The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (24 page)

“What song are you dancing to?”

Brianna turned to look at Tino and then said, “Can I keep it a secret?”

“He doesn’t have cable,” Carina explained.

Jasmine frowned at the three of them, but then smiled again, as if that wasn’t the strangest thing she’d heard. “Okay. Sure.”

* * * *

Brianna wasn’t the only one trying out.

So everyone sat in a big semicircle in the studio, leaving the back and the mirrors open. This crew was interesting. It was a mix of all types of people, different ages, different nationalities.

And Tino was going to have to correct himself on Brooklyn.

The girls here
could
move.

The guys could too.

Brianna was in a corner stretching. Tino and Carina sat with Otis between them so he could give them a play-by-play on who was dancing. Some of the crew members danced in groups, practicing their routines and bringing up the energy in the room before the tryouts. Some did solo routines.

Tino was a decent dancer, but he wasn’t anywhere close to the category of these dancers. Then Otis got up to do a routine his team had been working on, and Tino sort of understood why Otis thought Tino should audition when his foot healed.

Tino wasn’t the greatest dancer in the world.

Neither was Otis, though he had certainly improved.

But what they had and a lot of the other dancers didn’t were the gymnastic skills. In a group dance, nothing topped off a routine like the perfect back tuck Otis just did.

It was probably the reason this crew recruited Brianna.

Tino wasn’t sure about her dancing, but he’d seen firsthand that, like Otis, she was very physical and limber and had a whole collection of tricks in her gymnast bag that could be impressive in a routine and make a crew look really good for a competition.

But damn, these dancers were good.

Very good.

Tino was sorta hoping Brianna could do a back tuck like Otis, because if she couldn’t, her dancing was gonna have to be
on point
.

Well, if she flaked on it, she could always try out for cheerleading with Carina.

They called Brianna first, and Otis explained they always went from youngest to oldest, to help the younger dancers with their nerves rather than making them wait longer.

Except Brianna didn’t walk up like the youngest dancer.

She didn’t look nervous.

She wasn’t blushing like she did on the train.

She just pulled down the brim of Tino’s Yankees hat and lowered her head as she stood there in the center of all these kick-ass dancers. Then someone pushed Play, and the low, distinctive thump of “Let Me Blow Ya Mind” came on.

And it was the perfect song.

Brianna blew his mind.

She didn’t use one gymnastic trick.

She didn’t need them, because…

“Damn,” Otis whispered next to him. “Your girl can move.”

Her moves were fluid, and so smooth she was actually blending them seamlessly to the music. Brianna was beyond a doubt born to dance. It was sort of like listening to Carina sing for the first time that night in the shower. She had a talent, an undeniable, innate talent that others like Tino could do a lot of dumb pet tricks trying to mimic, but they couldn’t really touch.

For the first time since last night, the constant replay of Mary stopped in his mind. The only thing he could see was Brianna, dancing in front of all these talented people like she knew she was better.

Tino grew up in a family that was extremely competitive. He was raised to appreciate hard work, to admire the sheer athleticism of her movements, but what was unique to Tino was how much he enjoyed the beauty of it. The way he felt like she was dancing for him, because he saw the way she glanced over, as if searching for his approval… Or maybe it was in his imagination.

Maybe he just needed to know he fucking mattered to someone.

When she was done, Tino was the first one to shout in appreciation.

Others threw their shoes and hats, and Tino followed suit. Tino’s sneaker might have been lost in the sea of hats and shoes as Brianna stood there, the blush back now that the job was done, but she picked up Tino’s shoe like it was the only one she noticed.

Then she came over, crawling on her hands and knees between the people in front of them as they all patted her back. Her cheeks were still flushed, her forehead glinted with sweat, but her smile was wide and bright, making her green eyes sparkle under the studio lights.

She handed him his shoe and asked, “Better than cable?”

“Much better.” He nodded and found that he was fighting tears. “Thank you.”

“You got this,” Otis assured her.

“It was awesome,” Carina agreed as Brianna sat down between Carina and Otis. “Tino didn’t blink the whole friggin’ time.”

Brianna looked past Otis and gave Tino another pleased smile. “Maybe you’ll try out when you get your cast off. Then it’ll be my turn not to blink.”

