Breaking Bones (Mariani Crime Family #2)

by Amanda Washington

  “I’m taking you to work today,” Bones said, pulling my attention back to his face and my mind out of his pants, reminding me what a bossy control freak he could be.

  Lucky for him, I was too exhausted to argue. “Whatever.” Bones wasn’t the boss of me, and he had a lot going on. If I really wanted to, I could sneak out and catch the bus before he even knew I was gone. I’d done it yesterday and, judging by the scowl on his face, he still hadn’t forgiven me.

  Why had I done it? I don’t know. Maybe because I felt suffocated and helpless in my own damn life. Maybe I wanted to feel like I could do one thing on my own, even if that one thing was as simple and stupid as getting to work without a babysitter. Or maybe I was immature and acting out. What the hell did they expect from me? I’d been happily living on my own before they invaded my life and started bossing me around. Making a mental note to analyze my motivation further when I was more awake, I reached for the sugar.

  Bones beat me to it, clapping down the lid as he watched me. We were inches apart—so close I could feel his body heat—and he gave me a cocky half-smile that made my brain short circuit. “I’m taking you to work today,” he repeated.

  The challenge in his voice had an interesting effect on me. I couldn’t decide whether to cower in a corner, come out swinging, or wrap my legs around him and rake my fingers through his military-short dark hair as I kissed him into submission. I would have been all over that last option had the sexy bastard not friend-zoned me early on, but there was no way in hell I was cowering in the corner. Swinging was my only option. I held his gaze and stepped into him. I hadn’t put on a bra yet, so only the thin fabric of my night shirt and his tank top separated me from his delicious wall of muscle. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as I reached around him and plucked the sugar container from his grasp. His eyes darkened, betraying the fact he wasn’t as immune to my advances as he pretended to be.

  My lips were inches from his when I repeated my earlier answer. “Whatever.”

  His crooked smile faltered and he stepped away. He always backed down first. I didn’t like to play games, but Bones was forcing my hand. Knowing I’d affected him, I smiled and sweetened my coffee.

  “You got time to hit the gym?” he asked. He’d moved over by the fridge, putting the entire kitchen between us, the chicken.

  “Yeah, yeah. Give me five.”

  I crept back into the bedroom and threw on my workout clothes between sips of caffeine. By the time I reemerged Bones stood by the door, still wearing his tank top, but had swapped his pajama pants for athletic shorts and sneakers. I downed the rest of my coffee and we headed out. Neither of us had the gift of small talk, so the elevator ride was blissfully silent and charged with sexual tension. Regardless, he didn’t even twitch when I “accidentally” brushed against him on my way out of the car.

  The condo building had an incredible gym, made up of three separate spaces. One room held weights and cardio equipment, one held an indoor lap pool and hot tub, and the last was stocked with punching bags, yoga mats, and Pilates balls. It seemed a bit much for an apartment building, but Angel’s dad owned the place and he clearly had money to spare.

  Bones and I stretched, and then warmed up with cardio and weights before he asked, “Feel like trying some boxing?”

  By that time I’d woken up enough to return to my smartass self, so I settled into a fighting stance, thumbed my nose, and put up my dukes. “Sure. I think I can take you. Let’s do this.” Besides, I’d been trying for weeks to get my hands on Bones. If this was what it took, I was willing to get a few bruises.

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “How about we try the bags first?”

  He led me into the room and positioned me in front of the nearest bag. The scent of Bones—a delicious blend of shower gel, sweat, and metal—invaded my senses as he leveled my fists, adjusted my shoulders, and situated my upper body. My pulse skyrocketed and goose bumps sprouted across my skin. The rock-hard muscles of his chest tempted me to explore every dip and curve. Hoping he wouldn’t notice my body’s many reactions to his proximity, I said the first thing I could think of to distract us both. “This is the part where I fly like a bee, right?”

  He chuckled again. “Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee.”

  I loved Bones’s laugh. His deep, throaty chuckle caressed my senses, making me want more of it. More of him. I did not, however, want him to be laughing at me. Trying to play it cool, I refused to be embarrassed. “Psht. That’s totally what I said. Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves?”

