The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (18 page)

“Then lucky you.” Carlo laughed and squeezed Tino’s cheeks. “You think you’re better than us, tough guy? You walked out of that basement, and now you’re a badass?”

“Yeah.” Tino jerked his head away from Carlo’s grasp. In other families, they might ignore the giant elephant in the room. That Tino’s father tried to kill him. In this family, it had turned into a weird badge of honor that was highly fucked-up, but he owned it anyway. “I
am
badass. So step back, motherfucker.”

“You did break Napoli’s nose.” Carlo laughed at that. “I respect the hell outta that, and I’m pissed off I missed it. Just like I’m pissed off I didn’t get to see Nova kick the shit outta Frankie. That made my life.”

“Your voice when you smoke,” Nova hissed at him. “It gets
really loud
.”

“Whaddayou mean?” Carlo shouted so loud Tino flinched, considering Carlo was still in his face. “Your father can suck my—” Carlo was cut off when Nova grabbed his shirt and yanked him off the bed, but then he caught Nova’s ankle, bringing him down hard. Nova scrambled to throw a hand over Carlo’s mouth, but it was too late. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “
Sucami a minchia, Frankie!
”

“
Coglione.
” Nova was laughing, as if the pot chose that moment to hit him.

Carlo grabbed Nova’s face playfully. “You wanna know what happens to wiseguys who try to get the drop on me?”

“No, show me.” Nova was still laughing his ass off and didn’t fight Carlo’s hold on him. “Go for it, puttana. I dare you.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to dare a
Siciliano
to do something unless you can handle the consequences?” Carlo warned, but the playfulness in his voice changed; it got dark and dangerous enough to give Tino chills as Carlo lifted his head and looked toward the door when he said, “You think I won’t take out family. Think again.”

Tino followed his gaze, seeing Frankie standing in the doorway glaring at them. He hated that his stomach jerked in fear. Even stoned, the terror rushed through him, making all the fine hairs on his arms stand on end.

What he hated more was that he was embarrassingly grateful that Carlo was there. So grateful he wanted to fall to his knees and thank him for being stronger and scarier than his brother. So far, Carlo was the only advantage to being on Team Bastardi in the Moretti Borgata.

Nova was obsessed with this notion that as long as he kept the old man happy, they were safe from Frankie. They would all be protected, and he was working very hard at licking that motherfucker’s boots to earn the privilege of making sure he didn’t ever have to watch Tino almost beaten to death again or know Romeo wasn’t getting sold off to God knew what in prison.

Tino was obsessed with the notion of Carlo, a bastard from Washington Heights, scaring the living fuck out of not just Frankie, but all of these spoiled, suburban gangsters.

“You’re coming back tomorrow.” Frankie arched an eyebrow at Nova, who had sobered when their father showed up. “Social worker’s been asking questions.”

Tino rolled over in bed rather than blurt out that he knew his father was fucking the social worker. He showed them all his back, stitched up in the basement of this mansion that doubled as a makeshift hospital for injured wiseguys. On-call doctors pumped him with bags and bags of O-positive blood and kept him alive whether he wanted them to or not.

It was so state-of-the-art Tino thought he was in a real hospital for two days. Then he figured out he was nearly killed in one Moretti basement and brought back to life in another.

The same way Nova was broken in one and rebuilt into this mafia dog in the other, at the arm of the godfather, whose voice filtered in and out of Tino’s drug-induced dreams the whole time.

“That’s fine,” Nova said rather than argue.

“It better be fine. You think you’re gonna hide up the don’s ass in this place. I don’t think so, chief. You got shit to do at home. The school keeps calling me. They said you need to take placement tests or something. Get it done. Keep the social worker happy. You only gotta toe the line until you’re sixteen.”

“What happens when he’s sixteen?” Carlo asked.

“I can drop out,” Nova whispered, and Tino could hear the pain in his voice.

He turned around, looking at his brother, who was sitting up now. Nova’s arms were folded over his knees as he stared at the wall sightlessly. It was like watching every dream Nova had for himself die right there in front of all of them.

Nova was supposed to do something amazing with the mind God gave him. None of them had been sure of what it was, but it seemed like the possibilities were endless. Back before Ma got sick, when Frankie didn’t give two shits about them, they talked a lot about Nova changing the world. It was such a real and tangible thing, Tino had been excited just hearing about it.

