Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family #1)

by Amanda Washington

  “Interesting. Bones did a background check, but you—my son—clearly did not. Angel, you’re thorough. You would know who that is.” He pointed at the man in the picture. “And, you would have found this.” He retrieved an envelope out of his inside pocket, pulled a stack of papers out, and tossed them on top of the photos.

  I scooted forward and studied the transaction journal for Markie’s checking account. Her balance showed a little over five grand. Usual withdrawals: restaurants, clothing, cab, grocery store. There were also monthly deposits in the amount of three thousand, twenty-one dollars and fifteen cents. It looked like an automatic payroll deposit, but Markie had never mentioned a job.

  “What is this?” I asked, pointing to the acronym listed in the description column.

  “And that’s my question,” Father replied. “Who does she work for?”

  I shook my head. “She volunteers at the orphanage. She doesn’t have a job.”

  The old man clicked his tongue. He paused in front of the coffee table and picked up the picture of Markie with the man in the suit. He looked from the picture to me. “So you don’t know?”

  His question hung in the air, forcing me to face my stupidity. Markie was employed somewhere; the proof was in my hands. Why hadn’t she said anything?

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Damn it, Angel, you’re better than this. I can’t believe after that last bitch, you’d blindly follow some broad. Will you ever learn?”

  His words stung worse than his backhand. Mostly because I knew he was right. I also knew it didn’t change how I felt about Markie. I was a fool.

  Father shook his head, clearly disgusted with me. “What’s her motivation?”

  I thought back to each time I’d run into her, trying to find something that connected the experiences. Maybe I was just being optimistic, but I couldn’t find anything.

  “Follow the money to find the motivation.” He pointed at the bank statement. “Do you know how much federal agents make?”

  He thinks she’s a Fed. The idea was so ridiculous, I had to stop myself from laughing aloud. I looked to Bones, but my friend’s face was a mask.

  Father shoved the photo into my face. “This man she’s with… he goes by the name of James Frank. He’s a known agent, and most likely her contact at the bureau. But there’s more.”

  Father thumbed on his phone and showed me a picture of an unfamiliar man in his late fifties wearing a decent suit. He handed me the phone and said, “Scroll down.”

  The caption beneath the photo read, ‘Jay Lawson, Boise County Chief Deputy Prosecutor.’

  “What does the Boise D.A. have to do with Markie?” I asked, handing him back his phone.

  “That’s her uncle; her mother’s brother. The man who had custody of your friend and her sister after their mother died. By the way, her mother died in the line of duty at the courthouse. Again, something you’d know if you weren’t too pussy-whipped to do a goddamn background check. Always so desperate to see the good in people. Just like your mother,” he spat, like it was some sort of curse.

  He never talked about her. Not one word since the day we laid her in the ground. My ears perked up at the mention of her.

  Father held out his hand. “Angel, don’t. Now is not the time,” he warned. His eyes were hard, and his frame shook with barely controlled rage.

  My jaw snapped shut. I lowered the tissue to the coffee table, strangely mesmerized by the blood. Memories danced in the back of my mind. Clips and pieces. Laughter. Music. Mother sobbing, a newspaper clutched in her hands. The smell of bleach. Father leaning over the bathtub, washing blood from a mop. Then just like that, they were gone.

  Father’s expression shifted. Guilt and remorse flitted across his face for a brief moment before vanishing under hardened resolve. “This was sloppy, Angel. You disappoint me,” he said. “Now, to clean up the mess …” He scratched his cheek. He studied the photos for a few moments, and then looked from Bones to me.

  If he ordered a hit—if he told us to make Markie disappear—I didn’t know what I’d do. Would Bones take her out to save us both? Would I be able to stop him if he tried? Maybe we were destined for some Romeo and Juliet shit after all.

  But Father surprised me. He didn’t order Markie’s hit. Instead, he steepled his hands and said, “The Feds have given us a valuable game piece, and we need to use it. I need you to stick close to her, Angel. Flip the script and romance her. Soon we can start feeding her information about the Pelino family, stuff we want leaked to the Feds. If we can use them to bring our enemies down… well, maybe you didn’t screw up too badly.”

