Markie smiled at him. “Good to know.”
Fernando wasn’t done, though. He inclined his head to me and said, “Mr. Angel, my parents got the floral arrangement you sent for my abuela’s funeral. Thank you. It meant much to us.”
Fernando’s grandmother was almost as precious as Nonna. And although I’d never admit it aloud, she could bake almost as good.
“I was sorry to hear about your loss.”
“Yes, she was a wonderful woman.” Fernando ushered us toward the pod. I tried to ignore the gaping hole on either side of the ramp and walked in. Once the pod was full, an announcer appeared on overhead screens and welcomed us onto the ride. Then he droned on about the city’s history as we began our ascent. Bones and Ariana headed for the bar while Markie and I pressed against the glass. She looked out, while I looked anywhere but down.
“It’s all so beautiful,” Markie breathed.
I followed her gaze to the lights of the strip and saw something different. Connections, money, ties, some buildings would welcome me, and some would call my presence a sign of disrespect. I knew the managers, the back door operations, and the family who got a cut from each one. My father’s world called to me through neon signs and dancing lights, reminding me where I belonged. Looming and confining, there was nothing beautiful about it.
“Look at the stars,” Markie whispered.
At that moment, I didn’t want to think about the city or the stars. I pressed closer to Markie and breathed in the coconut fragrance of her hair. Something soft and crooning played over the speakers. I touched the soft fabric of her T-shirt, locking the moment into all my senses. Bones and Ariana returned, carrying drinks for all four of us. I handed my phone to a stranger and the four of us posed for a picture against the backdrop of the city lights.
“We’re nearing the top,” the announcer said over the speakers. “Starting the countdown from twenty, nineteen, eighteen.”
“I love this so much,” Markie said. She grabbed her sister’s hand, and then mine. As our fingers intertwined, little electrical jolts danced up my arm toward my chest.
“Thank you, Angel,” She flashed me another dimpled smile.
“Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”
My brain screamed at me to pull away from her. Just hours ago I had broken a guy’s fingers. What if someone came after Markie for revenge? Her fingers felt so thin and delicate between mine. How long could I keep her safe from my family? Sooner or later she’d figure out who my father was, and she’d hate me for the things he did. The things I sometimes did. But by then she’d know too much, and if she didn’t accept us, the old man would get rid of her. I needed to let her go.
Not tonight.
I wanted this. I needed it. Her hand felt like a lifeline to everything clean and good about humanity. I stared into her bright, blue eyes and joined in the countdown.
“Ten, Nine, Eight…”
We were almost at the top of the High Roller, but I’d already fallen.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Angel
BY THE TIME Bones and I dropped Markie and Ariana off that night, I knew I was royally screwed. Bones knew it, too. He didn’t say as much, but he didn’t have to. I could tell by the way he frowned at me when we got back in the car.
“I know, I know, One Nut Brizio. Got it. Just give me a minute, and let my brain clear up so I can actually think.”
“If she affects you like that, why don’t you just stay away from her? Why play with fire?” he asked.
I stared at the road, trying to put my feelings into words. I couldn’t think about anything but how incredible Markie was. But, nobody was perfect, and if I spent more time with her, her imperfections would come out. I needed a way to explain that to Bones.
“I don’t know. It’s like… remember when you were hooked on those lemon bars from that bakery by Caesars?”
Bones eyed me. “Lemon crack bars. They were the shit.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, and you were a fiend for them.”
“Angel, you don’t understand. Buttery crisp shortbread; subtly sweet curd filling.” Bones licked his lips. “Perfection. Damn, I miss those bars.”
Freakin’ foodie. “Right. How’d you break the addiction?”
He looked thoughtful. “I didn’t. They did. They got a new baker who didn’t know what the hell she was doing. Made the shortbread soggy and the filling too sweet. Haven’t been back since.”
“Exactly,” I replied.
Bones raised an eyebrow.
“There is no perfection, Bones. I don’t know this girl, so she looks damn good right now. But I know she’s gotta have a deal. Everyone does. I just need to hang with her long enough to see what that is. Then I can forget about her. You know?”
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think I get it. This broad’s your lemon crack bar and you need a new baker.”
I chuckled, realizing how stupid that illustration sounded.
Bones joined me, his deep laugh shaking the vehicle. “You know how messed up this is, right? A broad catches your attention and you’re hoping she’ll morph into a psycho bitch.”
He was right. I was losing my godforsaken mind.
Bones laughed himself out, and then he grew serious. “This can be settled quick and easy, you know? Run a check and shine a spotlight on all her crazy.”
I stopped for a light. “No. I’m gonna check her out, but I’m going to do it the organic way.”
“You’re just makin’ shit up now, aren’t you?” he asked.
I retrieved the business card Markie had given me from my pocket, passing it to Bones.
He studied the card for a second before asking, “What the hell’s this?”
“It’s where Markie will be volunteering. Do you know anyone who has a contact at this place?”
He cocked his head. “I got people in the casinos, the strip clubs, restaurants, government offices. I even got contacts in old folks homes thanks to Nonna. But I don’t have anyone in the orphanage scene.”
