The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3) (41 page)

The don looked around the back of limo, from Carlo to Monte, before his gaze rested back on Nova.

Nova resisted the urge to shift nervously, because so much was riding on going into this meeting.

“If you send an eighteen-year-old into the commission meeting as consigliere, you’ll make the entire Borgata a joke,” Monte growled. “We’ll never live it down.”

“I am eighteen,” Nova said without hesitating, because there was no sense in denying the obvious. “But I am smarter than anyone in this car. I’m smarter than everyone on the commission too…and they know it.”

“Smart is not life experience. You’re not old enough to do this job.” Monte said it like he believed it. “You haven’t bled enough. You haven’t made enough mistakes, and we’re not letting you break your teeth in with our commission spot.”

“I’ve lived, and I’ve made a fuckload of mistakes while I did it,” Nova assured them, unable to hide the crack of pain in his voice when he considered just how many. “I work eighty hours a week. I quadrupled this Borgata’s income. You didn’t do that.
I did!
” Nova leaned in, getting in Monte’s face. “And do not
ever
question how much I’ve bled!” He poked Monte’s chest, making him scoot back on instinct. “My brother is out there somewhere, and you’re saying I haven’t fucking bled! I’ve bled rivers! I’m still bleeding!” Nova turned on the don. “I want the consigliere spot.”

Aldo tilted his head, looking from where Monte had scooted back next to the window, to Nova, who folded his arms over his chest to hide the shake in them.

“You look like shit, Nova,” Aldo finally said. “Have you shaved in the past three days?”

“I—” Nova arched an eyebrow and had to admit, “No, Don, I haven’t.”

“Okay, Carlo, call Gino. Have him go to Frankie’s place. Pick up Nova’s shit—his shaving kit, a fucking toothbrush, and some cologne. Make sure he gets Nova’s best suit. The Versace with the shoes to match. Black shirt. Gold tie. I want it to be gold. If he doesn’t have one—”

“I have one.” Nova kept his arms folded rather than betray his nerves. “It’s in my closet. My shit’s on the right side. Tell him not to fuck with Tino’s stuff on the left. He gets weird about that.”

“Don—” Monte whispered.

“It’s temporary,” the don assured him. “No one has more to lose than Nova. It’s his brother. If he fucks up, it’s on him. Let him cut his teeth.”

“You’re replacing me with this bastardo?” Monte asked him in disbelief.

“Like he said, it’s temporary,” the don repeated calmly. Then he turned around and knocked on the window until it went down. “Call the other car. Nova’s taking my spot.”

For one brief moment, the driver, Rocco, looked shocked, considering the don had held the commission seat since he was capo bastone to his father. Then Rocco called the other car and worked on finding a place to pull off.

“If we’re at war, it’s time to start acting like it,” Aldo decided for all of them. “Monte, you go with Nova. Be a mature voice for him. This isn’t a bad thing. Hard blood is always good. Change is good too.” The don reached out and patted Monte’s cheek when the car stopped. “It’s okay.” Then he leaned over and kissed Nova’s cheek. “Call me after.”

Nova nodded. “Have fun in the Hamptons.”

“I think I can get used to this war merda.” The don grinned as he opened the car door. Three soldiers stood there waiting for him like human shields. When Carlo tried to slide out after him, the don pointed to Nova. “Get him a fucking cup of coffee before the meeting.”

“Yeah, okay.” Carlo moved back in because it had obviously been automatic to follow the don, but he was the commission enforcer for the Moretti Borgata. He was supposed to be there too. “Be safe, old man.”

“Old man, my ass. I’m gonna be happy to get rid of you.” The don was smiling as he said it. “Always a smart-ass. Like your ma. She was a smart-ass too.”

Carlo smiled. “Probably why you liked her.”

“I like girls who bite,” the don agreed and held up his hands to the limo. “Look at this. A real Moretti administration. We’ll put some life in the commission. Shake things up a little. How fucking Sicilian is that?”

“Really fucking Sicilian.” Monte sighed when the don closed the door. Then he glared at Nova and said, “I hope you’re happy, you little shit.”

“No, I’m
not
happy.” Nova finally unfolded his arms and ran a hand through his hair. “Not yet.” Then he turned back to Monte and glared. “But the next time you speak to me, you call me Zu, motherfucker. You make me seem weak at this meeting, and we’re gonna have a fucking issue. So you better get over your shit right now.”

