The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (12 page)

“Your brother Romeo had an issue,” the social worker said as she walked up to Tino and tilted her head to study him. “Are you hurt?”

“What sort of issue?” Nova asked. “Where is he?”

“Let’s focus on this brother,” the social worker said in a soothing voice. “We’re here to help you now.”

“Where is he? Where’s Romeo?” Nova asked again, the sharp edge of panic in his voice. “We’ll go with you without arguing, but you have to tell us where he is.”

She gave Nova a wince. “He got arrested.”

“Arrested?” Tino repeated, seeing white spots form in his vision from the
whoosh, whoosh, whoosh
of his heartbeat thundering. “There’s no way. Romeo would never—” Everyone in their neighborhood called Romeo Mr. Perfect, because he was the one who never broke a rule. “No. That’s not—” Tino was pissed off at Nova, but he turned to him desperately. “Tell them.”

“What was he arrested for?” Nova asked them.

“He was arrested for attempted murder. He attacked a police officer. The officer’s in critical condition.” The social worker whispered it like it was taboo she was even telling them. “Your brother’s probably not coming home for a long time, but we’re going to help you. We’re going to put you in a better place. A safer place. I promise.”

The fear and pain were so all-encompassing they were making Tino dizzy, but it was Nova who sat right there on the street, his head between his knees like he might puke.

Which Nova did, three minutes later, all over the social worker’s shoes, while the cops radioed for an ambulance for Tino, ’cause apparently there was absolutely nothing okay about having two ankles.

It was that night Tino learned the first really important rule of survival in Cosa Nostra, and it never stopped being applicable.

If Nova Moretti’s puking his guts up…everyone’s fucked.

Chapter Nine

Tino wasn’t really sure how many hours he was in the hospital.

He was highly fucked-up the whole time. They pumped something in his IV that made the world in general seem like a better place.

By the time he got out, enjoying the novelty of crutches and a black cast, the sun was shining bright. The social worker, who Tino learned was supposed to be called Miss Laura, picked up his prescription after the two of them left the hospital in her white, government-issued car.

Tino studied the bottle when she handed it to him. “This is a lotta pills.”

She offered him a grin. “I made sure you got the right doctor in the emergency room. He’s a friend of your father’s like I am.”

“My father’s a popular guy,” Tino observed with a roll of his eyes. “Never showed up to give a shit until my ma was dying, but glad all of yous think he’s so awesome. You know he never gave my ma a dollar. Just saying.”

“He cares about you. He sent me to make sure you were treated right,” she said softy.

Tino shook the bottle. “I guess.”

“And you know that’s where I’m taking you? To his house.”

Tino paused at that. He was still half-stoned, but he knew that was a bad idea. “What’d you mean? His house? Like with his wife?”

“Yes, he was granted custody.”

“That fast?” Tino shouted. “Romeo’s been in jail a few hours and—”

“And look at how we found you?” she cut him off. “Your leg’s broken and—”

Tino made a choking sound of horror at the implication.

“No, it’s not your fault.” She pulled the car into a gas station and turned off the ignition. She looked at him seriously and reached over to put a hand on his thigh. “This was something out of your hands. I know you don’t understand, but you need to be with your father.”

Tino scowled at her and then glanced at her hand on his thigh. He didn’t trust anyone singing his father’s praises. Everyone in New York knew Frankie Moretti was trouble. “You’re about to enter bad-touch territory, lady.”

She jerked her hand back, looking shocked for one long moment; then she laughed. “Cute, Tino.”

“Mmm.” He hummed as he sat back and continued to look straight ahead before he asked for the hundredth time since last night, “Where’s Nova?”

“He was taken to your father’s last night.”

The haze of morphine was fading a little too fast, and panic was quickly catching up. He was starting to realize the doctors might have given him those drugs in the hospital on purpose to calm him down when he freaked over being separated from Nova. Sometimes his mouth was ahead of his brain, and he might have told everyone exactly what he thought if they hadn’t chemically chilled him out. He didn’t want to go to his father’s, but he really wanted to see Nova.

“And that’s where you’re taking me?
Right now?
”

“Yes, it is.” She didn’t seem quite so friendly now. “I’m your friend, Tino. I’m your advocate too.”