“I need to get approved to volunteer without them running my information,” I said. “Maybe a healthy donation to the cause would help?”
“You want to volunteer here? With kids? Angel, you got some cool little siblings, but orphans aren’t like that. They got issues. The kind of issues that land them behind bars serving twenty-to-life. You get what I’m saying?” Bones asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. You’re saying you’re afraid of kids. Now can you bribe this orphanage so I can prove what an upstanding citizen I am and get Markie’s number, or what?”
“This is all about getting the broad’s phone number? Seriously man, now I know you’ve lost your mind. We can have her number in seconds.”
“And have her think I’m some stalker? No. She has to give me her number. Can you get me in or not?”
Bones studied the business card for a few more seconds before pocketing it. “Yeah, man. This is nuts, but I’ll see what I can do.”
I didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night, so Thursday was brutal. One of the self-checkout terminals my team had picked up from Renzo was waiting for me in the center of my office. The seventeen-inch touchscreen monitor was the first thing I salvaged. I started disassembling the body, and activated a beast of a tracking device. Tech jammed the signal while I fried the tracker, bumping my head and slicing my hand open in the process. Once inside, I found a sixteen-gig DDR memory stick and an octa-core CPU. All-in-all, not a bad load. After my team dissected the rest of them, a decent tech fence would be able to fetch Renzo at least two large for the parts. I was bandaging up my hand when Bones reminded me that we had an appointment at the shooting range.
The range was operated by a friend of the family who not only allowed us to bring in our own handguns, but also gave us free rein to fire everything they had. We checked into the VIP room and once we brushed up on our pistols, we tried out the M4, the M249 S.A.W, the Remington 700 sniper, the Beretta M9, and the Tommy gun. Of course we had to try the T
ommy gun. How could we not? Bones and I spent the afternoon competing to see which of us could destroy the most targets. By the time we grabbed dinner and headed home, my arms felt like jelly. I was so ready for bed that I even resisted the urge to drive by Markie’s apartment to see if I could catch a glimpse of her.
The next day, Bones and I made it to the office early. I went back to the self-checkout terminal in the middle of my floor, while Bones scurried off to do whatever he did when I was in Geekland, as he liked to call it. By the time he brought me lunch he’d scheduled an appointment with the orphanage director for three p.m. We cut out of work early, suited up, and strolled into the joint like we had money to throw around. And when we threw that money around, the director’s eyes went wider than silver dollars. He was too busy counting the bills to even ask me to fill out an application.
“You’re sure it won’t be a problem for us to stop by every now and then? We’d like to make sure our contribution is being put to good use.” Bones asked.
“That’s a perfectly reasonable request, and the children will benefit from spending time with upstanding male role models like yourselves,” the director replied, sliding the cash into a drawer.
I wondered when money had become a sign of good character, but held my tongue. The meeting couldn’t have gone better if I’d scripted it, and I didn’t want to screw it up now. By the time we left the director’s office, I was ready to cash in on my end of the deal and get Markie’s phone number. I marched up to the front desk and asked for her.
The lady behind the desk nodded. “Yeah, I know Markie. She’s the new volunteer. The kids really like her. She was here earlier, but went home with a migraine.”
Feeling completely let down, I thanked her and turned to leave.
A little black kid holding a basketball blocked my path. His shorts and tank top looked about two sizes too big for him, and his sneakers had a hole in the toe. He dribbled the ball a couple of times and then cocked his head to the side and studied me. He snorted, clearly unimpressed. The kid had to be about ten, but packed at least twenty years of attitude.
“You know Markie?” he asked.
The little punk needed to mind his own damn business, but since I wasn’t trying to get kicked out of the orphanage, I nodded. “Yeah, she’s a friend.”
The boy looked from me to Bones and snorted again. “Yeah right.”
What the hell? “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“Markie’s tough. She’s a baller and she don’t take no shit. You? You brought your bodyguard into an orphanage. What are you scared of, rich boy?”
I had to hand it to the kid, he had a point.
“I’m smart, not scared. And how do you know I’m not a baller?”
He tossed me the ball and shrugged. “Only one way to find out. Prove it.”
I caught the ball, barely. But hey, I hadn’t been expecting it. I could shoot hoops. Bones’s shoulders shook, and I knew my friend was trying not to laugh. I hesitated, wondering what he knew that I didn’t. Besides, I didn’t have time to teach the little punk a lesson. If we left now, we could take Markie some flowers and a get-well card.
“That’s what I thought,” the kid sneered. “Just another stick in a suit.”
I’d been in the place less than ten minutes and had paid one guy off and had another challenging me. Turns out that Markie’s world wasn’t too far from my father’s after all. Never one to turn down a challenge, I tilted my head toward Bones and asked, “What do you think? We got time to straighten this kid out?”
Bones removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He flexed and cracked his neck. Then he leveled a stare at the kid and said, “There’s always time to teach manners.” He stepped forward.
The kid’s eyes bugged out.
Hiding my laugh, I held out a hand to stop Bones. “Save it for the court, big guy. Where is your court anyway?”