  He was justifying his decision to let me live. More importantly, he was letting Markie live. At least for now. There was only one problem.

  “I don’t think she’s interested in a relationship with me,” I said, Markie’s rejection still weighing heavily on me.

  Father leaned back on his heels. “Well, that’s unfortunate. If I can’t watch her, I’ll need to get rid of her. I’d hate to do that, Angel. I don’t need heat from the Feds right now, not with the Pelino family making their move.”

  It was a warning, and I heard it loud and clear. “I’ll change her mind.”

  “Good. See that you do. And quickly. I want to meet her at dinner tomorrow.”

  He gave the coffee table one last glance, but left the photos and the bank journal where they were. I walked him to the door. His phone buzzed, and he paused in the door frame long enough to look at it. Then he swore and keyed in a response.

  “Tech found Dante somewhere he’s not supposed to be,” Father said to me. “Turns out your brother is making the same stupid decisions you are. I need you and Bones to go handle this and set him straight. Tech will send you the details.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Angel

  “MARKIE… A FED?” Bones asked as he climbed into the Hummer’s passenger seat. “Wow. Didn’t see that one coming.”

  I nodded, still unable to believe it myself. “Yep.”

  “And not only does the Boss want her alive and unharmed, but he wants you to take her to Sunday dinner?”

  My friend was clearly having as hard a time with this as I was. “Yep.” One word answers were all I could seem to manage.

  “How are you doing with all of this?” Bones asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  As an external processor, Bones liked to lay everything out, gauge everyone’s reactions, and force it all to make sense. Although I knew what he was trying to do, I couldn’t help him, because nothing made sense. Not one damn thing. I had approached Markie in the pizzeria. We had run into her the second time in Matt’s apartment when Ariana almost died. After which, I had pursued her. How the hell could anyone set that up?

  Besides, Markie wasn’t like any woman I’d ever dated. Surely anyone setting me up would have surveyed the women I’d dated to get my type. Based on my history, Markie was the exact opposite of what my type would be. Would a federal agent have invited a homeless man to eat lunch with us? Would she volunteer at an orphanage?

  And what about the way Markie looked at me? I swear it was like she saw past the money, past the cars and the clothes, past the family. Like she saw me. Not the bad-ass my father expected me to be, nor someone to always pay her way and solve her every problem. She looked at me like we were equals. No judgment, no expectations.

  No reality. It was all a lie.

  “You okay?” Bones asked.

  I shook my head. Hell no I wasn’t okay. “Let’s just find my brother, all right?”

  For Dante’s sixteenth birthday, Father and Rachele had bought him a shiny red BMW. Tricked out with more horsepower than his now seventeen-year-old self knew what to do with, the Bimmer had a system like mine which kept him connected to Tech. As Father promised, Tech sent me Dante’s location and the details of my little brother’s most recent screwup.

  Bones and I found the Bimmer parked on West Baltimore Avenue in front of a rundown tw
o-story apartment building. I idled behind my brother’s car and checked out the area. The few working streetlights didn’t show me much. A chest-high chain-link fence surrounded the building, and a sign on the gate warned of security camera monitoring. Across the street lay a vacant field, cloaked in darkness. The dented old truck in front of Dante’s Bimmer was missing a back tire.

  I put the Hummer in park, killed the engine, and dialed Dante’s cell. No answer. I hung up and called again. Still no answer. I hung up and tried a third time. Dante picked up sounding frustrated and out of breath.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “What, no hello? No ‘how was your trip’? I’m hurt, little bro.”

  “Kinda busy right now. Can I call you back in a bit?”

  “Nope. In fact, I’m going to need you to come outside. We have a few things to discuss.”

  Bones and I climbed out of the Hummer and leaned against it, watching the apartment building.

