Free Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) by Amanda Washington

here?”
    “We’re looking for a suspect. A man, about five-eight, brown hair, medium build, goes by the name of Matthew Deter.”
    “Matt? You’re looking for Matt?”
    “Yes. Is he here?” Bones asked.
    Of course they were looking for Matt. The guy didn’t exactly scream upstanding citizen, as evidenced by the smoke affecting my brain. “No. He took off a while ago. He’s a suspect? To what?”
    “That’s confidential,” Bones replied.
    “How do you know Ma— the suspect?” Angel asked. “You said you were in town to see family. Are you a relative?”
    “He’s my sister’s boyfriend. Or at least he was. He was pretty pissed when he took off, so I’m not really sure about the status of their relationship right now.”
    I had no idea why I told them this, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
    Retching sounds came from the bedroom. I leaned back and hollered, “Ari? You okay?”
    What sounded like dry heaving answered. I waited for her to stop before turning back to the cops. They still hadn’t said anything about smelling pot on me, and I didn’t want to press my luck. Besides, my sister needed me. “Ariana’s sick. I need to get back to her. If you have a card… I promise I’ll call if he shows up.”
    The dry heaving started again.
    “What’s wrong with her?” Angel asked, surprising me.
    “I don’t know. I got here right before Matt bailed. She’s shaking, cold sweats, throwing up. She can’t even stand.”
    The two exchanged a look.
    “All right. Thanks for your help,” Bones said.
    Then the two of them turned and walked away. I closed the door and realized neither of them had given me their business card. I wasn’t about to press my luck and go chasing after them for one. Instead, I hurried in to check on Ariana.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Angel
     
    S HAKING, COLD SWEATS, throwing up. She can’t even stand.
    The words assaulted me during the walk back to the Hummer. I made it to the door, even got my hand on the handle, but couldn’t open it. I had a bad feeling about Markie’s sister, and I needed to know if I was right.
    “Angel, get in the car,” Bones said, opening the passenger’s door. It wasn’t a demand—Bones would never cross that line—more like a strong suggestion, softened when he added, “We’ll talk inside.”
    I nodded and climbed in. Bones checked something on his phone.
    “Matt’s one of your dealers, isn’t he?” I asked.
    Bones’s primary job was to ensure my security, but like all my father’s employees, he was also an earner. We never spoke about how he earned, but I knew what was up. I chose to feign ignorance, because being surrounded by my family’s secrets had taught me knowledge isn’t always power. Sometimes knowledge is responsibility; the kind of responsibility that keeps you up additional nights or adds years onto your prison sentence. Sometimes ignorance is true power.
    Bones’s jaw tensed. I’d never crossed this line before.
    “You really wanna know?” he asked.
    I looked back at the door, wondering what was happening inside the apartment. It wasn’t any of my business, and the smart thing would be to drive away. Only my brain couldn’t seem to settle on the smart decision.
    “Yeah.”
    Bones nodded. “Matt’s one of my dealers, but he’s slippin’. Been avoiding me, and didn’t make the last two drops. His ass is full of excuses and his veins are probably pumped full of my profits. Probably his girl’s too.”
    Shaking, cold sweats, throwing up. She can’t even stand.
    I was no expert, but that sounded like she was more than just plastered. “And her symptoms?”
    Bones shrugged. “Sounds like she got some bad shit.”
    I eyed him.
    He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. Everything I touch is pure.”
    My attention drifted back to the apartment door and stayed fixed there while I tried to force myself to put the key in the ignition. It wasn’t working. My memory kept flashing through images of a dead cop, schematics of