“Bullshit.” He snorted. “You’re doing this for the bank. Did you help set Romeo up to get arrested too?”

She was silent for a long time before she whispered, “I suggest you learn to be friends, because you’re stuck with me. I can make your life very easy, or very difficult.”

“My father is a mafia drug lord, and he’s been trying to break my family up since my ma died. If you’re taking me to his house, you’re already making my life
very
difficult.” Tino knew it with certainty. “So suck it, Miss Laura.”

“I guess the morphine wore off,” she snapped.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Tino sat there, his arms crossed defensively the entire ride to Brooklyn. He’d never been to his father’s house. Never once thought he’d be invited, because being one of his father’s dirty secrets meant the only time Tino saw him was during awkward visits where they stayed firmly in Harlem. Everyone there knew not to narc on Frankie Moretti for taking his bastard sons for ice cream.

Since Tino’s ma died, they hadn’t seen him at all.

They lived with their brother Romeo instead—his ma’s other son from her first bad affair. Which worked for everyone, or so they all thought.

There was one very tiny catch in all their lives.

Nova’s brain.

Frankie felt like since he’d contributed to making it, he ought to have it at his disposal, and Romeo wasn’t playing. He’d been defying Frankie at every turn, and Tino thought it was working. They were so close to getting out of the hood. Nova took the money Romeo made stripping, and he’d been investing it.

Yeah, his brother was a male stripper.

If chicks wanted to pay to see Romeo dance, Tino didn’t see the big fucking deal. He even told his math teacher when she asked why Romeo was working nights. She’d been so shocked. So horrified.

It was less than a week before Tino heard Romeo tell their cousin Angelo that he saw her at the club. Romeo was shaken up about it. Tino almost told him that she went there
knowing
he was dancing.

Except Romeo would’ve kicked his ass for saying something to begin with.

They’d been living on eggshells for the past year, and what did it get them?

A one-way ticket to Brooklyn.

And what the hell was gonna happen to Romeo?

His brother was in jail for attempted murder. That was major. It was the first time Tino let himself really think about it, that Romeo was sitting in a cell somewhere right now.

Fuck.

They were so close to getting away, but now what?

* * * *

Tino had never been to Dyker Heights.

He’d been taught to stay as far away from Brooklyn as possible. Which had mostly been fine; Tino was a Manhattan guy all the way, and no one in his family had any use for Brooklyn. First it was his mother looking over her shoulder, paranoid as hell she’d run into the wife.

Or someone who knew the wife.

Or someone who knew Frankie, who didn’t want her anywhere near Brooklyn.

Because of the wife.

After Ma died, Romeo avoided Brooklyn like the fucking plague.

He didn’t want to run into Frankie.

Or the wife.

Tino was a thousand times more nervous about meeting this bitch than he was about seeing his father again. He knew his father. He hated him, but he knew what to expect from Frankie.

He’d been raised to fear the wife since he first sucked in air.

Tino didn’t know what the wife had to be so pissed off about. So her husband boned another woman. Big deal. Tino’s ma was dead, and the wife was still living it up in Dyker Heights.

And it was
posh
.

These people had so much fucking space. Big brick houses, with tall black fences. Manicured green lawns. There was more grass than Central Park. To Tino, who grew up in a small, rent-regulated apartment, it just looked so open and wasteful.

They drove past a golf course.

A friggin’ golf course.

In New York City.

No wonder the Italians had abandoned East Harlem and Little Italy had been reduced to a few good restaurants and a guided tour of mafia murders.

Twenty-first-century mobsters had Dyker Heights.

They could blend in with all the doctors and lawyers, ’cause why the hell not?

Harlem. Hell’s Kitchen. Little Italy.

Bullshit.

Maybe fifty years ago.

Now slumming like that was for the
goomahs
and the bastards they gave birth to. Real gangsters raised their families in the suburbs.

“This one has an attitude,” Miss Laura said as she opened the car door. “Big-time.”

“You think this one has attitude.” Frankie Moretti walked past the big wrought-iron gate that opened electronically in the driveway. “Try dealing with the other one. They got
stugots
like their father.”