Monte snorted. “You think you’re tough?”

“Yeah,” Nova said sardonically. “I think I’m tough.” And then, just because he was feeling frantic and miserable over Tino, he decided to channel his father’s sadistic side. “I wanna hear you say it. I think we should practice.”

“You’re gonna make me say it?” Monte asked him incredulously. “You steal my title, and then you’re gonna make me say it?”

Nova looked at the roof of the limo for a second and then nodded. “Yes, I’m gonna make you say it.”

“You can’t make me say it.” Monte laughed in disbelief. “No fucking way.”

Carlo pushed his jacket back, showing off the gun in his holster as he glared at his cousin. “I can make you say it.”

“You protect the administration,” Monte reminded him.

Carlo just raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I do.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Nova stopped brushing his teeth and spit again, fighting to stay alert enough to pull this off. Someone on this commission knew where Tino was. They wouldn’t have called the meeting without someone coming forward to say they knew something. All the families were getting nervous with the raids.

Nova had single-handedly wrecked ten marriages since yesterday, and he should probably feel really fucking bad about it. Considering those bitches had been paying to rent his brother, it gave him a sick sort of thrill instead. That sadistic side his father had gifted him with was going full throttle. He made sure everyone knew why he was ripping apart houses, which was something Tino might not appreciate if they got him out alive.

But Nova didn’t consider this shit Tino’s sins.

It wasn’t something his brother should be ashamed of.

He considered it the Brambinos’ sins.

And Nova’s own sins, but he was going to have to deal with that later.

All the shit he ignored because he was too fucking busy working or too distracted by ecstasy and sex to give a shit. He’d been selfish. Incredibly so. He didn’t want to babysit Tino, or micromanage his life like Romeo would have, because replacing Romeo meant acknowledging Nova was the reason his older brother was in jail. That was Nova’s fucking burden to bear, but right now it was making him feel better to take it out on everyone else.

He was halfway through that client list when the meeting was called.

Nova took a long drink of the coffee next to him, making Carlo wince.

“You just brushed your teeth.” Carlo reached out and tapped the corner of Nova’s eye with something cold and wet. Nova jerked back, and Carlo said, “Don’t move.”

“What is it?” Nova brushed under his eye and stared at the white, sticky smear on his fingers. He rubbed them together, because it didn’t feel like lotion. “What the fuck is this, stronzo?”

Carlo showed him the tube, and Nova jumped back with the agility born from a lifetime of martial arts and growing up with two brothers who sometimes enjoyed fucking with him when they thought he was getting too uptight.

“You’re trying to put ass cream on my face?” Nova asked incredulously. “Fuck off!”

“It’s a trick.” Carlo grabbed his chin, because that motherfucker was very fast, but Nova deflected him and shoved him back. “Listen!” Carlo shouted when Nova ducked another grab for his face. “You look like death. My ma was a model. This’ll help. I’m not fucking with you ten minutes before the commission meeting. This is a real thing. Trust me.”

“You carry that on you.” Nova tilted his head and gave Carlo a concerned look. “Motherfucker—”

“No, I had Gino pick some up on the way back from Frankie’s.” Carlo leaned in and touched the corner of Nova’s eye again. “Look up.”

“Minchia,” Nova cursed under his breath. “Does it have a smell? Am I gonna walk into this fucking meeting smelling like ass?”

“Nah, you’re good. I use it all the time. Do I smell like ass?”

Nova took a deep breath, trying to see if he could smell it, but he knew his sense of smell wasn’t that strong. He could smell some things if they had a distinctive scent, like weed or women’s perfume, but not the same way others did.

“I can’t tell. I’ll have to trust you.” Nova kept looking up as Carlo worked on his other eye. “Was your ma really a model?”

“Yeah. Her picture was in Times Square. You think the old man gets cheap ass? My ma was hot. She was living here on a work visa when she met him, and he decided to give her an excuse to stay.” Carlo tossed the cream on the counter. He reached over and grabbed a bag of peas from the bodega bag. “Hold these on your eyes for a couple of minutes.”

“This is the weirdest shit I’ve ever done in my life.” Nova held the peas on his eyes anyway, if for no other reason than the cold did a better job than coffee at waking him up. “So your ma got knocked up by the don on purpose?”

“Yup. Otherwise they would’ve shipped her back to
Italia
.”

Nova snorted. “At least me and Tino were a fucking accident.”

