Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family #1)

by Amanda Washington

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.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Bones said.

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what that was.”

  My phone rang. Knowing the old man would be calling to debrief, I clicked on my bluetooth and answered.

  “Angel, thank you for your assistance today.”

  Father rarely thanked me. I didn’t know what to say. “Yeah, no problem. You’re not going to buy from them, are you?”

  “Of course not. I wanted your eyes on the design so you’ll recognize the product when it surfaces,” he replied.

  The certainty in the old man’s voice sent a chill down my spine. If one of the families purchased and used those bombs, all hell would break loose. “Got it. One lousy design for a killing machine etched into my brain.”

  He sighed and disconnected without so much as a goodbye.

  “Everything okay?” Bones asked.

  I shrugged. “He thanked me, but then I spoke and he remembered how disappointing I am.”

  Bones nodded. “It’s a screwed-up world.”

  “Yes, yes it is.”

  I tried to pretend it didn’t bother me, but deep down every son wants his father’s approval, and I was no exception. If I could just keep my mouth shut, we’d get along better. Making backhanded comments about the old man’s livelihood definitely wasn’t winning any son-of-the-year competitions. Frustrated with it all, I changed lanes and hung a left, heading in the opposite direction of my workplace.

  “Where are we going?” Bones asked.

  “It’s too late to go back to the office. Let’s hit the gym.”

  Bones took working out very seriously. The minute we stepped out of the locker room he morphed into some sort of fitness Nazi hell-bent on pushing me until I bled or coughed up a lung. But between the cop shooting and my father’s shady associates, I desperately needed to purge my brain, even at the expense of my body. Bones helped me do just that. About an hour-and-a-half into our workout, I collapsed into the Jacuzzi, sore muscles sizzling as they hit the water, and sank down to my neck. Bones—looking no worse for the wear—strutted toward the pool and dove in. I waved him off, giving him my blessing to do laps like some possessed Olympic hopeful while I recuperated. I wanted to rush home, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week, but the twins would never forgive me if I didn’t show up to take them trick-or-treating. And somehow Bones had talked me into club hopping afterward.

  Cold water splattered on my face, and then the level of the Jacuzzi raised over my chin. “You almost ready?” Bones asked, sitting across from me.

  “Ready for what?” I asked, eyes still closed.

  “Costume shopping.”

  “Bones, today’s Halloween. I doubt there’s going to be anything left.”

  Bones got out of the Jacuzzi and I heard him walking away as he replied, “I call bullshit. You’re just trying to get out of it. I have a friend who runs a costume shop and she’s been sending me pictures of their remaining inventory.” There was the sound of Bones rustling through his bag, followed by his wet steps on the cement floor as he walked back over. “Think I’ll go as Sexy Zorro this year. What do you think?”

  I opened one eye. Bones’s phone was in my face, flooding my vision with the image of a man dressed all in black, shirt unlaced down to his navel, spandex pants that left nothing to the imagination, wielding a sword. His hat and mask covered more than his outfit did. I closed my eyes and winced, wishing I could unsee the image. “Ugh, Bones. That’s like man-porn. Keep that shit out of my face. You do realize we’re taking the twins trick-or-treating first, right? I don’t know that they’re old enough for Sexy Zorro. Hell, I’m not old enough.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep it G-rated for the kids, but after we drop them back home all bets are off.”

  “I don’t even know what that means, but I’m terrified.”

  “What are you going to go as?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. A dutiful man taking his younger siblings out and then babysitting his best friend all night?”

  “That look is so tired; you wear it all the time,” Bones whined. “Live a little.”

  “What did I go as last year?” I asked.

  Bones tensed. The sour look on his face reminded me I had stepped into territory best left untouched. Memories of last Halloween came flooding back. My ex-girlfriend, Leilana, had me dress like a pirate so she could be my slutty wench,
which really should have clued me in on her extracurricular activities. Later that night, I found out she’d been sleeping with a guy from work. Leilana was gone now, but anger, shame, and guilt still managed to ravage me every time I thought of her. I stood and let the memories slide off me with the water. “Right. Let’s go for something with a little less drama this year.”

  Bones chuckled and tossed me a towel. “Got it. Hmm.” Then he cocked his head and a wide grin spread across his face.

  “Uh oh. That doesn’t look good,” I said.

