring at more food than I usually ate in a week, I started to object but he cut me off.

  “Eat. You’ll need the calories.”

  “I will?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Angel can’t leave Markie yet, and I need a workout partner. We’re gonna hit the gym, then I’m gonna take you to work. Your shift begins at three.”

  Bones started shoveling food in his mouth, giving me the chance to mull over the fact he’d gotten me my job back, even though I asked him not to. I felt simultaneously grateful and annoyed. But mostly annoyed. How was he going to see me as a sexy, independent woman if he was always swooping in to save the day?

  “Thanks for working things out with my boss, but I can take the bus to—”

  “Nope,” he cut me off.

  “What do you mean ‘nope’?” I asked.

  He gestured at my plate with his fork. “Eat, Ari.”

  I considered telling him nope, but took a small bite of my omelet to appease him.

  He watched me. “With everything that’s been going on lately, it’s not safe to be out on your own.”

  “The attack on Angel’s family?” I asked. I didn’t know all the details since nobody would talk about it, but Markie had escaped with Angel’s two youngest siblings. “I don’t see why that has anything to do with me.”

  “You’re Markie’s family and Markie’s connected to Angel. It’s my job to make sure Angel, and everyone connected to him, is safe.”

  Great. So, he was protecting me out of a sense of duty toward Angel, not because he was into me. Well, I didn’t need his pity protection. “I’ll take the bus,” I insisted.

  He stared at me. “Don’t fight me on this, Ari. We’re going to be working out regularly. I’ll teach you some self-defense techniques, and I’ll drive you where you need to go from here on out.”

  “Drive me everywhere? That’s not even practical. What if you’re not available?”

  “I’ll arrange for you to have a ride.”

  “I like taking the bus.”

  “Noted.” His eyes hardened. “And not negotiable.”

  The command in his voice had an interesting effect on me. I couldn’t decide whether to cower in a corner, come out swinging, or wrap my legs around him and rake my fingers through his military-short dark hair as I kissed him into submission. I would have been all over that last option had the sexy bastard shown any interest in me at all. There was no way in hell I was cowering in the corner, so swinging was my only option. I held his gaze and leaned closer, until our lips were barely more than an inch apart.

  His gaze drifted down to my mouth.

  Licking my lips, I settled my hand high on his thigh. Maybe I’d straddle him after all. Before I could move forward with that plan, he shook himself and plucked my hand from his leg, settling it in my lap.

  “Eat.” His voice sounded deeper, huskier. “So we can go.”

  “I’m not hungry.” I set my plate down on the coffee table.

  “Goddammit, Ari. Are you gonna fight me on everything?” Bones asked. His plate was mostly empty, and he slammed it on the table beside mine, making the remaining bits of food bounce. “I’m trying to keep you safe and healthy and you’re acting like I’m putting you in lockdown.”

  “I’ve been on my own in Vegas for more than a year now.” I tried to stay calm, but my voice was shaky, and anger was warming my face.

  “And look where it got you,” he replied. “You were living in a shitty apartment, dating a fuckin’ drug dealer who conned you out of your money and laced you with crap drugs that almost killed you.”

  I didn’t need Bones to remind me of my failures. Standing, I pointed at the door. “Get out.”

  He let out a deep breath and his shoulders sagged. “Ari, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did.” He meant it, because it was all true. But my God, it still hurt like hell. “Leave.”

  He stood, but stayed by the sofa. “We need to hit the gym and work on self-defense techniques.”

  “Haven’t needed them so far.”

  His eyes softened. “I want you to be prepared, in case anything like what happened to Markie happens to you.” He looked scared and worried. Although that touched my heart, I wasn’t ready to forgive him.

  “Then maybe tomorrow you should try not to be such a douchebag and we can go to the gym. But today, I don’t want to be anywhere near you. Please go.” I crossed my arms and nodded toward the door.

  “All right, but I’ll be back by two-fifteen to take you to work. Let me know if you need to go anywhere sooner.”

  His concern would have been sweet if my mind would stop reminding me that he was just doing his job. Just taking care of Angel’s girlfriend’s little sister. He probably saw me as his own little sister. I’d been fucking sister-zoned. “Whatever.”

  Shaking his head, Bones walked out.

  Too poor to waste food, I put the leftovers in the fridge and headed toward the bathroom to take a shower. If Bones was going to be here at two-fifteen, I intended to be out the door long before one.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Bones

  ANGEL WAS SITTING on the sofa, working when I stumbled back into our apartment. He glanced up, and his eyes widened at my appearance. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.

  “I went to see Christian.”

  “You win?”

  “Really, Angel? I’m offended.” Grinning, I added, “Of course I won. Fuckin’ crushed the Crusher. That bastard won’t be crushing anything for a while.”

  “Damn. I wish I could have been there.”

  “Me, too. Shit, I pulled that reversal leg swipe on him, and the big man went down like a sack of bricks. You would have loved it. How’s Markie?”

  “Better. She was awake for about six hours straight. She wanted to stay up longer, but I slipped one of her pain pills in her breakfast.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “Hope she doesn’t figure it out.”

  He set his laptop aside and stood, stretching. “She’ll forgive me. Now, let’s go clean up that cut.”

  I followed Angel into
my bathroom, lowered the toilet seat lid, and sat as he pulled a medical kit from the cabinet. He cleaned my cut with peroxide, and I swear I could feel it bubbling in my teeth. I held still and didn’t say shit, though. We’d done this more times than I could count, and I knew the drill.

  “Christian give you anything useful?” Angle asked.

  “A few locations and names to check out. I drove by the locations early this morning, but there was no sign of life. I’m hoping we can check into them before I go barreling in.” I trusted very few people, and none of them were greasy informants with gambling debts. Even if I did trust Christian, he could have been fed some bad information with the hopes it would get back to me. The Mariani family hadn’t ruled Vegas for more than twenty-five years by rushing into shit. We were thorough as fuck.

  Angel nodded, swabbing my cut down with a local anesthetic before he threaded a needle. “I might have found something for you, too. You want to throw back a shot before I stitch this up?”

  I shook my head no. I had too much shit to do for the brain fog alcohol would cause.

  “All right.” He set the needle aside. “I’ll give the anesthetic a chance to kick in while I clean your knuckles. Anything else I should look at?”

  Had Angel been born into a different family, he could have been a doctor, an engineer, or whatever he wanted. He was one of the smartest people I knew, and despite the way his medical training had come entirely from reading and watching shit online, he could dig out a bullet or stitch up a knife wound with the best of them.

  “My ribs,” I replied, tugging at my shirt. For the most part, I’d been fast enough on my feet to stay away from Crusher, but I was pretty sure he’d cracked at least one of my ribs. Angel checked me for signs of internal bleeding before wrapping my stomach and stitching up the gash under my eye. When he finished doctoring me up, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt and we pulled out our laptops and got to work.

  Angel hunted down the shell businesses that owned the locations Christian had provided. Once he had those names, he went to work tracking the real owners of the shells while I searched for information on the contacts. Time passed quickly as we researched, and before long, my phone rang with the call I’d been expecting. Standing and heading to my room for my gun and shoes, I answered.