“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.
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 afriend. 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.