  Bones threw back his head and laughed. “You’re right, it’s not good. It’s great. I have the most incredible idea. We are going to look so badass this year!”

  Since badass was much better than sexy, I swallowed back a grimace and followed Bones to the locker room, wondering what the hell he was up to.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Angel

  WITH BONES AT my side, I rang the doorbell of my childhood home and turned my back on the security camera aimed at me. I had a key and would normally let myself in, but today I wanted to make an entrance. Bones and I wore matching black outfits: pants tucked into combat boots, jackets with official police crests on the arm under Kevlar vests that said “Police” on the front and “SWAT” on the back. Even our baseball caps were black with white letters announcing us as “SWAT.” Black squirt guns were holstered at our hips, ready to drench anyone who didn’t take us seriously. In case the squirt guns weren’t enough, we each carried a billy club, handcuffs, rubber gloves, and enough containers of silly string to cover the entire city of Las Vegas, stashed in the pouches strapped to our legs. I had no clue where Bones had gotten the costumes, but I was fairly certain they were authentic, and I couldn’t wait to see my father’s reaction.

  The old man answered the door with a security guard hot on his heels. His eyes widened for a moment as he looked from me to Bones, and then back to me. Then he threw back his head and laughed harder than I’d ever heard him laugh before. The security guard eyed Bones and me, with one hand on the gun in his pocket. Then he must have recognized me, because he chuckled and shook his head appreciatively.

  “Al! Come look at these pigs on my doorstep!” Father shouted, sliding aside and waving for Cousin Alberto.

  Cousin Alberto hobbled over to the door, took one look at us, and practically spit out his dentures.

  “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, when he could finally breathe again. “You’ve gotta get a picture of this, Dom.”

  Still chuckling, Father disappeared for a few moments and then reappeared with a camera around his neck.

  “Those are some costumes,” he said. “Looks just like the real thing. Where’d you get them?”

  I held my hands up. “Don’t look at me. This was all Bones’s idea.”

  “I know a guy,” Bones said with a shrug.

  “Those guns real?” Cousin Alberto asked, pointing at my holster.

  I drew my plastic weapon, aimed it for dramatic effect, and then proceeded to water the potted plant next to the door. This only made them laugh harder.

  Cousin Alberto shook his head. “The guys aren’t gonna believe this. Dom, you gotta get a picture of me with these two.”

  There were pictures of us arresting Cousin Alberto and Father, pictures of us about to beat the men with our billy clubs, and pictures of them stealing our guns and squirting us. The two laughed hard enough to make me feel like I’d partially redeemed myself. So what if I sucked as a wiseguy? At least I could be comic relief. Too bad the costumes hadn’t even been my idea. Father was still chuckling when Luciana came around the corner wearing a long, frilly purple dress.

  “Wow! Look at you!” He gasped. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful lady in my life.”

  “You’re stunning, Luci,” I added.

  She blushed, pausing to flick a long dark curl out of her face. “I’m a princess.”

  Father scooped her up in his arms, kissing her forehead. “Of course you are. You’re my little princess. The most beautiful princess ever.”

  “Look at my glass slippers, Angel,” she said, showing me her feet.

  “Better not lose them. If some guy shows up on the doorstep with your shoe, he’s gonna be eating it. You know that, right?” I warned.

  Father narrowed his eyes at me. “Where’s Georgie?” he asked Luciana.

  “Here, Daddy!” Georgio said. He strutted down the stairs, dressed in a breastplate over a tunic with chain mail sleeves and waving a long plastic sword. His black pants were tucked into fur-lined boots, and on his head he wore a helmet with what looked like a spear point coming out of the top and some sort of winged emblem on the front.

  “Angel!” He shouted, running to greet me. “Can you guess who I am?”

  I lacked imagination for guessing games and never could figure out what the hell they were drawing or who they were impersonating. I always tried, though.

  “Of course. You, Georgie, are a mighty Samurai.”

  He tilted his head to the side and dropped his shoulders, obviously exasperated with me. “Not what, who?”

  History was never one of my strong subjects, but as a young history buff, Georgio had a small library on ancient battles and the rulers who initiated them. He couldn’t read half the words, but didn’t let that minor detail keep him from his passion. I’d spent many hours reading those boring books to him, but still had no clue who he was supposed to be. I looked to Bones for help, but he shrugged. Father tried to mouth the answer to me, but I couldn’t make out what he said.