The kid pointed to the north side of the building. “That way.”
“Cool. Bathroom?” I asked.
Still keeping an eye on Bones, the kid pointed in the opposite direction. “Down that hall. First door on the right.”
I tossed him the ball. “Go find a few of your little friends and meet us in the gym in ten minutes.”
“But you’re wearing suits.”
“Don’t worry about it. Not your problem.” We had gym clothes in the Hummer, but I wanted him to think they just materialized on us like superheroes.
“Hey kid, you look scared,” Bones said. “What’s wrong? You just a big-mouthed chicken?”
“I ain’t no chicken, and I don’t play for free. Let’s talk stakes. What’s in it for me when we wipe the floor with your tired old asses?”
Tired old asses? Nobody had ever called me old before. Stakes, though? The kid was a gambler, and that was something I knew how to deal with. I crossed my arms and eyed him. “What do you want?”
“If I win, you take me and my friends to play paintball.”
“Paintball?” I asked. “You sure you’re old enough for that?”
He snickered. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Okay, I’ll bite, but what do I get if we win?”
The kid eyed me for a minute longer before answering, “I’ll put in a good word for you with Markie.”
Bones coughed.
I almost swallowed my tongue. It took me a minute to recover, and then I asked, “What makes you think I need a good word with Markie?”
He blinked. “How dumb do you think I am?”
I didn’t want to touch that one, so I shrugged.
“I could call her right now. I got her phone number.”
My jaw dropped.
“Ah, you want her number, huh? I can give you that if you can take us on the court.”
I seriously considered beating the kid and taking it from him. Since I was sure that sort of behavior would be frowned upon, I refrained. “Markie and I are tight. If I wanted her number, I’d ask her for it.”
He laughed. “Uh-huh, sure. Markie’s been in this city all of ten minutes and she comes here lookin’ to help us out. Then you and your bodyguard come strollin’ in askin’ for her. I bet you lived here your whole life and you never thought about volunteering at no orphanage. You’re tryin’ to get a piece of that action.”
The casual way he sexualized Markie pissed me off. I tensed. “You better watch your mouth and stop talking about her like that. It’s disrespectful.”
He raised his hands in defense. “Okay man, chill. We got a deal or not?”
I wanted to get the little punk on the court and school him. “Fine, kid, you got a deal.” I held my hand out.
He slapped it. “The name’s Myles.”
Besides being observant, Myles was a phenomenal basketball player, especially for someone barely over four feet tall. We played street ball, first team to twenty-one won. He and his little gang of pocket-sized thugs were all over me and Bones from the instant our sneakers hit the court. The four young boys had at least thirty elbows between them, and each one ended up in my ribs at least twice. By the time we reached the second half, Bones and I were sweating harder than we ever did working out. We barely eked out a win, beating them by two points.
Myles tossed me the ball. “Double or nothing?” he asked.
“How are you going to double giving me Markie’s number?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll think of something. I’ll give you her number and might even be able to buy you some alone time with her.”
I looked to Bones and he nodded. He wanted another crack at the punk. Myles’s team won the second game, but thankfully he couldn’t resist the challenge of a third. Bones and I won, and then I met Myles midcourt.
“Markie’s number?” I asked.
“Hand me your phone. I’ll put it in.”
I chuckled. “You must think I was born yesterday. I’m not giving you my phone.” I pulled it out of my pocket and started entering a new contact. “Just tell
me her number.”
Myles rattled off a seven-oh-two number and I entered it, and then confirmed it aloud.
“Yeah, that’s it. Just don’t rat me out for giving it to you,” Myles said.
I had every intention of ratting him out. That was my whole plan for having her number without looking like a stalker.
Heads down, looking defeated, he and his goons cleared the court. Every muscle in my body was on fire but I held my head high as we walked out of the building and toward the Hummer. I thought about stopping by Markie’s but I was tired and sweaty, so I headed for home instead. Besides, I had her number. I pulled up the contact and dialed, running my opening line through my head.
“Vegas Paintballers, David speaking.”
I pulled the phone away and double checked the contact. Yep, that was the number he gave me. Of course. I dragged my hand down my face, amazed I could be so gullible.
“Sorry. I must have the wrong number.” I disconnected and threw the phone on the seat.
Bones started chuckling, and then he broke into a full-on belly laugh. “I can’t believe you just got played by that little shit.”
I flipped him off.
More laughter.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, still shaking my head.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Angel
SATURDAY MORNING I woke up to an absolutely delightful text from my father which read, ‘You get my money yet?’
I formed a number of responses in my mind, but since they’d all piss the old man off, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and replied with some badass line I’d heard Uncle Carlo use, promising money or blood by the end of the day. Contrary to my bravado, I dragged ass to the coffee machine and fired it up. A series of swear words preceded Bones’s appearance as he emerged from his room, stretching and groaning.
“I hear ya,” I replied. “Damn kids. I’m sore in muscles I didn’t know existed.”
“My ribs feel like I went five rounds in the ring against Muhammad Ali.” Bones stepped into the kitchen and went straight for a mug. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”
Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family #1) Page 11