  He pulled my arms in closer to my chest and turned my fists. “We’re not doing that kind of boxing. I’m gonna show you how to defend yourself if someone comes at you on the street. For the next time you decide to go off and do your own thing.” He gave me a pointed look. “Chances are you won’t be wearing gloves.”

  I shrugged. “I could be, though. Boxing gloves are in this year.”

  That earned me a smile. “Hit the bag, Ari.”

  I took a swing, made contact, and the bag moved maybe an inch. Fail.

  “You dropped your shoulder,” Bones admonished, readjusting my stance.

  When? How? All I’d done was swing. “No I didn’t.”

  He cocked his head. “Yes, you did. Here, step into it and swing like this. Move your arm, not your shoulder.” He demonstrated the move and I tried not to gawk at the way his muscles flexed. “Your turn.”

  I did my best to mimic his swing. This time the bag moved a little further.

  “Did you see that?” I asked. “I’m a badass. You can have my autograph though.” And I planned to write it with my fingers… right across his chest.

  “Keep it up,” he said, stepping toward his own bag.

  I threw half-hearted punches as I watched Bones dish out some serious punishment. As his bag swung to and fro, he seemed to anticipate every rotation, stepping around and countering its rebounds like a pro. It was an incredible sight, and it took everything I had in me to focus on my own bag enough to give it the occasional punch. I was probably drooling, but I didn’t care. The man was so hot all he had to do was beat on an inanimate object to make me pant.

  Desperate to match his thug status and prove I wasn’t some wimpy loser, I stepped up my game, punching harder and harder. My bag swung wider and wider as odd battle cries tore from my throat, like I was channeling that butterfly guy. Screw that. I was gonna be the next Ronda Rousey. But before I could even say “cage match” my bag swung too hard and plowed into me. I panicked and flung my arms around it, locking it in a hug. It swayed. I swayed with it.

  Bones glanced over at me and arched an eyebrow.

  I patted the bag, hoping he’d mistake the red of my face for exertion. “We just made up. I kicked his ass, he apologized. We’re cool now.”

  “So… you’re dancing?”

  Yep. I was still swaying with the bag. I released it and stepped away, eyeing the bag lest it come at me for another round. “How is this supposed to teach me to protect myself?”

  “The more you hit the bag, the more comfortable you’ll get with swinging punches. The key is not to hesitate. When you get a shot, you take it.”

  It sounded like he was repeating something he’d heard. “So, if someone attacks me, this will help me punch them?”

  He took another swing at his bag. “Or kick them, or poke out their eye, or whatever. When it’s about survival, you fight as dirty as you need to.”

  I considered his words while sizing up my bag and pretending it was an attacker. I hit it, kicked it, and kneed it in the crotch.

  “That’s better,” Bones said.

  “You been in a lot of fights?” I asked.

  “As many as necessary.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “Sure it was.”

  His crooked smile and elusive answers made me want to punch him. Then kiss him. Then maybe punch him again. Trying a different angle, I asked, “Do you like to fight?”

  Bones’s brow f
urrowed as he hit his bag a few more times. “I’m a bodyguard, Ari. It kinda goes with the job.”

  Another non-answer. “Yeah, okay. But say you weren’t a bodyguard. Pretend you could be anything in the world. What would you want to be?”

  Bones’s gaze cut to something above my head before he looked away. I followed his glance to the dark glass bubble hiding a security camera. They were all over Vegas.

  “I like being Angel’s bodyguard,” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “I have everything I need. Nothing else I could imagine doing.”

  His declaration made me both jealous and sad. Jealous because he seemed genuinely content with his life. He knew what he wanted to do, and he was doing it. But at the same time, it made me sad because I realized he had no life dreams or goals. Sure, I was a waitress, but I had hope of being something more. There was zero hope in Bones’s eyes, and he seemed fine with that. I wanted to know why, but before I could launch my barrage of questions at him, he stepped away from his bag and nodded toward the door.

