Page 48 of The Enforcer's Revenge

“You think it’s making her high-strung?” the Don asked.

They were all still speaking in hushed whispers, and Nova answered as he looked back to his phone. “Without question. Giving benzos up would make a normal person have a hard time sleeping, and she’s not normal. Thanks, Valentino.”

“No, it’s fine.” The Don reached over and squeezed Tino’s hand. “You watch out for her.” Then he pushed the chair back and leaned across the table to pat Tino’s cheek affectionately. “It’s good.”

It was a minor miracle Tino had the self-restraint not to roll his eyes. He just grabbed the Don’s hand, dutifully kissed his ring, and smiled. “Grazie.”

Carina walked in with a fresh carton of eggs. “Where the fuck is Carlo? He’ll miss breakfast.”

“Paper’s probably here.” Nova tossed his phone on the table. “I’ll check on him.”

“No.” Tino pushed his chair back. He needed to wake up anyway. This tired, he might just tell the Don how he felt about everything. “I’ll get him.”

The signs from Carina’s birthday were still on the doors upstairs, except for Carina’s. She pulled it down before the Don got there because it advertised:

Birthday girl.

Visitors welcome.

Must bring cake and be good on your knees.

Carlo’s door wasn’t any less subtle as it cautioned:

Carlo Moretti

A trigger-happy motherfucker.

You’ve been warned.

Tino didn’t bother to knock; he just quietly turned the handle and walked in. He found Carlo right where he expected him: passed out on the king-sized bed. It looked like Carlo had at least tried to get up because he was sprawled out above the sheets in his underwear, snoring.

He snored like Nova, that soft, growly sound like he was so thoroughly Moretti, there was always a little bite to him, even when he slept.

Tino was tired enough that it gave him mental whiplash. He found himself crawling into bed with his zio, as if he were back over the garage in Dyker Heights.

Or in their old East Harlem apartment.

“Move over, stronzo.” Tino shoved Carlo, but he didn’t roll over automatically like Nova would’ve.

Carlo jerked awake instead, looking on the defense like any good enforcer would. He had slammed his hand against the nightstand, wrapping his fingers around his 9mm.

“The fuck?” he mumbled, frowning at Tino.

“Carina’s cooking,” Tino explained in Italian.

“Oh.” Carlo dropped his head back to the pillow and fell asleep again.

The stronzo still didn’t move over. It must be nice to be raised as an only child. Not like he and Frankie ever shared a bed. Tino didn’t need much space to sleep. He just rolled up in the blankets next to his zio, listening to Carlo snore, and promptly passed out.

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but the next moment, Tino was jerking awake before he knew why. His hand flew to the nightstand, but his fingers tightened around nothing but air. He was tangled in the sheets and blinked in confusion. Nova knocked the 9mm in Carlo’s hand dismissively, likely because he saw Carlo hadn’t let the safety off.

“Stronzi,” Nova snapped at the two of them. “She’s got breakfast waiting for you.”

Tino was still confused. The cocaine crash made his thoughts a little fuzzy.

Carlo didn’t have the same problem, so he asked the question for both of them, “Is something going down? Why do I have to get up?” He tossed his gun back on the nightstand and grabbed the small burner cellphone. He frowned when he looked at it, bringing it closer to his face before he shouted in Italian, “It’s six-thirty! Get the fuck out, Nova!” Then he jerked, as if only now noticing Tino sleeping next to him. “Are you two high?”

“You snore like Nova,” Tino explained and dropped his head back to the pillow, thinking it explained everything.