  A mini-blind flickered in the window of the upstairs center unit. Dante swore. “You’re here? Why?”

  Some girl in the background asked what was going on.

  “Is that a girl?” I gasped in mock outrage. “You got a broad up there with you? Is that why you’re too busy to answer my calls?”

  “Come on, Angel, stop screwing around. You know how it is.”

  By all accounts, Dante was the one screwing around. My frustrated little brother was flexing his independence and spending the night at his girlfriend’s house. Too bad he hadn’t realized his independence was a high-interest loan he couldn’t afford and Father had sent me to repossess his ass.

  “You want us to come up there and drag you down with your pants around your ankles?”

  “Don’t be a dick, Angel.”

  “Don’t make me. Get your ass down here. Now.” I glanced at my watch. “You have one minute.”

  I disconnected the call and waited. Within moments, feet hit the landing. Rusted metal stairs creaked under his weight as he pounded down the steps. Fifty-three seconds after I’d made the demand, a five-foot-seven disgruntled Italian stormed toward us. His feet were bare, and as he walked, he buttoned his rumpled shirt.

  “D’Angelo. Bones.” He nodded to each of us in turn, as little sparks of anger ignited in his eyes. Dante had our father’s temper, but not the old man’s power. If he didn’t learn to rein it in, he’d end up pissing off the wrong person long before he became a made man.

  Talking on the street was out of the question, even in times of peace between the families. I greeted my brother and ushered him into the front seat of the Hummer before settling myself back behind the wheel.

  Bones climbed into the back. “Where’s Pietro?” he asked Dante.

  Pietro was my brother’s full-time security guard. Also a senior in high school, Pietro was the son of one of Father’s soldiers. The boy had rearranged his school schedule and life to align with Dante’s so he could protect him. Yet he was gone.

  “How am I supposed to know?” Dante asked.

  I leveled my best I-will-make-you-eat-my-fist glare at him.

  “Fine. I sent him to go get us weed. I wanted a little privacy with my girl and could use a little relax. No big deal.”

  I shook my head, chuckling. We were in the middle of a war and my little brother was without a guard so the two of them could get high. It was the very definition of a big deal. “So, you’re alone in this neighborhood at night? I’ll be sure to let Father know you don’t think it’s a big deal, though.”

  Dante swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the effort. “Okay, fine, it was stupid. But you know how it is with Bones always hanging around. Don’t you ever want to get away from him for a while?”

  I was lucky to have Bones watching my back. “No. That would be stupid. Especially right now.”

  Seeing he wasn’t going to get any sympathy from me, Dante lowered his head. “Sorry. I promise not to do it again.”

  Rehearsed, meaningless words. I flicked them aside with a wave. “We both know you’ll do it again, and you’ll most likely die from it, at this rate. But your future suicide isn’t my concern today. Father asked me to talk to you about the girl.”

  “What girl?” Dante asked. His gaze flickered toward the apartment before returning to me.

  I chuckled. “My guess? The one you’re trying to be alone with.”

  He sighed. “All right, fine, there’s a girl. We’re just having fun.”

  “Having so much fun you paid both her rent and her car payment last month?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Father says you need to end it. Yesterday.”

  He paled. “What? Why?”

  “Your buddy Rodge has been skimping on what he’s been sending up to Father. The old man confronted him about it and Rodge rolled over on you. He says you shacked up with his best girl and now she’s not showing up to work.”

  He glanced up at the apartment window. “Mia and I are together now. I don’t want her hooking anymore.”

  If only it were that easy. “Everything comes with a price, bro, you know that.” I leaned closer to him, lowering my voice. “You and me, we’re privileged. We drive fast cars, we wear designer clothes, chicks throw themselves at us, we get whatever we want. But it all comes with a price. We have to play the game by his rules. He says end it, you damn well better end it.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m sick of playing by his rules.”

  Bones cracked his neck and leaned forward, putting a hand on my brother’s shoulder.

  Dante rolled his eyes. “You can quit flexing, Bones. You wouldn’t hurt me. Neither of you would.”