  “One of the guys from Mulan?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark.

  Georgio groaned. “Genghis Kahn. You know, famous warrior and leader? Didn’t they teach you anything in school?”

  I tried to hide my smile at Georgio’s dramatics. Smacking my palm to my forehead, I groaned along with him. “Genghis Kahn. Of course! How did you not get that, Bones?” I asked, passing the buck.

  Bones waved his hands as if he could dispel the accusation. “Hey, you’re the genius, Angel. I’m just the muscle.”

  Father interrupted our verbal sparring to pose us for more pictures.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I asked. Last year Sonia and Sofia had dressed as storm troopers, and I couldn’t wait to see what costumes they’d chosen this year.

  “Dante is out with friends, and Sonia and Sofia are eleven and thirteen now. Earlier this week they informed me and Rachele that they’re too old for trick-or-treating and asked to attend a dance their school is putting on.”

  “Too old? Since when?” I asked. Then the rest of his words sunk in. “Wait, you let them go to a dance?”

  He chuckled. “They are well chaperoned. Even their mother is there. Now get out of here so I can get some work done. Remember, I don’t want them going just anywhere.”

  “I know, I know.” Like I would take them just anywhere. Sometimes my father forgot that he wasn’t the only one who turned into an over-protective papa bear whenever the twins were around. “We’ll hit their school carnival and then a couple of churches so they can load up on candy.”

  “Great. Their dentist will thank you.” Father chuckled and shook his head. Then he hugged me and added, “You’re a good man, Angel.”

  His words managed to warm my heart, even as they sliced through it. In our world, good men were suckered, taken advantage of, and discarded when they were of no more use. Father didn’t need good men. He needed men who were willing to put the family business above all, and I wasn’t that man. Feeling disgraced, I scooped Luciana up and grabbed Georgio’s hand. “I’ll have the twins back by eight.”

  Father closed the door behind us, and we climbed into the Hummer and headed to the school. The twins introduced us to their friends while dragging us along as they tossed bean bags, hula hooped, jump-roped, raced, and fished for prizes. Our costumes earned us several strange looks, but for the most part, people left us alone. We were watching Georgio and Luciana compete in the cake walk when Bones nudged
my arm and nodded at the pint-sized Batman and Spiderman who were whispering and watching us from the wall.

  “Couple of wannabes?” Bones asked.

  “Man, I hope not.”

  Occasionally people heard stories about my family. Sometimes the stories glorified our life and made people want to experience it for themselves. It really sucked when these people were disillusioned kids who lacked parental guidance. Batman saw us watching him and nodded like he knew us. Then, with Spidey in tow, Batman strutted over in his hundred-dollar sneakers. The duo stopped right in front of us and waited. I pretended not to notice them, returning my attention back to my siblings on the cakewalk.

  I could feel Batman watching me for a while before he finally grew the balls to say hello. I wasn’t about to encourage whatever visions of mob life grandeur the kid had, so I didn’t respond.

  “Hey,” he said again, taking another step toward me. “Cool costume.”

  Bones cleared his throat and stepped forward, crossing his arms and standing with his feet apart.

  I glanced down at the kid. He looked at Bones and swallowed, but didn’t back down. He focused back on me and asked, “You Luci and Georgie’s brother?”

  “Yeah. Do I know you, kid?”

  He nodded. “I’m Tanner. Tanner Michaels. My dad helps your dad out sometimes.”

  Spiderman snickered.

  I frowned. Some idiot associated with my father had been stupid enough to discuss business in front of his child. And like most children, Tanner clearly had a big mouth. Michaels. I couldn’t place the name, but would have to mention it to the old man. Could be the kid was lying altogether, but I’d have to make sure. Focusing back on the problem at hand, I shrugged and asked, “So?”

  That seemed to burst Tanner’s bubble a little. He took a step back and glanced around. “Just thought I’d say hi,” he replied.

  The last thing I needed was some punk kid following me around trying to be a wiseguy. I crossed my arms and looked down at him. “Yeah? Well, you said it.” Then I dismissed him and turned away.

  Tanner didn’t know what to do. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he and Spiderman stood stunned for almost a full minute before scurrying off like they suddenly had someplace to be.