going. I was trying to find out more about Ariana, but somehow she’d turned it around on me. Anything I said would either make me sound like a stalker or clue her into our plans for her birthday. I took another drink, buying enough time to help me realize how to cover this up.
“Because my boss is dating your sister and your story didn’t make sense. Came to Vegas to start a singing career? Why?”
Ariana frowned. I got the feeling she was disappointed, but she shrugged it off and grinned. “I don’t know. Maybe because I figured I’d have a profession to fall back on here, in case the whole singing thing doesn’t work out.”
I arched my eyebrows in question.
“Hookers make great money.”
“Ari—”
“What, you wouldn’t pay to touch this bod?” She ran a hand down her side, drawing my attention to her curves.
Killing me. “Stop.”
“Okay, okay, I’m only kidding. Mostly. I don’t know why I chose Vegas. Maybe because my mom hated this city and some twisted little part of me expected her to jump out of the grave and stop me from coming here.”
She looked so frail and vulnerable for a moment, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and reassure her everything would be okay. But before I could move, she grinned again. “But for real, hookers do make great money.”
The next morning I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. I reached for my gun on the coffee table and sprang to my feet, instantly alert. No one was there. I crept to the door and peered out the peephole in time to see Ariana turn the corner wearing gym clothes, with her bag slung over her shoulder. She was going to work out, and she hadn’t woken me and asked me to join her. Wondering why, I pulled on a pair of sweats, grabbed my gym bag, and headed out the door. On the way to the elevator my phone buzzed with an incoming text from Tech. Renzo was on his way to pick me up and would meet me outside the building in ten minutes. I swore and headed back into the apartment to dress.
Since Angel and Markie were still asleep, I suited up quietly and took my gym bag with me. If the hit was quick, I would still have time to join Ariana before she was done with her workout. Once I was in the elevator, I messaged Angel to let him know Ariana was in the gym and I was going out on a job with Renzo.
Like most of the family, Renzo drove a black SUV with tinted windows and safety features you couldn’t find in any off-the-lot vehicle. It idled in front of the complex doors, kicking out exhaust into the crisp morning. He had one of his security guards—a guy by the name of Paul O’Brian—in the passenger’s seat, so I climbed in the back and buckled up. Renzo didn’t even look at me when I said hello, which was unusual. He was Angel’s cousin, and there was some sort of beef between the two of them, but Renzo had always been cool with me. Wondering what the hell was going on, I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the men in the front seat.
“What’s in the bag?” Paul asked.
I patted it. “Workout clothes. Gonna hit the gym when I get back.”
“Search it,” Renzo ordered.
In our line of work, you were either paranoid or dead. Trust was an expensive commodity and the richer and more powerful you were, the less you could afford it. I wouldn’t expect Renzo to trust me any more than he’d expect me to trust him. He outranked me, though, so I obligingly handed my bag to Paul, who rifled through it.
“Clean,” Paul said, tossing my bag back to me.
We drove the rest of the way in silence and parked behind a small restaurant not far from the strip. Renzo climbed out of the SUV, leaving his guard behind, and waited at the curb. Taking his silent stare as my cue to join him, I left my bag in the seat and we headed for the restaurant. Paul remained in the vehicle, also weird since the Marianis never went anywhere without their guards. I spared one more glance toward the SUV, but Paul was staring out the windshield and didn’t even