“Maybe I will,” Tino agreed, even if he knew his life probably wasn’t going to give him time for a dance team. “I’ll find a way,” he said more to himself than her.

He had to find a way, because so far, seeing Brianna dance was the only thing he found that made him feel like there was a reason to keep breathing.

Chapter Nineteen

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?” Tino snapped as he sat next to Nova in the Camaro, making the long drive into Manhattan to see Romeo.

“You can’t try out for a dance team.” Nova spit out the words like they were toxic. “It’s just not something our people do.”

“Our people?” Tino repeated. “We dance. You dance. Romeo was a friggin’ stripper.”

“I’m talking about Cosa Nostra. We’re not in Harlem anymore. We dance to amuse ourselves. We dance to get women. We don’t get up on a stage and hop around to entertain.”

“Frank Sinatra entertained. The old man has pictures of him all over the palace in Bensonhurst.”

“Frank Sinatra worked for us,” Nova said simply. “He entertained us. Not the other way around. The old man is never gonna agree to you going up onstage with his last name and performing for people. Why do you think they won’t let Carina take lessons? Morettis don’t perform. Wiseguys
definitely
don’t perform.”

“I’m not a wiseguy,” Tino reminded him. “I’m trying out for dance team. If Carina gets to try out to be a cheerleader, I get to try out for dance team.”

“Dollars for doughnuts the old man doesn’t know Mary is making Carina try out for cheerleading,” Nova said with a growl. “I think that cunt does merda like that to piss the Morettis off. She could give two shits about Carina, but all of a sudden she wants her to go cheer for all those
teste di cazzo
playing football like Dominic from the Brambino family. I call bullshit. She’s fucking with us.”

Tino really wished Nova hadn’t brought up Mary.

Especially since she had shown up last night after Nova left, and ruined Tino’s high over Brianna’s dance. He’d run into the bathroom and taken one of those pills when he heard her on the stairs, half hoping he’d end up puking on her, but he had a cereal bar earlier so all it really did was haze things for him. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

After she left, he counted them out and hoped to God fifty-seven was enough for Mary to get sick of him.

Tino turned and looked out the window. “Us?” he asked distantly. “So we’re Team Moretti now? That’s our us? They’re our people?”

“Yes, they’re our people.” Nova sighed. “Like it or not, they’re our people. They’re our Borgata. That’s our team, and we make sure our team wins. I’m telling the old man about the cheerleading.”

“You do that,” Tino whispered as he kept staring out the window.

Tino stayed silent after that.

He let Nova listen to what he wanted on the radio, but he could only hear so much 2Pac, Jay Z, and N.W.A. before he got irritated. He was already angry.

“I hate this shit.” Tino groaned after a half an hour. “Can I listen to something else?”

Nova gave him a look, as if the dance-team conversation made him question if Tino deserved control of the radio. “If you’d listen to the lyrics.”

“I don’t wanna listen to the lyrics.”

“Some of it is really poetic. Their statement is powerful.”

“I don’t care.” Tino raised his eyebrows at his brother. “I get it. Fuck the police. Fuck everyone. Can I listen to something else?”

“Fine, whatever,” Nova said dismissively. “We’re almost there anyway.”

So Tino got to mess with the radio. He stopped on a Mary J. Blige song, because he knew Nova liked her and they probably needed to find a middle ground.

Then, just as they were pulling into the gas station to meet the lawyer, “Let Me Blow Ya Mind” came on, and Tino sat up and looked at the radio. “I like this song. A lot. You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s all right,” Nova agreed.

Nova sat there next to him after they parked, letting him listen to the song. Tino rested his head back against the seat, closed his eyes, and remembered Brianna so he could forget Mary.

“Are you gonna tell Romeo about the basement?” Nova asked again.

Tino kept his eyes closed, still imagining Brianna’s dance as he sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You can if you want.” Nova choked on the words, but he said them. “I’m not gonna tell you not to.”

Tino nodded, knowing how hard it was for Nova to give him that. He wasn’t sure which of them had it worse, Nova who carried so much guilt, or Tino who was fighting down so much anger.

“Ti voglio bene,” he whispered, more to remind himself than Nova.

