The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(111)

“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 f*cking 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 f*cking 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 motherf*ckers and know what they’ve done to her all this time. I just—” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“We’re gonna f*ck 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!”