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.
“Hello Bones. This is James from security. You said to let you know when Ms. Davis left her apartment. It looks like she’s heading for the elevator now. Would you like me to detain her in the lobby or let her leave?”
I thought about it for a solid five seconds. It would be fitting to have Ariana detained and somewhat humiliated for not following my instructions, but I needed her to trust me—not hate me—if I was going to keep her safe. And so far, I hadn’t exactly won her over. “Let her pass,” I said, slipping on my shoes. “And have someone bring my Jeep around.”
“Yessir.”
I hung up and slid my holster over my shoulders. My cracked ribs protested, making my vision swim. I shook off the pain and checked my Glock. Full magazine, check. Safety on, check. Covering both gun and holster with a jacket, I headed back out to the table where Angel was still working.
“Ari?” he asked.
“What was your first clue?”
“That vein throbbing in your forehead. I think she’s the only one who does that to you.”
Fuck. “I told her I was taking her to work today.”
Angel chuckled. “Maybe next time you should ask her, not tell her.”
I fought the urge to flip him off as I walked out, knowing he was probably right. Normally I was the one who was good with people—Angel was good with things—but Ariana always managed to short circuit my brain. Whenever I was around her, stupid shit came out of my mouth and I couldn’t stop pissing her off. I must have sounded like the most insensitive son-of-a-bitch on the planet today. No wonder she’d kicked me out of her apartment. I don’t know why I said that shit, but ever since Matt’s dirty dope had almost killed her, I felt an overwhelming need to protect her. This need only intensified when Markie was in the hospital. Angel had stayed by her side, so I’d spent most of my time with Ariana, and had learned that she was one cool chick.
But she had horrible taste in men.
First Matt, and now me? She was so much better than a drug dealer or a wiseguy, and I needed to protect her until she figured that shit out. Of course, the thought of Ariana with any man bunched up my shoulders and made me want to hit something. Angry just thinking about it, I hurried to the elevator and out to the bus stop.
One look at Ariana’s work uniform made me regret that I’d convinced her manager to rehire her. The top of the black one-piece tank-skirt thing dipped down between her breasts and the bottom ended right below her ass. I didn’t know where to look first, her long sexy legs or her inviting cleavage. She shouldn’t be wearing that in public. Hell, she shouldn’t even be wearing that around me. As she stood inside the plexiglass shelter, watching her phone, some pervert stared at her ass. Not me. Some other pervert.
I moved to block his view and loomed over Ariana. “Hey,” I said.
She startled, which told me she wasn’t paying a lick of attention to her surroundings. Any asshole could have nabbed her, and she wouldn’t have even seen it coming. That would be the first thing we addressed when I taught her self-defense.
“You ready for me to take you to work?” I asked.
She recovered from me scaring her and stared me down. “I told you, I can take the bus.”
Unaffected by her bitch face, I closed the distance between us and lowered my voice. “Listen, babe. Either you come with me, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. I’m protecting your sweet ass, whether you like it or not.”
She pulled back enough to look in my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
I shrugged. “Try me.”
The bus was approaching. My ribs hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t hesitate to follow through with my promise. If she made for that bus, I had every intention of intercepting her. She must have seen as much in my expression, because her shoulders sagged in defeat.
“Fine. But you’re a real asshole, you know that, Bones?”
“I’ve been called worse. Come on.” I led her away from the bus shelter toward the front of the building where the valet had my Jeep waiting. I opened Ariana’s door for her before climbing in behind the wheel and heading out.
She brooded in the passenger’s seat as I fought traffic on the strip. Knowing I needed to fix things between us, I threw out an olive branch. “You have some time before your shift starts. You hungry?”
“Nope,” was her clipped reply.
“Have any errands you need to run?”
“Nope.”
I blew out a breath. “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said that shit. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You probably don’t remember that night we took you to the hospital, but I do. I thought you were gonna die. And that fucking outfit...”
She glanced down at herself. “What’s wrong with my outfit? This is my uniform.”
“I know. I just wish there was more to it. You shouldn’t be walking around Vegas dressed like that.”
“Wow.” She stared at me. “Do you ever get tired of telling people what to do? You gonna complain to my boss and get our dress code changed next?”
I was screwing this up again. I went to scrub my hand through my hair in frustration, but winced as my rib shifted. Settled my hand back on the steering wheel, I sucked in a deep breath.
“You okay?” Ariana asked.