  “We should head up, Ari. You gotta get ready for work.”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he was right. Following him to the door, I swallowed my questions. For now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Bones

  I TOOK ARIANA to work, but before she got out of the Hummer she made me promise to be careful.

  I hadn’t told her a damn thing about my job, but the girl didn’t miss a thing. I really liked that about her, even though it often frustrated the hell out of me. “I’m always careful.”

  She beamed me a beautiful smile before wrapping me in a quick good-bye hug. I stiffened, both wanting her touch and wanting to avoid her all together.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she called out, like she didn’t try to ditch me every chance she got.

  I watched as she headed into the casino. Her short black uniform showed off her long, sexy legs and her slender waist. Her caramel-colored hair came just past her chin, teasing me with glimpses of her perfect neck. Heads turned as she walked by, but Ariana didn’t seem to notice. The girl had no clue how hot she really was, which was another thing I liked about her.

  As I pulled away from the curb, Carlo called me in for a meeting at his home office. No matter how good Angel’s phone distorters were, most of the old-school wiseguys still didn’t trust technology and insisted on in-person meetings. Carlo Mariani was as old-school as they came, only carrying around a cell phone because the boss insisted on being able to reach him at all times.

  Carlo’s house was a modest, split-level Southwestern stucco in a gated community. A guard greeted me by the garage entrance and took me past the same Jaguar that had pulled up to my middle school thirteen years ago. Carlo had to be loaded, but neither his home nor his car showed it. I wouldn’t put it past him to keep his millions buried in booby-trapped jars in his backyard, waiting for the first disillusioned schmuck to think he was smart enough to steal from the underboss of the Mariani family. Thankfully, that would never be me.

  The guard passed me on to the live-in housekeeper, Constanza. She was a little Hispanic woman in her early fifties, and Carlo had kept her around for as long as I’d known him. He’d never married, and I had a sneaking suspicion she did a lot more than cooking and cleaning around there.

  “Bones, it is so nice to see you!” Constanza said, embracing me. She’d always been kind and welcoming, but a few years ago I’d helped her nephew out with a bully situation, and she treated me like family ever since. “Can I get you something? Water? I’m making some tamales. They’ll be ready soon.”

  “Explains that intoxicating smell,” I said, taking a deep whiff and smiling. “You know, if Carlo ever cuts you loose, I’ll put a ring on your finger.”

  And if Carlo overheard me say that and thought I was serious, he’d put a bullet in my head. Constanza knew I was bluffing, though. She beamed me a bashful smile.

  “You are too kind to an old woman, Bones,” she replied, leading me toward Carlo’s office. “Whenever you’re ready to settle down, I do have a niece who’d be perfect for you, though. Beautiful girl. Smart, too. She’s in nursing school right now.”

  Just like Ma, Constanza was determined to make sure I settled down with a nice girl. She had more nieces than anyone I knew, and this was the third one she’d brought up in the past six months. My question was always the same. “But can she cook like you?”

  Constanza frowned. “Not yet, but maybe someday. But she’s got a face like an angel.”

  “It’ll never work, then.” Besides, I already had one smart and beautiful girl complicating my life. I had no desire to add another one.

  “Too bad,” Constanza said, opening Carlo’s office and motioning me in.

  “Bones. Good to see you. Please, come in.” Wearing the typical uniform—suit, tie, dress shoes—and standing in front of a bay window with a great view of his backyard, Carlo was the indisputable king of his castle. He crossed the room and shook my hand before gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Can Constanza bring you anything?”

  I declined, but she promised to wrap me up a few tamales to go before leaving Carlo and me to our business. As always, I passed him an envelope of cash, a percentage of everything I’d collected on over the past few days. He slid the envelope into the breast pocket inside his suit jacket and leaned against his mahogany desk.

  “What’s going on with Matt Deter?” he asked.

  Matt Deter, the current bane of my existence, was a low-life dealer who owed the family three thousand dollars for a shipment of dope he’d taken to the streets and never paid for. He also happened to be Ariana’s ex-boyfriend. Last time they were together, he pumped her pretty little veins full of enough dirty dope to kill her, then pulled a disappearing act. That was Halloween, the night I met her. She’d recovered physically, but she never talked about Matt or the experience. I had every intention of finding the asshole and making him pay for what he’d done to her with his life.