Tino turned and glared at him for that.

“What?” Frankie laughed, looking completely unfazed by Tino’s fury over his life being ripped apart. “You wanna take a shot at your old man?”

Tino made a gagging sound.

Like he was father of the fucking year or something.

“Smart-ass.” Frankie leaned past Miss Laura to smack Tino’s head. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s my leg.” Tino refrained from mentioning it was super sweet of Frankie to send his government lackey to make sure Tino was loaded in the hospital instead of coming down himself. “It’s broken. That’s how it is.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” Frankie asked Miss Laura. “Mary’s not gonna take him. It could fucking fall off for all she cares.”

“Take him to Dr. Acciai in Bensonhurst. He’ll get it taken care of for you. I’ll have them send everything over to him.”

“When?”

“He should go in a few days.”

“
Minchia.
” Frankie groaned in frustration and eyed Tino. “I work for a living. Do you know how to take the bus?”

Tino gave his father a look of disbelief. “Yeah. I can wipe my own ass too.”

“See. He’ll just take himself.”

“You’re gonna let a twelve-year-old take the bus by himself with a broken leg? Have you looked at him? He’s too pretty. Someone will grab him for sure,” Miss Laura said in disbelief. “Come on, Frankie, no. I’m gonna lose my job.”

“He’s fine. He can take care of himself.” Frankie waved off the concern. When she huffed in annoyance, he sighed. “I’ll have his brother take him. Grab your shit, Tino.”

Tino suspected his father was nailing Miss Laura. Frankie stayed there, hovering with his hand on the driver’s-side door as Tino fought with getting out of the car.

Tino hopped on his good foot while he pulled the crutches out of the back. Then he stood there, staring at the house that was more like a fucking castle for mafia royalty. All fenced in and hidden, but the top of it rose out of the trees like a gray-bricked monster.

“I can’t meet you later. The wife’s not exactly pleased with me right now,” Frankie whispered under his breath. “She’s been on one since last night.”

Tino rolled his eyes. He should probably warn Nova about Miss Bad Touch. If Frankie was her flavor, she’d have her hands all over Nova with her comfort and concern.

Nova looked so much like their father it always gave Tino whiplash.

Tino studied Frankie again, noticing he hadn’t walked away from the social worker, despite the wife. Nova might look like him, but Nova’s brain hadn’t come from Frankie, because this asshole
was not
smart. He was not slick. He might have a big pair of stugots, but that was about it.

“Where are the boys staying if she’s so pissed off they’re here?” Miss Laura asked.

“They have their own place over the garage. A bachelor pad. That sounds good, doesn’t it, pal?”

Tino wouldn’t even acknowledge that.
Pal?
He was gonna pull a Nova and puke on someone’s shoes. Instead he just worked on lifting his feet and staying balanced on the crutches for as long as possible.

Unfortunately, he had both his feet up when he saw the face hovering above the high gate, hidden by long hair that was inky black and shiny in the rays of sunlight filtering in through the trees and vines.

The fence had to be fifteen feet high. He had no idea what that girl was standing on or how she’d crawled up on the other side to be hanging there, but that wasn’t what had him busting his ass on the driveway.

Even from a distance, he got that same weird whiplash feeling of seeing his brother’s face on another person.

“What the fuck?” Frankie sighed as Tino rolled over, now sprawled out and hurting on the cement. “I think their mother smoked too much with this one.”

“It’s very possible. He’s got a raging case of ADHD. It’s all over his file.”

“And I got another one in the house who’s worse. Head’s always in the clouds,” Frankie said sadly. “These friggin’ broads. You’d think they’d eat their spinach when they’re pregnant to save themselves the headache. Mary’s always nagging on Carina about it. Gets herself worked up for nothing. She’s a girl. What the hell does she need to pay attention for? The only career she’s gotta worry about is fucking her husband. But you, pal.” His father sighed. “You better get your shit together.”

Tino tilted his head, looking back to the fence, but the girl had disappeared. All he could do was lie there and wonder why someone hadn’t bothered to mention he had a sister.

Chapter Ten

Truth.

Tino was still pissed off with Nova.