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.