Nova reached over and squeezed his shoulder, like he wanted to make sure Tino was still there. “I love you too.”

Then the song was over, and the lawyer showed up. So they got in his Mercedes and drove to the jail.

“Leave your hat,” Nova said from the front seat where he sat discussing things with the guy in the suit who obviously worked for the don and was part of the bonus Nova got for being a Cosa Nostra trained dog. “You can’t bring it in.”

Tino didn’t want to leave his hat. It sort of felt like his good-luck charm. He took it off and sniffed at the brim, because it still had the scent of Brianna’s shampoo. Or maybe he was just imagining it, but either way it made him feel better.

“Did you just sniff your hat?” Nova asked in Italian.

Tino looked at the hat in his hand, and then he smelled it again. “Why can’t I bring it?”

“’Cause you can’t. They pat you down and use a metal detector. You can’t bring anything you could hide something in,” he went on in Italian and then added in English, “It’s a friggin’ jail.”

Tino put his hat over his face and dropped his head back against the seat. He took another deep breath, trying to pretend he was back at the studio in Bed-Stuy.

“You don’t have to come in,” Nova whispered in Italian once more. “You can wait in the car, piccolo.”

“I’m not a baby,” Tino decided for the first time in his life. His mother used to call him the baby, and it was a habit Romeo and Nova picked up. They got better about it as he got older, but sometimes they reverted back to when Tino was five and his name in the house had just been
piccolo
. “Don’t call me that anymore.”

It reminded him of his ma.

He didn’t want to think about his ma.

Nova fell back against his seat and looked out his window the same way Tino had in the other car. He was quiet for a long time as the lawyer sat next to them, uncomfortable because he hadn’t been able to understand the conversation.

At least Tino assumed he couldn’t understand him.

With a name like Abram Levi, Tino was pretty fucking certain he wasn’t Italian even if he did work for Don Moretti.

“Are we good?” Abram asked Nova.

“Yeah, we’re good.” Nova opened the door without looking at Tino and handed his folders to the lawyer. “Are you coming, Valentino?”

Nova choked on his name a little, even though he said it all the time. It was like he could feel the death of who Tino was before.

Tino tossed his hat on the seat and opened the back door. “I’m ready.”

So, he sat through this long drive, and Nova’s life crisis at fourteen, only to find out he wasn’t allowed to hug Romeo.

Of course he wasn’t.

He just got to sit between Nova and the Jewish lawyer and stare at his older brother across the table. Tino could see a bruise on Romeo’s thick biceps, most of it hiding underneath the sleeve from his orange uniform, but all other signs of the attack Tino watched were hidden.

Romeo didn’t even flinch when he sat down.

He looked to all the world like the biggest, most muscular guy in that jail.

But Tino knew him better. Romeo had circles under his eyes like he wasn’t sleeping, and his hair was getting a little long, leaving it messy in a way Tino had never seen on his brother.

“You look thinner, piccolo.” Romeo reached out, like he wanted to caress Tino’s hair, and then pulled his hand back when one of the guards said something. “You’re pale. Are you sick?”

Nova reached past Tino and took his files back from the lawyer, like he needed to touch them. To be in control somehow, but he didn’t say anything.

Tino looked to Nova and then gave Romeo a smile. “I’m pale? Look in the mirror lately?”

“No.” Romeo shook his head and didn’t take the bait on Tino’s joke. “I try not to look in mirrors these days.”

“Well, you look like merda.” Tino stared at him pointedly. “You’d think you’ve been in jail or something.”

“I’ve missed you, Valentino.” Romeo laughed even though it was obvious he didn’t want to, and then just as quickly he sobered and looked down, his light eyes swimming with tears. “Are you okay? Why are you so thin? Aren’t you eating?”

“No, I’m
not
eating,” Tino responded. “Prison food has got to be an improvement over Casanova’s cooking.”

“He can cook,” Romeo said in disbelief. “Can’t he?” He looked at Nova. “You’ve watched me cook. Can’t you just remember and imitate it?”

“Asshole cannot cook,” Tino said slowly in Italian before Nova could answer. “I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but he can’t do it. He burned pasta. In a pot of water.
He burned it.
”