“Yeah, but there’s two of you,” Carlo reminded him. “My ma got wise and stopped after one.”

“True. If your ma had her picture in Times Square, why’d you grow up on the bad side of Washington Heights? Money-management issues?”

“Life-management issues.” Carlo ran his hands through Nova’s hair, leaving something sticky on his forehead, making Nova realize he was putting gel in it. “The old man, though. He wasn’t like Frankie. He tried to help her, but you know, smack can be a real sexy boyfriend after a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Nova whispered, knowing he’d stepped into a sore subject.

“It’s okay. We all got a sad story.” Carlo sighed. “Some more than others. Mine’s not that fucking bad.”

“Yeah, I guess mine’s not either.” Nova tossed the peas on the counter and looked to Carlo. “Are you gonna be cool in there?”

“I don’t know.” Carlo sounded haunted. “I have to look at those motherfuckers and know what they’ve done to her all this time. I just—” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“We’re gonna fuck the Brambinos,” Nova promised him. “One way or the other.”

“We are.” Carlo nodded in agreement. “One way or the other.”

Nova turned to the mirror and studied his reflection. He didn’t see a difference in his eyes, but he wasn’t paying too much attention. Instead he ran a hand down his chest and huffed. “Fucking gold tie.”

Carlo snorted. “You look Siciliano.”

“I look Siciliano, all right.” Nova tilted his head and eyed himself wearing the tie the don bought him for Christmas last year. “Like a Jersey
guido
shopping for
sticchiu
.”

Carlo laughed and cupped a hand over his mouth as he studied Nova. “That’s exactly what you look like. Puttaniere.”

“Whatever.” Nova turned away from the mirror and put a hand on the counter. He bowed his head right there in front of Carlo, who had become the only person besides his brothers Nova felt like he could trust. Out loud he prayed, “Please, Ma.”

Carlo grabbed Nova’s face and pressed his forehead to Nova’s. Then Carlo said the Hail Mary in Italian, holding the cross around his neck like he did this a lot when he needed strength. Nova squeezed his eyes shut, trying to let the words wash over him. To somehow give him power. It wasn’t quite the same as Carina’s “Ave Maria” in the shower, but it felt like a good sign. When Carlo was done, they both crossed themselves, and Carlo kissed Nova’s forehead. “He’s strong, Nova. He walked away once, right?”

Nova shook his head, because the tears were threatening. He glanced up, fighting the urge to break down three minutes before this meeting. He looked across the tiled ceiling, quickly counting them, hearing in his mind young Tino.

“How many tiles on the ceiling?”

“One hundred and twenty-two.”

“How many dots in the tiles?”

“Twenty.”

“All the dots?”

“Two thousand, four hundred and forty.”

“Madonn’.” Tino stopped washing his hands and looked up in surprise. “If we had a dollar for all the dots on this ceiling, we’d be rich.”

“Yeah, we would,” Nova agreed. “If we had a hundred dollars for every dot, we could buy a house.”

“And a dog,” Tino added. “I wish we had a dog.”

“Can’t have a dog in the building,” Nova reminded him. “We got you instead.”

A knock sounded on the door, and their mother called out in Italian, “Ehi, are you drowning in there?”

“Sorry, Ma,” Nova answered for both of them.

“You’re not even supposed to be up here. This is a private place. A special place. Hurry up, but make sure Piccolo washes his hands.”

“He’s washing ’em,” Nova said impatiently. “What? We’re not allowed to be in his restaurant? Or take a piss in his bathroom?”

She peeked in and narrowed dark eyes as she pointed at Nova. “Watch your mouth!”

Tino smiled in amusement, and Nova hit the back of his head in retaliation. “Stai zitto, piccolo.”

He didn’t hit him hard, but Tino went down gloriously, in the way only a four-year-old could, cupping his head as he shouted, “Ow!”

“Maledizione, Casanova!” His mother came into the men’s bathroom like a hawk, swooping up Tino and then smacking the back of Nova’s head. “You don’t hit the baby!”

Tino rested his cheek on their mother’s shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Nova before she disappeared out the door.

“You okay?” Carlo asked him.

Nova was still looking at the door. “I guess.”

People weren’t meant to remember things forever.

No one knew how hard it was to see all the faces, from all the years, and not forget the details. No one but him understood how much people changed and how much they stayed the same. He lived it every day. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.