Page 150 of The Enforcer

“They said you were shot.” Carlo kept his hand on Tino’s shoulder. “Is it bad?”

Tino couldn’t answer him. He was still trying to keep his shit together. He hurt all over, and like it was in the shower, he wanted to fucking die.

To be done with it.

He could’ve asked for water. Instead he said, “Just fucking do it.”

Carlo was quiet for a second, before he whispered, “Nova got you a pass.”

Tino was still fighting the pain, but the aspirin did enough that he knew something wasn’t right. If Nova had gotten him the pass, then Nova would be here instead of Carlo. So he craned his neck and looked at Carlo over his shoulder. “But—”

Carlo sat and brought his legs around. He rested his chin on his knees, and for one crazy moment, Carlo looked vulnerable, letting Tino see what he must’ve been like as a kid running wild in Washington Heights.

The original Peter Pan.

Before Cosa Nostra got him and turned him into a pirate instead.

“Nova got the client list,” Carlo whispered. “Actually, Carina got the client list, but Nova exposed it. ’Cept, you know, he didn’t consider what would happen when dozens of made men found out you were fucking their wives.”

Tino snorted, because Nova, the guy who thought of everything, didn’t consider the one thing Tino thought about all the time.

“Most of the families voted to ice you. ’Cept the De Lucas. They stood with Nova. It was sorta a north-south civil-war thing. Italiano style.”

“And—” Tino pressed.

“You have to be an enforcer.” Carlo choked on the words. “I love Nova. He’s the only real friend I’ve ever had in my life.”

Tino was quiet, because he knew Carlo was Nova’s only friend too.

“But I swear to God, Tino, I don’t think I love him enough to do this.” Carlo looked to Tino, and tears rolled down his cheeks, making his blue eyes glimmer in the dim lighting. “You’re not just my nephew. You’re like my little brother too. Do you understand what being an enforcer means?”

Tino studied him for a long time but didn’t say anything.

“Anyone can come up.” Carlo’s voice cracked. “Your brother. Your sister. The old man. The one kid you thought was safe from this bullshit. I’ve considered a lotta people. I’ve spent nights worrying that one day Nova’s brain would make them too nervous, and I’d get a piece of paper with his name on it, but I never thought it would be you. That’s what sucks. It hits you when you least expect it. It could beanyone, Tino.”

Tino rolled back on his side and closed his eyes. He was tired as hell, since it’d been almost impossible to get any real sleep handcuffed like that.

“But what the fuck am I supposed to do? Let the Savios do it?” Carlo said bitterly. “Once that name’s on the paper, they’re already dead. All we do is send them home the best way possible.”

“And me?” Tino asked. “How’re you sending me home?”

“I don’t know. I thought about smack,” Carlo confessed. “But you’re already shot, so an overdose won’t work. It’ll have to be a bullet.”

“I like a bullet. That works,” Tino decided, remembering Rosie in the bedroom. “Where?”

“Chest,” Carlo whispered. “So we can have an open casket.”

“Deficiente,” Tino cursed and looked back to Carlo. “Make me eat it.”

“No. Fuck, no.” Carlo looked even more horrified, as if that were possible. “That’s a horrible way to go. Nothing’s pretty about it.”

“I know,” Tino choked as he remembered the horror in the bedroom. “That’s how Rosie went.”

“Fucker.” Carlo shook his head. “I’m not making you eat a bullet, Tino. Nova would lose his fucking mind. Literally. He’d go insane, and what the hell happens then? I have no idea, but it can’t be good for anyone. He told me to remind you what he’ll turn into if you say no. I promised him I would. So there, I reminded you.”

“What would you do?” Tino asked.

“I’d take the bullet.” Carlo said it without hesitating. “Nova’s a shit storm waiting to happen. Right now he’s controllable, but there’s gonna come a day when he’s not. Either he’s gonna take over, or his name’s gonna be on a piece of paper. It’s gonna happen. I promise you. I have nightmares about it. The only thing worse than me getting that piece of paper is you getting it.”