  “He’s been layin’ low, but I got eyes and ears watchin’. First squeak that rat makes, we’ll be all over him,” I reassured Carlo. “He’s arrogant. He’ll show his face sooner or later. Can’t help himself.”

  “Good, good. As soon as he pops his head out of whatever hole he’s hiding in, do him up good.” He paused and leaned against his desk. “But shake him down and find out who he’s getting his junk from first. We need to get that shit off the streets. It’s bringing too much heat down on the market.”

  Although I was just an enforcer, I understood the drug trade to be a tricky business. The product had to be cheap enough to keep buyers loyal, but also of high enough quality to keep them alive. The family policed the market to make sure balance was kept, but during the war with the Pelinos we’d lost control. Someone had flooded the streets with dirty dope, causing enough deaths to make the politicians pay attention. Carlo’s team had been hunting down the dealers and slowing distribution, but if we didn’t get it cut off at the source soon, even the greased cops would have to get their noses in Carlo’s business. Nobody wanted that.

  “Yes sir. I’ll make sure he squeals.”

  He nodded and crossed his arms. “In the meantime, I have another job for you. Renzo has a fence by the name of Jimmy Foster… you ever hear of him?”

  Renzo was Angel’s third cousin, but I was unfamiliar with the fence. “No sir.”

  “This guy Jimmy stiffed Renzo on a big deal. Probably thought the Pelinos were gonna come out on top of this war and wasn’t worried about offending one of ours. I’m sending you with Renzo to set this stronzo straight.”

  Regardless of how big a bastard Jimmy Foster was, sending me with Renzo was a strange move for Carlo to make. Renzo was a made man—formally inducted into the family—who had his own team, and they were more than capable of handling some suicidal fence. But I’d learned long ago not to question the orders of my capo. “Understood.”

  “I’ll have the new Tech send you the details
when Renzo’s ready to make his move.” Carlo pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, stuck one between his lips, and lit it. He took a drag and then said, “Now tell me about Angel. The kid’s really going straight?”

  Carlo knew everything about Angel the boss had tried to hide. He knew Angel was different. It wasn’t that Angel was soft—because he wasn’t—but he had a higher regard for life than what was acceptable for someone in our line of business. Even if Angel managed to physically survive leading the family, it’d tear him up inside.

  “Looks like it. He’s already got a job offer with some big-time tech company.”

  “So you know where he’s going yet?”

  “No. The job’s remote. He can live anywhere in the U.S.”

  Carlo shook his head, looking disgusted. “I always figured he’d come around. That one day his blood would kick in and he’d change. Always thought Angel would be your capo. You know that’s why I never brought you in, right? We were waiting. But with Angel out of the equation… well, we’re opening the books later this month, and it’s past time we brought you in.”

  Now? I’d waited years to be made, and now that Angel wanted me to leave with him they were finally ready to go through with it? Why? Information was Carlo’s currency. He had to know I was planning to leave with Angel. Careful to keep my expression neutral, I nodded. Saying or doing anything else would most likely get my throat cut.

  Carlo glanced at his watch before taking his seat. “I have to make a phone call. You know the way out.” He gestured toward the door.

  Suspecting that my lack of enthusiasm at his offer had upset him, I left. Constanza caught up to me on my way out the door, filling my hands with foil-wrapped fresh tamales. They smelled great, and I thanked her, even though I no longer had an appetite. The meeting with Carlo had made me realize how screwed I was. How screwed we all were. Angel’s father had taken out the Pelino family’s heir apparent, and if the Pelinos had any chance at saving face they’d need to whack Angel as retaliation. As a Mariani son, Angel would always have some level of family protection, but his father couldn’t throw any more men at protecting the son who wanted out of the business. Then there was me. If I refused Carlo’s offer, my protection would be completely stripped. We needed Markie’s doctor to hurry and clear her so we could get the hell out of Vegas. In the meantime, I had to stay alive and keep myself from getting made.