The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(68)

’Cause it made him feel normal.

’Cause it made Brianna happy.

’Cause he liked the way her ass looked in spandex.

“And it’s more than that,” Nova said before Tino could answer. “There’s something weird about you. I don’t know what it is, but you got that club-band thing going, and you never take it off.”

“You’re giving me shit about club culture?” Tino laughed in his face, even though the band had nothing to do with clubbing. Nova just assumed it did because so many Lost Girls and Boys wore them. “You are the rave-boy poster child. And you do poppers now. You have no room to be giving me shit about dance team.”

“Poppers make the roll more intense,” Nova said defensively. “There’s a specific reason I use them.”

“Poppers are gay.” Tino held up his hands. “Everyone knows they’re gay. They relax your muscles. There’s only one reason a guy would want that, especially since they can make your dick soft.”

“How do you know that? Where do you learn all this shit?” Nova pressed suspiciously. “They don’t make my dick soft, by the way. I have the exact opposite problem, if you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” Tino assured him.

“Are you gay?” Nova asked him again. “Please just tell me.”

“I’m not answering that,” Tino said in response. “If you’ve used your big brain to figure out the reason I’m f*cked-up is because I’m gay, then whatever.”

“Last week Sara said she tried with you, and you weren’t interested.”

“So because I won’t let one of your party girls suck my dick on the D train, I’m gay?” Tino barked at him, and since they were speaking Italian, he didn’t bother to keep his voice down. “You’re an idiot, Casanova.”

“I have never seen more girls come on to a guy in my life, Valentino,” Nova said slowly. “And you don’t f*ck them. Why?”

Because Tino was scared to death of compromising himself.

He didn’t want to know what would happen if Mary found out he was f*cking off the clock. She went to great lengths to make sure he didn’t catch something. To make sure her product wasn’t compromised. Everyone in the high-class sex-trade rings was tested. Even still, Tino could write a book on safe sex because those mob wives were terrified of giving their husbands something and exposing themselves, but it still wasn’t worth it.

So Tino didn’t say anything.

“Are you nervous?” Nova asked, as if that was another possibility he considered, one he was extremely hopeful for. “I could give you tips. You can talk to me about stuff like that.”

“If I need a tip, I’ll let you know.” Tino was seriously going to give himself eyestrain from all the eye rolling. He reached over and got his iPod out of the backpack on Nova’s lap. Then he put in his earphones and announced, “I’m out.”

Tino slept on the subway a lot, because he didn’t get much sleep on the weekends. He had dance-team stuff during the day, and he dealt at night, technically under the umbrella of Nova’s crew, but it was his father making him do it.

To be useful.

To earn his keep.

He didn’t have a five-hundred-pound brain that could make millions and launder money, so he f*cked for Mary and dealt for Frankie all to earn the special privilege of sleeping in the apartment over the garage.

Lost Boys had to be useful. They had to earn money, not cost money like other mafiosi kids. They were an investment, not an obligation.

He dozed with the chilled-out throb of low-key techno pulsing in his ears loud enough to block out the train and his brother’s bullshit. He took the opportunity and let Nova watch his back, because they were going to switch jobs soon.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the Nova-babysitting gig, Tino would’ve probably started eating pills on the weekends too.

Or at least smoking a little.

Sorta like the sex, Tino didn’t mind dealing so much now, but at first he f*cking hated it and wanted a way to hide from being forced into it. Except shortly after his father threw the backpack at him and told him to be useful, Nova discovered he liked the shit Tino was selling.

In the beginning Nova really had come with Tino to watch his back.

Nova was the one packing.

Nova was the one on guard, but it took a single * questioning Tino’s shit to change everything. The prick expected one of them to take the hit to prove it was good, so Nova took the ecstasy even though his brain reacted funny to a lot of things.

Nova did okay with pot, but he’d snorted coke one time when he was working overtime for the old man while juggling crew work and school and didn’t blink for three days. He was wired like a motherf*cker. Tino could not wait for him to come down. It made Nova paranoid as hell. Tino wanted to kill Carlo for giving it to him in the first place.

Nova’s brain on cocaine was a f*cking nightmare.

It would’ve been a better plan for Tino to take the ecstasy. They didn’t need to go through another blow disaster, but Nova was still in that self-sacrificing, superguilty mode. So he took it and discovered that cocaine might not agree with his brain chemistry, but ecstasy sure did.

Now the only help Nova offered on the weekends was as certified ecstasy tester, which probably was something. Tino sold a lot of shit. It kept Frankie off his back, literally, and there it was.