Except cancer was a terrible disease, one that drained not just the soul out of a family, but the bank accounts too.

At eleven, Nova did what he could to help get the money they needed to stay afloat after their ma got diagnosed.

Gambling was so easy for him.

He was able to get the cash, but he exposed himself after years of keeping his gifts hidden. Now their ma was dead. Their brother was in jail, and Nova’s dreams were shattered at his feet.

“Frankie—” Carlo started.

“It’s fine,” Nova said before he could finish. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I want Tino to stay in school, though.” He turned back to Frankie. “If that’s okay?”

“Whatever,” Frankie said dismissively. “I’ll tell ’em you’re coming out Friday to register both of yous.”

“At the same school?” Nova frowned, because he was in high school.

“You’re going to school with Carina.” Frankie turned and left without more of an explanation.

The three of them sat in silence after he left. Then Nova turned to Carlo and asked, “Where does Carina go to school?”

“St. Francis Catholic.” Carlo winced as he said it. “Most Cosa Nostra brats go there and not just our Borgata. They don’t ask questions.”

Nova lifted his gaze to Tino, and the two of them tried to process that. They’d gone to church on and off over the years, but their mother hadn’t been the most devout Catholic in Harlem. Now they were supposed to go to a Catholic school?
A mafia Catholic school.

“So if I take Tino in to register him, and he’s still recovering—”

“It’s not gonna fucking matter,” Carlo assured them. “You could go in and tell them Frankie did it. They’re not telling a fucking soul.”

“And the tests, do I have to flake on them?” Nova asked him curiously. “I usually flake on tests like that. I score high, but not too high. So I get into advanced classes, but—”

“Just fucking take ’em. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure they already know about your memory thing.”

It was so strange to hear after a lifetime of trying to protect the secret of Nova’s memory. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to it any more than Tino did.

“This is Neverland. The rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore. The sooner you forget it, the easier it’ll be,” Carlo said softly. “Learn to fight your own battles. We have to be better than them. Stronger. Faster. Smarter. Lost Boys have to fly.”

Nova laughed at the reference and asked, “So what? Are you Peter Pan?”

“No.” Carlo shook his head and gave Nova a smile that made him look too handsome to be human. “Not for a long time. Me. I’m a pirate. Just a fucking pirate like the rest of ’em.” He leaned over and poked at Nova’s bare chest. “You’re Peter Pan now. Maybe you’ll do a better job with it.”

Nova quirked an eyebrow. “What’re the job requirements?”

“Stay young forever. Stay hopeful.” Carlo stretched back out on the floor and stared at the ceiling as if pondering it. “To laugh when you’re happy and cry when you’re sad. You have to keep your soul. Somehow you have to hold on to it. That’s the requirement.”

“I’m probably fucked,” Nova observed drily.

“Yup,” Carlo agreed. “You probably are.”

Chapter Fifteen

“We have a successful chess club here at St. Francis.”

“I’m aware.” Nova’s voice was clipped, as if the administrator was rubbing salt into an already painful wound. “But I don’t play chess anymore.”

“You were a state champion. It seems a shame—”

“I’m not interested. Sorry.”

“Well, the math team—”

“Not interested.”

“If you plan to apply for college, you’ll need extracurricular activities, and from your records, it looks like that was something you were working toward.”

Tino winced, deciding he couldn’t help Nova with his geek problems. He went back to reading a new
Dragon Ball
manga, a signed collector’s edition. Nova went into Manhattan to buy it while Tino was still in the Moretti basement/hospital recovering, and Tino knew it probably cost more money than they could spare with Romeo’s mounting legal bills.

It was one of those rare indulgences, especially considering any manga in English were rare. Tino was trying to read without creasing the spine, which resulted in him sliding down in the chair and lifting it up, peering between the pages he was carefully holding a few inches apart to see the words. It wasn’t the easiest way to read, but he was so fucking excited to have it he was willing to endure.

This interview with Nova was taking for-fucking-ever!

Thank God he’d told Tino to take the book.

Tino just read, ignoring the other students in the office, and stopped paying attention to Nova’s discussion in the other room. For all the lines and lines of ADHD shit in that file they were probably looking over right now, Tino could block out the world if he was interested in something.

