The Enforcer (Untamed Hearts Book 3)(73)
“Oh yeah?” Tino raised his eyebrows, realizing she was talking about more than rolling.
Carla and Meilei wore bands on both their arms, meaning they serviced men and women. He mulled it over, knowing he had to get Nova and whatever party girl he picked up for the night back to the old apartment. He looked out in the crowd, finding Nova easily. Tino wasn’t sure why, but the crowd tended to part a little for Nova. Like he had this energy throbbing off him that forced people to respect his space.
Nova already had his shirt off. He was dancing between two girls who were on him like a second skin. Tino recognized them. Nova had been with them more than once. The girls were a couple, roommates with benefits, but they liked Nova a lot, and they weren’t under any sort of misconception about what he could offer them. College girls who f*cked him on Saturday and called him on Monday for help with their classes, and Nova always took their calls. He always stopped and sat down and talked about whatever the f*ck they were having a hard time passing.
It was an honest and convenient arrangement, and it seemed to work for everyone since the girls had their faces buried in the curves of Nova’s neck, licking at his sweaty skin, probably making the roll extra good, which was what Nova lived for. Tino didn’t totally blame Nova for being half-naked, because Tino wanted to do the same thing without the ecstasy. He really hoped Nova shoved his shirt in his back pocket, because Tino wasn’t taking the subway with Nova like that.
It was just so f*cking hot, and Tino had a goddamn jacket on to keep the gun hidden. The gun that was digging into the small of his back, making it impossible to get comfortable, especially in the heat, and this was all such bullshit. He closed his eyes, trying and failing to push the anger down before he ate a fistful of E to escape it.
“What are we selling?” a low, snarky voice asked over the thump of music. “It’s like an international buffet. Mexican. Chinese. Or cheap Italian.”
Tino turned to see Dominic Brambino standing there in front of him, eyeing the three of them like they were for sale.
Which, really, they were.
Every fine hair on Tino’s body stood on end. Don Moretti, Nova, and Carlo didn’t know what the band on Tino’s wrist meant, but Dominic recognized it Tino’s first day at St. Francis.
It had made the past three and half years of school really wonderful.
“It’s not actually cheap Italian, is it?” Tino mused rather than take the bait. “More like one of those authentic places that’s hard to find. Something you hear about everywhere. Real Italian you wanna taste more than anything but can’t, because you don’t have the connections to get in.”
“I do have the connections, though, troia,” Dominic reminded him. “And I will get in. One of these days, I’m getting in.”
“I would eat a bullet before I let you taste my Italian, and I would take you with me,” Tino assured him, making his voice extra loud like Dominic had to be heard over the music, even though they were in the far corner. “What can I do for you?”
“I want what you’re selling.” He turned and let his gaze run over Meilei. “I like Chinese as much as the next guy.”
Tino couldn’t kick his ass, because Mary would definitely make Tino suffer for the f*ckup in the most unpleasant ways possible. Tino knew it because he had tested it one too many times already.
So he lifted the bag of ecstasy on his chest.
“Do you want it or not?”
“Yeah, gimme three.” Dominic pulled out one twenty and held it out to Tino. “Family discount.”
“You’re not in my family, motherf*cker.” Tino fished three out of the bag. “You’re not in my Borgata either, but I’ll float you the extra two if you get the f*ck outta my face for the rest of my night and leave all the bands alone. Boys and girls.”
“Deal.” Dominic snatched the three small baggies out of Tino’s hand. “I already have company. I heard you’re supposed to be bringing your own * to these parties.”
“Pity the *, then.” Tino grabbed the twenty out of his hand and dropped his head back to Meilei’s thigh. He pointed out to the dance floor. “Now go where I can’t see you.”
“You have an attitude,” Dominic growled at him. “For an indebted whore who rents by the hour, you’ve got an attitude.”
“But that’s what they like about me. That’s what makes me so expensive,” Tino said as he turned on his side and glared at Dominic. “I know how to pull their hair, and they love it. Ask your mother about it sometime if you don’t believe me.”
Dominic’s jaw fell slack, as if he didn’t want to believe Tino, but he did.
He should.
Tino wasn’t bullshitting him about it. He left out that Dominic’s father always watched, which was very high on the list of things Tino could barely stomach about his life. There was no way Carmine was going to let someone f*ck his wife unless he was watching. Then, for some reason, it was perfectly fine. The Brambinos were twisted. All of them. No wonder Dominic was so f*cked-up.
“I floated you the pills,” Tino reminded him. “So unless you feel like coughing up another forty bucks, get outta my face.”
“You know, if I told my ma—”
“But you’re not going to, because if you did, you know I’d tell all of them you’ve been trying to taste my Italian ice for two years, and that doesn’t really fly in Cosa Nostra, does it? Especially since I’m pretty f*cking sure the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and you jerk off thinking about me f*cking you from behind just like your mom does.”