Even pissed at me she was still concerned, and that was the kind of shit that did me in about her. As the hired muscle, I wasn’t used to anyone other than Angel worrying about my well-being. I usually didn’t let people get that close to me, but somehow Ariana had weaseled her way in, which felt both comforting and disconcerting. “Yeah, just sore,” I replied.
She eyed me. “You got stitches.”
“Angel’s good with a needle.” And I didn’t like talking about myself. Changing the subject, I asked, “So… do you need to go anywhere? Do anything? Consider me your private pro bono taxi.”
“I’m sure they’re not paying you enough for all that, Bones. You don’t have to hang out with me. You can drop me off at work. I can walk the casino until it’s time for my shift.”
Stung, I asked, “Is that what you think? That I only hang out with you because it’s part of the job?”
“Your words, not mine.”
I tried to think back to what I’d said that made her believe that, but came up short. “Ari, I like hanging out with you. For a chick, you’re not half bad.”
She cracked a smile. “Thanks. I think.”
“I mean it. I don’t know what I said to make you believe differently, but I consider you a friend.”
Her smile faltered, and then disappeared completely. “A friend.”
Wondering what the problem was, I nodded. “Yeah. A good friend.”
“Please just drop me off at work,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m good. I don’t have any errands to run and they might be busy and let me clock in early.”
She was pissed about the friend comment. If the way she’d come on to me last night was any indication, she wanted more, but I couldn’t offer her that. My life was already bound to Angel and the Marianis, and the life expectancy for a mafia bodyguard and hitman was shit. She deserved someone who could be wholly devoted to her.
That would never be me.
Still, the hurt look in her eyes made me feel like shit. Frustrated and powerless to do a damn thing about it, I dropped her off and then focused on work, heading to the first location Angel and I had looked into. It was a warehouse owned by one of the smaller families that we didn’t much pay attention to. Angel hacked into the city’s camera footage and we watched it long enough to determine that the warehouse didn’t see much traffic. Not nearly enough traffic to hide a mafia son. Still, I knew I had to check it out.
Nobody was around, so I parked my Jeep where it was hidden from street traffic and climbed up on the garbage dumpster behind the building to hoist myself up to a small window. Careful not to block the sunlight in case someone was inside, I peeked in and saw no movement. A few high-value vehicles at various stages of disassembly filled the warehouse, making me believe this was some sort of staging area for the smaller family’s chop shop. Seeing no evidence that anyone was holed up in the warehouse, and knowing (thanks to the research I’d done with Angel) that the place had an alarm, I headed back to my Jeep to try the next location.
I checked out another warehouse, this one registered under an independent owner who was unaffiliated with any of the families. At least Angel hadn’t been able to find any mob ties. It was small and mostly empty, except a covered pile leaning against the wall. I’d love to find out what was hiding under the cover, but knew this warehouse had an alarm on it as well, which just made me more suspicious. Why alarm a mostly empty warehouse? That pile had to be worth something.
The Mariani family employed an anonymous technical genius we all referred to as ‘Tech.’ I could call him and have him hack into the alarm and disarm it long enough for me to break in and check out the pile. But after the last Tech’s betrayal and the way Carlo was on edge, I held off. I needed more information… I wanted to draw a few more cards before I showed anyone my hand.
After the second warehouse, I drove to Henderson and parked in the lot of a three-story office building. The third location on the list from Christian was a small distribution company headquartered out of the second floor of this building. According to their website, they distributed party and event supplies. Wondering what their connection to Joey Durante was, I made my way to the second floor and walked by the office.
A receptionist sat at a desk reading a book, and I could see two small offices behind her. One was empty, and one held a man I didn’t recognize, who was on the phone. Like most of Vegas, the office was probably a front for something, but so far Angel hadn’t been able to figure out what—or more importantly, who—was fronting it.
With all three locations churning up more questions in my mind, I headed back toward home only to realize I had a tail. The same silver Camry with a dented passenger’s side front fender I’d seen after the second warehouse was hanging two cars back. I changed lanes and hung a left, and the silver Camry followed.
Curious, I turned into a parking lot and watched it pass. A woman with long, dark hair sat in the passenger’s seat. She was looking at my car, but when our gazes me, she turned away. Too late. I’d already made her from the images Carlo had shared with me. I turned my jeep around and slammed on the gas, cutting off a truck as I merged back into traffic three cars behind the Camry.
The driver of the truck honked, but I was too busy speeding up to pay him any mind. The Camry accelerated, changing lanes to weave through traffic, and I followed. It changed lanes again, and darted down a side street. By the time I made the lane change, I was past the street. I whipped around and floored the gas pedal, but by the time I made the correct turn, the silver Camry was long gone.