Nova called it hyperfocus.

His mother used to call it optional hearing.

Romeo would usually just hit the back of his head until he looked up.

“Hey,
fanook
.”

Tino turned the page, careful of the spine, and squinted through one eye to see better.

When his crutches fell over, Tino glanced at the two guys who sat down next to him. They were both blond, preppy, with designer clothes and braces. Thank God Tino’s teeth were coming in straight. It was a sure bet if they weren’t, Frankie wasn’t going to fucking pay for it. He ran his tongue over his teeth when he thought about it, feeling the two gaps on the sides where he’d lost teeth right before Romeo got arrested.
Please, dear God, let those fuckers come in straight like Nova’s.

“We’re talking to you,
succhiacazzi
.”

Tino quirked an eyebrow and then looked the other direction, to see if they were really talking to him.

“Are you stupid, guinea?”

Since Tino was the only Siciliano in hearing distance who was going to take personal offense to that, he closed his book and turned back to them. “For real? We’re doing this?”

The bigger one got in real close, too close, like he had missed the personal-bubble speech in kindergarten. Then he whispered in Tino’s ear. “I know who you are, piccolo succhiacazzi.”

“Who am I?” Tino didn’t flinch away from him. He just stayed in his face and made his voice sort of low and sultry in the same way this guy did. “Oh, please tell me. Who do you think I am?”

“I think you’re the puttana who’s gonna be licking my boots for the next four years. Do you want me to translate that for you?” He glanced down at Tino’s feet. “Nice cast. It suits you, princess.”

Tino laughed in his face.

Neither of them seemed to know how to reply to Tino’s level of amusement. Both boys were completely speechless. As if they actually expected Tino to go along with their bullshit.

“
Preferirei mangiare merda piuttosto che leccare i tuoi stivali
,” Tino said slowly and then raised his eyebrows when he saw neither of them fully understood him. “Do you want me to translate it for you,
cretino
?”

“Valentino.”

Tino looked at his brother, who was leaning against the other side of the desk. “Yeah?”

“They need you to take the placement tests.” Nova narrowed his eyes as he studied the larger blond, who was still all up in Tino’s personal space. “Making friends?”

“Yup.” Tino leaned down to grab his crutches, taking care not to bend his book, and then said in Italian, “For a school that’s supposed to be ninety percent Italian, the teacher must fucking suck. This bitch just called me a cocksucker. Badly. If he’s gonna toss it around, he should say it right.” He turned around and glared at the guy, studying him for a second, and then said to his brother, “I think he wants a date.”

“Come on.” Nova huffed. “Just leave ’em alone.”

“I’m serious. I think he wants a date,” he went on Italian. “He was all up in my grill. Did you see that? He called me a cocksucker twice.” Tino leaned into Nova over the counter and tried to imitate the husky pitch the blond used as he said, “His voice got all low when he said it.
Like this.
I think it was wishful thinking.”

Nova laughed at him and then glanced over at the two guys sitting in the chairs, who stiffened with insult.

“What are you laughing at? Fucking geek.”

Nova’s face fell slack for one second, and he looked behind him, as if searching for another student like Tino had. Then he turned back and asked them, “Are you talking to me?”

“Is there another chess club champion standing here?” The blond folded his thick, muscled arms over his chest, as if they were still new and he was enjoying the novelty of them. “You got a problem with it?”

“Did you—” Nova started, frowning at him. “You know what, no. We’re not doing this. I can’t be fucked with you. Valentino, come on.” He took the book out of Tino’s hand and opened the door to the back for him. Then he whispered to him in Italian, “I looked at your test.”

Thank God.

Tino was stressing about that test. He didn’t smoke before he came in, but he had an issue with timed tests on good days. Not that he was stupid, but focusing was a problem sometimes. Mix in being itchy, achy, generally uncomfortable, and more than a little twitchy about his life.

He’d fucking fail that thing with flying colors.

They’d worked out a code before they got here. So Tino spent most of the time tapping his pencil against the counter, giving Nova the number to the problem he was struggling with. Nova would click the ballpoint pen in his hand in response, and Tino would have to ignore the crazy noise in the office to hear how many clicks it was and then color in the right bubble.