Page 156 of The Enforcer

A gigantic fuck-you to all the Northern Italian families who didn’t consider Sicilians real Italians. Some Sicilians didn’t consider themselves Italian either. They were their own special breed of Mediterranean badasses, who apparently held grudges they wanted to last forever.

So there it was, stamped right on their asses until the end of time.

According to the Morettis, Sicilians weren’t just Italian, but top-shelf, grade A Italians at that.

Brianna had to admit, standing there looking down at the two of them, the tattoos made a good argument. Tino’s shirt was pulled up, his jeans were pushed low, showing off the rounded, muscular curve of his ass, and he couldn’t care less.

Brianna held Tino’s leather jacket tighter against her chest, unconsciously smelling his cologne that clung to it. Usually he wouldn’t take it off, because it exposed his gun holster and the Glock it held, but the tattoo parlor was one of the many businesses in the Moretti network.

The owners knew what Tino was, and they had him and Carina in a private room because of it. Which was probably a good thing, considering the ass issue. Carina’s was hanging out too, the tan line from her too-small bikini vibrant under the fluorescent lights.

The heavyset, bearded tattoo artist working on her tattoo appeared to notice, but Tino didn’t seem too worried about it. Instead he rested his chin in his hand and stared at Brianna as he asked, “Are you checking me out?”

Her cheeks heated, because she and Tino had been on hold in the friend zone for a long time. It had been manageable because Tino had been largely gone until recently. Now he was around all the time, and the tension was slowly starting to drive her insane.

“Hard not to.” Brianna gestured to his ass with the jacket still in her hand. “It’s out there for everyone to see.”

Tino waggled his eyebrows. “Looks good, right?”

“Stop.” Carina made a gagging sound.

“Especially since you don’t back up your teasing,” Brianna added with an arch of her eyebrow, deciding that if he could dish it, he could take it.

“I’ll back it up,” Tino said with a wide smile that made him look too handsome and was all the more dangerous because he knew it. “You want me to dance for you, baby.”

“Yeah.” Brianna’s cheeks were still hot, but she looked at him anyway and refused to back down. “Dance for me.”

Tino was silent for a long seconds, his dark gaze hot and needy as it ran over her, making her think his teasing might not just be teasing. They shared a private moment in front of two burly tattoo artists and his sister, but in the end Tino said, “Nah, good girls don’t want dirty boys to dance for them.”

“Bullshit.” Brianna looked away, but she made sure he heard it. Then she shrugged and said, “But whatever.”

“Bri—” Tino started.

“I get it,” she said before he could give her an explanation.

They were all silent then, caught in a sea of secrets and lies. Brianna stared at Tino again, his broad, cut back with the straps of his shoulder holster stretched across it above his shirt. Sometimes he wore a holster that held two guns, one on each side for times when life got more complicated. When he disappeared for a few days with his uncle and came back tired and world-weary.

But most of the time, Tino’s job as an enforcer wasn’t so bad.

Especially since he took over as one of Carina’s bodyguards.

That was what enforcers did on their downtime.

They protected the administration and their families, because being at the top of the totem pole meant the family got the best bodyguards.

It didn’t happen overnight; for a long time Tino shadowed his uncle everywhere. He never came back to school or dance crew, and even with Mary’s bullshit done and no more dealing, Tino was always busy.

Always gone.

Dropped out of school and just kind of disappeared.

He was at his brother Romeo’s apartment more than anything. Back to being Harlem Tino on the outside, and something none of them were allowed to know about when he went off with Carlo. She tried not to complain because she knew what his brothers meant to him, and being back in Harlem was important to all of them.

Brianna remembered the first night they’d pulled Tino out of the Savios’ basement. It also happened to be the first night Romeo was out of prison.

She and Carina sat on the top steps to the don’s basement, listening to Nova throwing up in the bathroom downstairs like all the fear and horror waited until right then to show up while Romeo cried over Tino. Even if their older brother didn’t know the whole truth, there was no way to hide that Tino had been shot and beaten by an opposing family. Romeo knew his prison stay had left his younger brothers in Cosa Nostra for the rest of their lives, and he sounded really broken over it. So Brianna and Carina sat there listening rather than intrude on the breakdown of not one, but two imposing and intimidating men.

She and Carina wanted to be close to Tino, but eventually Carlo just said, “Come on,” and forced them back upstairs.