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

them.
    “No, there,” Uncle Carlo pointed across the street to a blue and white single-wide manufactured home. A waist-high chain-link fence surrounded the property. Green plastic slats were threaded into the fence, but so many were broken or missing I could still see into the yard enough to make out a picnic table. Beyond the picnic table, steps led up to a door.
    “Who lives there?” I asked.
    “Doesn’t matter,” Uncle Carlo replied. He leaned his chair back and reached into the seat behind him. When he sat back up, he had a rifle in his hands.
    Bones leaned forward, studying the weapon. “That’s an m-twenty-ten, isn’t it?”
    Uncle Carlo nodded. “It’s overkill is what it is. But this beauty will definitely get the job done. It’s equipped with a Saker silencer. One of the best on the market.”
    He stroked the barrel of the rifle a few times before handing it to me. I looked from the weapon to the trailer and my heart pounded against my chest so loudly Uncle Carlo and Bones could probably hear it.
    “What do I do?” I asked. Stupid question. I shook my head and tried again. “I mean, I know how to shoot. But where is he?”
    “He’s in the house right now.” Uncle Carlo checked his watch. “But in about fifteen minutes, he’s going to come out for a cigarette. You’ll get one chance when he sits at that picnic table, lights his smoke, and calls his goomah .”
    “His mistress?” I asked, looking over at the single-wide again. “She must be getting all his money.”
    Uncle Carlo chuckled. “Oh, he’s a real piece of work, this guy. Trust me, Angel. You’re doing the world a favor. You’ll be a damn hero for bumping this one off.”
    The next few minutes were full of adrenaline and tough-talk, as my uncle prepared me to make my first kill. Then the trailer’s porch light flicked on. A door opened, and a figure stepped out onto the porch. He lit a cigarette, put it between his lips, and traipsed down the steps. He sat on top of the picnic table and pulled out his phone.
    “This is it,” Uncle Carlo whispered. He rolled down my window, leaned over, and helped me position the rifle against the window frame.
    “Take a breath,” Bones whispered.
    I breathed and looked through the scope. It took me a few seconds to adjust the view, but then I studied the man’s features. I’d never seen him before. He was a stranger. I took another breath.
    I’ll be doing the world a favor.
    My hands trembled so hard the barrel of the rifle hit the metal of the car. The man stood and looked around. Bones grabbed my shoulders, steadying me as Uncle Carlo coaxed my finger into squeezing the trigger. Once. The rifle kicked against my shoulder. Uncle Carlo gripped my hands and helped me squeeze off a second shot.
    Two in the head. Make sure he’s dead.
    Silencer, my ass. My ears rang, regardless. The man flew backward. Bones took the rifle from me, and Uncle Carlo started the car. Before I took another breath, we were on the way. We made it a full block and a half before I threw up in my lap. Uncle Carlo didn’t even blink. He just kept driving. Before long, we pulled up in front of his house. He got me out of the car, and then hosed me off. Then, the three of us got wasted.
    The next day, Father took me down to his club and bragged that I’d popped my cherry. But every time the old man looked at me, I knew he saw my failure. He saw Bones holding my arms while my uncle squeezed the trigger. Hell, he could probably smell the vomit on me. I couldn’t get the stench to wash off me.
    “Angel? You okay?” Bones asked, pulling me back into the present. He nudged me forward.
    The elevator doors were open, but I stood there, staring out into the casino like an idiot.
    “Couldn’t be better,” I replied.
    Now, I’m no longer killing strangers. I’m hurting friends. That’s great, right? Maybe now the old man will be proud.
    Bones eyed me, but he left me to my dark thoughts. They called to me like the