by Harley Stone
“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 a
t 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.
CHAPTER SIX
Ariana
AFTER THE FRUSTRATING ride to work with Bones, I was ready to scream or punch something. Preferably him. No matter what I did, he treated me like a little kid. Like a friend. Ugh. I wanted to smack that word right out of his mouth. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to accept it.
Bones and I were friends.
Fine. Whatever.
I needed to keep my mind busy before I lost it. Thankfully, the dinner shifts were always hopping, and today was no exception. Hurrying into the manager’s office, I found the man the waitresses had not-so-lovingly nicknamed Pervy Pete sitting behind his desk studying his computer screen.
“Hey Pete, mind if I clock in early?” I asked.
He startled, then straightened. “Ariana. Welcome back. It’s great to see you. No, I don’t mind at all. Clock in any time you want.”
Weird. I’d been expecting some level of awkwardness—the guy had fired me, after all—but he was downright friendly and not at all his normal pervy self. His gaze didn’t even drift over my body before returning to his monitor. Whatever means of persuasion Bones had used must have been pretty compelling.
I should probably be worried about that, but instead it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Bones had gone to bat for me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared about me enough to do that. Now, if only I could get him to stop treating me like a little kid and give in to what we both wanted...
“Hey girl,” my coworker, Harlow, said as soon as I walked into the kitchen. Her short, dark hair was spiked with blue tips. With a septum ring, thick, dark eyeliner, a choker, and combat boots, her uniform made her look like some punk rock BDSM centerfold. She bumped her hip into mine as I tied on my apron. “Heard Pervy Pete gave you your job back. It’s good to see you. How’s your sister?”
“Recovering.” I filled a water pitcher, not wanting to talk about Markie. My brain was too full, and my hangover was still lingering. I didn’t want to talk, or think, about anything. I wanted to work and keep myself busy. “Need help with any of your tables?”
She gave me a bolstering smile, no doubt seeing right through my change of subject. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely. I haven’t been around with water in a while. Watch table fourteen. The guy in the Hawaiian shirt is a bit handsy.”
Just like that, I fell back into my normal routine, helping the waitresses on duty until my shift officially started. Then I joined in the rotation and took over my own tables. The restaurant had a steady flow of customers, keeping my mind and body blissfully busy. Far too busy to think or worry or be lonely. Before I knew it, I was on my last break, leaning against a wall in the casino and checking social media on my phone.
“Hey baby,” a familiar voice said, pulling my attention to the man who’d stopped directly in front of me.
Matt. He looked different than the last time I’d seen him. Wearing a suit (instead of a condom wrapper), his hair was shorter and his face shaven. His eyes were still dark, but he looked good. Healthy. I was both relieved and angry that the bastard wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. He’d claimed to love me, but had abandoned me when I’d needed him most. No, he’d almost killed me, then drove away, flipping me the bird as he went.
And now, months later, he was back.
I folded my arms and asked, “Nice suit. Did my money pay for that?”
His frown told me it wasn’t the reception he’d been expecting, which only pissed me off more. What did he expect? I’d trusted him, and Matt had royally screwed me over, stomped on my heart, took my money, and left. Now he was back wearing a new tailored suit and shiny black oxfords.
“Don’t be like that, baby. I missed you.”
I used to love it when he called me baby. Now it made me want to rip out his tongue. “Cut the bullshit and tell me what you want, Matt. I don’t have any more money, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
He held up his hands in the universal gesture for surrender and took a hesitant step toward me. “Not at all. I’m here to redeem myself.”
Not likely. “Stay back,” I warned, scooting against the wall, back toward the safety of the restaurant. I didn’t think Matt would hurt me, but I didn’t exactly want to be alone with him, either.
“But I have good news,” Matt said, grinning. His gaze darted to a security camera, and he shifted, turning his back toward it.
I glanced from Matt to the camera, wondering who he was hiding from now. Matt had screwed over a lot of people, including Bones. Knowing I should text Bones and tell him Matt was here, I glanced at my phone. “Why should I believe anything you say? You tried to kill me. What the hell did you give me that night, anyway?”
“Nothing I didn’t take myself, remember? I didn’t try to kill you, Ari. I love you! You must have had some crazy reaction. Maybe you were allergic or something?”
“So, you knew I was in the hospital and you stayed away? Didn’t even make sure I survived? Sounds like some messed up kind of love to me.”
“I tried to get in to see you, but your sister was there the whole time. That bitch threatened to call the cops on me. Besides, I knew I fucked up and I n
eeded to find a way to make it up to you. Which I did. That’s why I’m here. Ari, I got you an audition!” He took another big step toward me.
“An audition?” I asked, looking up from my phone in the middle of typing Bones out a message. As my manager, Matt had been trying to get me on a stage—any stage—since I’d moved to Vegas a year ago and started feeding him money to represent me. To be fair, he had gotten me some auditions, but I’d suffered through enough pole dancing and twerking in front of perverted old men to last me a life time. I wanted to sing, dammit, and he’d never been able to get me that kind of audition. Fed up, I shook my head. “I’m broke and disillusioned, Matt. Go find someone else to buy your bullshit.”
His smile faltered. “Wait!”
Turning my back on him, I headed back to work.
“It’s a singing audition, Ari. At the Acropolis.”
My feet stilled as my stomach leapt into my throat. My brain knew better than to trust Matt, but my heart wouldn’t listen. Singing at the Acropolis could give me the kind of in that I needed to launch my career. It would be an incredible opportunity, if it was real.
His footsteps neared until he stood in front of me again. “I know there’s no excuse for the shit I pulled, but I want to make this right. I miss you. I miss all the good times we had. I know I owe you, so I borrowed some money and bought a suit so I could rep you better. They let me in to talk to the manager and—”
I refused to get caught up in another one of Matt’s lies. How many times had he disappointed me? Manipulated me? Used my dream against me? No matter how badly I wanted to sing, I couldn’t trust him. “Oh yeah? What’s the manager’s name?”
Matt didn’t hesitate. “Doug Benson. Nice guy. A little abrupt, but he’s busy. He listened to your tracks—the ones we paid for you to produce in Danny’s studio—and he loved them. He loved you. Said I could bring you in for auditions this Tuesday night.”