The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(127)

Carina’s father lost his shit when he saw her tattoo, since Italians didn’t mark themselves like the other crime organizations did. He thought it was dirty and ghetto, something only a slut would do. Brianna wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t heard him use those exact words. He thought the tattoos were a power play by Nova after the whole Mary fiasco.

Maybe they were.

Especially since Brianna had started seeing that tattoo everywhere in the network, an alliance to the bastardi of the Borgata. More specifically it was an alliance to Nova, showing up across the city, etched into the skin of people who believed in the underdogs.

“I’ll get something,” Brianna said as she broke the awkward silence that had descended on them. “I don’t want you to watch me get it, though.”

Tino arched an eyebrow, staring at Brianna’s short dress. “Don’t wanna show me your ass.”

Brianna shrugged. “Something like that.”



Tino didn’t dance anymore.

That dream died in a basement two years ago.

Now he only watched while guarding her jacket, and he was largely okay with it. He’d always been Brianna’s biggest fan, so watching her dance wasn’t a hardship. Plus, he’d taken the obligatory shot with the girls when they got to the club to chill himself out.

Fireball.

Nasty.

But not surprisingly, it was Carina’s favorite for the moment. She took three shots to Tino’s and Brianna’s one and was currently enjoying the dance floor with Paco, who just happened to show up.

Tino might have thought it was a coincidence since they were in East Harlem, but Paco just happened to show up the last four times they went out. Tino wasn’t real sure what Carina and Paco had in common besides the obvious, and that was probably it.

In a bizarre twist of fate, Paco had become Carina’s current f*ck buddy.

Hence the current obsession with El Barrio, which worked for Tino since it was his home turf, but still…

Very nasty.

Tino ordered a Red Bull and vodka to wash the taste of Fireball off his tongue and sat back to watch Brianna dance with one of her friends. Aaron, a guy she’d met during summer dance workshops since she decided to jump in early instead of waiting until fall semester classes started at New York’s Premiere Center for the Arts.

Aaron reminded Tino of a taller, more fit and agile Bobby. A healthy Bobby who hadn’t turned to smack after Cosa Nostra politics forced him out of the only life he’d ever known. Everyone tried to help him. They used money and patience, and Bobby was still doing porn and lost to them all. He didn’t want one of the apartments Tino bought as an investment and offered to him for free. He didn’t want Nova’s help with getting a diploma.

Bobby wanted drugs, and the cash that came from f*cking for a living.

A Lost Boy who was forever lost.

Aaron had the same wheat-blond hair, the same innocent face and deep dimples. He also had the same cockiness of a man who knew how to move his body to get attention, though maybe not for the same reasons.

So Tino watched this fresh-faced Bobby impostor dance with Brianna, kept an eye on Carina plastered against Paco even if he didn’t want to, and downed his drink faster than he should when he was working.

“You okay, bro?” The bartender pointed to Tino’s glass.

The club was packed, but since they were in the network, the staff usually paid attention to Tino. Made sure he was happy, didn’t card him even if he had a fake ID in his wallet. Carina never bothered carrying a fake ID, and Brianna was okay to pass on drinking but somehow got sucked into a few because of Carina.

“Sí, grazie,” Tino answered in Italian, playing the role as he turned his attention on the dance floor once more.

Back to watching as Aaron tried to make himself look good rather than get the job done like a dance partner was supposed to when he was with someone as f*cking gorgeous and talented as Brianna. Was Aaron wearing high heels and a black minidress that showed off mile-long legs and clung to an ass designed to be worshipped?

No, he wasn’t.

Brianna’s dress dipped low in the back, exposing the curve of her spine. That little black dress bled sex. It was particularly daring tonight, even for her, and Aaron was currently ruining the effect. He was too impressed with himself. Too used to being the best on the stage like every other dancer she’d met in that summer program.

Brianna needed a partner who made her shine, not the other way around, especially in a f*cking Latin club. If any style of dance was designed to make a woman look sexy, it was Latin dancing.

This Aaron needed to get off the dance floor with his Bobby charm and Iowa farm-boy enthusiasm. It was making Tino depressed as f*ck, not just for the friend he’d lost, but also for Dyker Heights Tino who’d died in a basement just like East Harlem Tino had.

He wasn’t even sure what Tino was left anymore.

Maybe he should stop drinking for the night and start doing blow instead, but he didn’t like to do blow around the girls. He saved that for work. Real work. The dirty work the rest of the family didn’t like to talk about.

Six years later and he was still rationing drugs.

Playing the game every day, deciding what was worth blow, what was worth booze, and what was worth lying in bed jerking off to the memories of what Brianna felt like against him, sweaty from the heat, moving with him like they were back in that bunk bed.