  Curious, I cocked my head. “Why don’t you think I’d hurt you?” I asked.

  “We’re family. I’m a son.”

  Bones and I both got a good chuckle out of that.

  “What?” Dante asked.

  “You really think being family exempts you from being punished? Dante, look at my cheek. I’m family, too. Hell, I’m the eldest.”

  The anger in Dante’s eyes was replaced by uncertainty as he studied my wound. “He hit you?” he asked.

  “Yep. Ripped the skin off with his big-ass ring.”

  Dante’s eyes widened.

  Good. Time for a wakeup call, little bro. “Father will hurt you. Hell, I will hurt you, Dante. You’re my brother and I love you, but if I call in and my capo orders me to whack you, I will. I would pull the piece out of my pocket and put two in your pig-headed brain. It would be quick and clean and you would be dead. Anyone in the family would do the same: Cousin Alberto, Uncle Carlo, even Pietro will put you on ice if the old man orders it.” I glanced over my shoulder at Bones. “Bones is my best friend. You know we’ve been tight since grade school. He’s always had my back and I know he loves me like a brother. If Father were to put out a hit on me, Bones would have to take it. If he didn’t, Father would take me out anyway, and then send someone after Bones next. You get what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, but come on, Angel. You know what it’s like to have a girl.”

  Oh, he had no idea. I leveled a hard stare at him. “Yeah. I’ve had a few girls. Like Leilana. Remember her?”

  Dante’s eyes widened. After Leilana’s disappearance, my brother had drilled me for information. Wanting to shield him, I’d kept my mouth shut. Now he was old enough to know the truth.

  “Hey Bones, you remember Leilana?” I glanced over my shoulder.

  Bones shrugged. “Yeah, she was a babe. They ever find her body?”

  “Never,” I replied.

  Bones frowned. “Tragic.”

  Dante stared back at the apartment building. I wondered if his girl was up there watching us now.

  “You don’t get a free pass because you’re a son, Dante. Your blood got you the courtesy of this conversation. No more.”

  He looked like he was about to argue, but I cut him off.

  “Besides, what’s your plan? You’re seventeen. You’re still in high school. You gonna
support this girl on your allowance? Bring her to family functions? Introduce her to your mom? How old is Mia, anyway?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  Bones snorted.

  I shook my head and tried to spell it out for him. “And what do you think a twenty-three-year-old prostitute wants with a seventeen-year-old kid?”

  “It’s not like that, Angel.”

  “It’s exactly like that. Congratulations, you’re a meal ticket.”

  He scowled at me. “You don’t know that. You don’t see how we are together.”

  But I could imagine, and I doubt their relationship ever left the bedroom. Mia knew what she was doing.

  “I don’t care if you’re her goddamn soul mate. Doesn’t matter. Father said end it. He’s under a lot of pressure right now and he needs us out there making allies, not acting like entitled little bastards and pissing off earners. You hear me?”

  His scowl deepened.

  Frustrated, I let out a breath. Dante’s fear of the consequences had to outweigh his libido, because truthfully, there was no way in hell I could kill my little brother. If Father gave the order, he’d have to kill us both.

  I steeled my expression and stared at him, waiting.

  He started fidgeting. Then finally his scowl broke and he looked down, defeated. “Yeah. I hear ya.”

  “Good. You won’t get any more warnings, Dante. If I have to talk to you again, I’ll blow up your car. I only hope Father lets me do it without you in it.”

  That got his attention. His fear stared back at me. I drank it in, refusing to look away. Both of our lives depended on it.

  Congratulations, Angel. You’ve scared your little brother, you dick.

  I released him and he turned to climb out of the Hummer.

  “Wait.” I grabbed his shoulder, remembering the bomb I’d found under my Hummer. If Dante wasn’t being careful, I wouldn’t need to blow up his car. “Be sure to use the scanner Father gave you. It won’t protect you from me, but it should warn you about anything the Pelinos throw your way.”