The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(123)

Recovery sucked ass.

Aided largely by being stuck in the f*cking basement and Romeo being pissed the hell off the entire time.

Not kinda pissed, but biblically pissed. Part-the-Red-Sea and kill-armies pissed. Hate-everyone-in-the-don’s-mansion pissed.

Pick-fights-with-the-Morettis’-lead-enforcer pissed, to the point that Carlo said one morning when Romeo went to meet with his probation officer, “I know you love him, but I think I have to clip your brother on principle. I haven’t had a motherf*cker talk to me like that”—Carlo paused as if thinking—“ever.”

“We lied to him all this time. Now, to get out and find Tino beat down by another Borgata…” Nova sighed and rested his head against his folded arms on Tino’s bed. “He has a right to be pissed.”

“I think the don’s gonna write his name on a piece of paper,” Carlo warned.

“Please don’t let him do that.” Nova raised his gaze to Carlo on the other side of the bed. “I’ll chill Romeo out. I’ll rein him in. Just let him be pissed for a little while. His baby brother has a bullet hole in him, and his back is torn to shreds. Trust me, that’s not an easy thing to deal with. He’s justified.”

“Thank God he doesn’t know all of it,” Carlo whispered, like he didn’t dare say it out loud, but did anyway because he was Carlo. “Can you imagine what kinda f*cking bear he’d be if he found out all the Mary shit?”

Tino grunted at that, feeling all his defenses go up. He rolled over, turning away from Carlo and rubbing his wrist where his band used to be. Tino felt naked without it, but he couldn’t tell them that. He couldn’t rage at Nova for taking away the network he’d used to survive for so long. He couldn’t explain that as f*cked-up as it was, a part of Tino mourned the loss of his band. With it, he knew there were people out there who cared about his pain. Even if they were strangers, he always knew there would be someone who could find him and understand.

He’d never hear that he mattered again, and it left him feeling lost and alone.

He closed his eyes to hide from Nova, the same way he’d learned to hide from Romeo when he was hovering over him, never fully buying the story they’d fed him that Tino nearly died for f*cking a made man’s wife. Maybe some part of Romeo knew the real story was too much to bear, and since the lies closest to the truth were always the best ones to tell, they’d left out the underground-sex-slave situation.

Just Tino being a typical Siciliano, starting young and making mistakes for *. And the Savios took it out on Tino, beating him, whipping him, covering up the marks of Tino’s father with marks of their own.

How nice and neat.

Now all that shit that happened when he was twelve never needed to come up. Just like the Mary shit never needed to come up. Romeo could live out the rest of his f*cking life and never know what going to prison caused.

He could be part-the-Red-Sea pissed at Nova and Tino instead.

For being their father’s sons. For choosing this life instead of something different.

“I know you’re mad.” Nova caressed Tino’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “I’m gonna make it up to you—”

“Don’t,” Tino growled before he could finish.

“Yeah, don’t,” Carlo agreed.

“Now both of yous are pissed at me too?” Nova snapped. “You think I wanted this? You think this is my f*cking fault? So you make me the f*cking bad guy? Is that what you’re doing?”

“You could’ve thought of something else.” Carlo said it in a furious whisper, because this was the first time the three of them were truly alone without doctors or Romeo or the don lingering in the basement. “That was a charts-and-graphs accountant decision. That’s bottom-line shit. As long as he’s alive, that’s all that f*cking matters to you. There’s worse things than dying, Nova, but you don’t know that. You’re not out there digging shallow graves. You want your brother to have to pull the trigger on you one day? ’Cause that’s what you signed him up for.”

“No one’s pulling the trigger on me. Not yet.” Nova leaned in and grabbed Tino’s face, but he looked at Carlo. “I want you two to listen to me, listen real close, ’cause I’m only saying this once.” His voice was barely a whisper, forcing Tino to listen. “The hand we were dealt was shit. It’s always been shit, and if they have it their way, it’ll be shit until the day they stick us in the f*cking ground, but I’m tired of bleeding for them. I’m tired of hurting for them. I’m tired of puking my guts up ’cause they rape my f*cking soul over and over again.”

“I’m sorry it’s so hard for you in the organization, Zu.” Tino glared at his brother as he said it. “Must be really difficult to deal with all the paper cuts the don dishes out.” Then, just because he needed to say it out loud, he pointed at his brother. “Don’t you ever talk about them raping your soul again. I don’t wanna hear it leave your mouth, ’cause you have no f*cking idea.”

“You’re pissed at me, Valentino. Your brother. The guy who would cut off his own friggin’ arm for you. That’s what they want from you, and you’re handing it to them. Be pissed at them instead. You two are letting them divide us. They want you to blame me. To blame each other. To blame Romeo. It’s a control tactic, and it’s bullshit. It keeps us eating outta their hands instead of fighting against them.” Nova’s voice was shaking now. “They gave us shit hands, so we’ll bluff until we win, but we are gonna f*cking win. Lost Boys stick together. We do not let those old-school motherf*ckers divide us. They want us in. They want us in so they can use us and shit on us for being bastardi. Fine. We’re in. We’re in like a motherf*cker, and we’re never getting out. This organization is our f*cking life. This ship is our reason to live and breathe, ’cause it’s our f*cking ship. I don’t want to just survive Cosa Nostra anymore. That’s not my motivation. Not after this shit. I want to own Cosa Nostra, and I want you two to own it with me.”