Page 2 of The Enforcer’s Revenge (Untamed Hearts #4)

Brianna let out a sob, and it was mostly honest. She’d been so anxious.

Every moment since she got back to New York had her on edge.

Tino told her before he left that he was breaking bad from the Borgata, and anyone who lived through the first war knew what happened when an enforcer got pushed too far.

She anticipated bloody surprise attacks, and dramatic news reports.

A flat tire and a broken car jack?

Really?

She was shaking as she cried. Finally, she leaned down to place her forehead against her knees when she realized they were tears of relief.

The next great sob was for Tino, knowing he was still much more together than they gave him credit for when he disappeared in the name of revenge.

Brianna felt a small glimmer of hope burn inside her chest, despite memories of the past still haunting her.

“They were having problems,” Tony explained, sounding crushed. “She’s been staying with me, but I think she was hoping they could work it out.”

She kept her face pressed against her knees, crying her secret tears of relief for Tino while the police officers gave Tony the card to the coroner’s office, where they’d taken her husband’s body.

Brianna was officially a terrible person.

Someone in the theater called her a car when the news spread like wildfire.

Tony stayed in her dressing room as she pulled off her robe and put on her street clothes.

Then, the two of them walked out of the back of the theater wearing sunglasses despite the sunset streaming hues of pink and purple across the late November sky.

Tony kept his arm around her, holding her tight against his big, strong body. She wasn’t sure whether it was an act or not, but he did make her feel safe and protected—like enforcers were apt to do.

Again, it was too similar, and Brianna was torn between wanting to cry on his shoulder and shoving him away for being the wrong enforcer.

Tony gave the driver his address, and Brianna swiped at her eyes, seeing the black mascara on her fingers. She was still staring at them, feeling the stain like blood, when Tony dropped a twenty-dollar bill on her thigh in a casual gesture the driver didn’t see.

She stared down at the money, remembering the bet he had made with her before the cops showed up—twenty bucks on who was the better actor.

“Keep it,” she whispered because Tony was a much better actor than she would ever be.

Maybe he knew it because he took the twenty dollars back. Then he used it to tip the driver when they got to Harlem, tossing the bill at the man like he wanted the whole thing done with.

He wrapped an arm around Brianna again and said, “We’ll call it even.”

Tony lived in the same building as Tino’s brother, Nova Moretti, who was the Moretti Borgata’s current Capo Bastone. The underboss. Second man in charge of a crime family rumored to be one of the wealthiest drug cartels in the world.

That could change, since it was obvious Nova’s grandfather, the Don, wanted Nova dead. Like Brianna, Nova was still doing his job and pretending not to know what was about to go down.

There was another beautiful apartment downstairs since Romeo, Tino’s eldest brother, used to live in the building, too, but hadn’t been back to New York after he got married and settled in Kentucky.

Nova took over Romeo’s penthouse apartment a long time ago, and Chuito and Alaine, Tino’s friend from Kentucky and his new wife, had been staying in Nova’s old apartment with an identical layout one floor beneath it.

Thankfully, he’d never gotten rid of it. Brianna supposed that when someone had as much money as Nova Moretti, keeping an extra multi-million-dollar apartment was no big deal.

Now they were all set up, waiting for war together in the high-security building—a luxury high-rise in Harlem that Brianna found out Nova was a majority owner of.

Brianna had gotten to the point that she really didn’t want to know what Nova was worth, individually or collectively, within the Borgata. There was so much that it was likely impossible to fully grasp anyway.

They took the elevator to Nova’s penthouse apartment, even though Brianna would rather go back to Tony’s place and be alone.

That was the one nice thing about staying with Tony.

He was great at giving her space. He didn’t blare the television or rattle around his apartment like her best friend Carina would.

Tony didn’t need to talk or have company.

He was just quiet.

In that respect, he was very different than Tino.

Tino’s cover was the noise. The chaos. People didn’t see Tino for who he was because he had this fun, outgoing personality that covered all sorts of sins.

He told jokes. He danced. He made himself obvious wherever he went so no one would notice he was hiding out in the open. The jokes were Tino’s camouflage.

Tony was invisible instead.

He seemed to turn off when they were alone, and it was almost strange how effectively he did it.

He rarely talked, and never needed any sort of attention.

She had her own demons, and the two of them could go all night without saying a single word.

Anyone else and it would feel awkward, with Tony, there was zero expectation either way.

He made himself easy to dismiss, which was no small feat, considering how tall and powerfully built he was and, more so, how absolutely gorgeous. Yet Brianna had been watching him. Even Chuito and Alaine, who had been stuck with him almost as much as she had, didn’t seem to really see Tony.

Brianna saw him.

There were too many scars like Tino’s, ones she spent years trying to heal.

She failed miserably with most, but she couldn’t seem to stop seeing them, to stop trying, even if Tino was gone and Tony was stuck in his place as her mock-up best friend.

Maybe that’s why Tony tended to say the things he did to her.

She knew his past—Chuito and Alaine didn’t—and she wasn’t one to cringe away from his dark history.

It didn’t scare her like it did others, and he clearly enjoyed testing her about it.

They probably weren’t the best set of roommates for their misfit crew, but it was either Tony or Nova since Chuito and Alaine were newlyweds, and there were only three safe apartments in the building.

Choosing Tony was a no-brainer. No matter how much attitude he had when he wasn’t turned off, Tony was still light-years easier than Tino’s brother.

There was just way too much baggage with Nova.

Too much pain… for both of them.

The memories were still so vivid for Brianna. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Nova. The post-traumatic stress was enough to do either of them individually; combined, it was a potential disaster they couldn’t afford. They needed buffers from it and each other.

She was better off with Tony. He’d been in the first war but didn’t lose to it as intensely as Brianna and Nova.

Nova’s penthouse didn’t require a key. It had a code access. Tony typed the long code into the pad, and when he opened the door, a quick, sharp alarm blared inside.

“What happened?” Nova barked, appearing sweaty and shirtless at the door in only his karate pants, showing off his tattoos that were unique to a Sicilian gangster. He looked to Brianna, who was supposed to be on stage in an hour. “ Cazzo .”

Brianna used the excuse of closing the door to look away.

“Heat showed up at the theater.” Tony took off his sunglasses. “Her husband had an accident.”

“What sorta accident?” Nova’s voice was a rasp of fear. “Did they question you? Did they ask you about Tino?”

They were all honest questions since Brianna’s tie to the Moretti Borgata was well known. There were a dozen articles on the internet about it, most speculating that Brianna’s connections helped further her career. It used to make her mad, but lately, she was starting to wonder if they were true.

Brianna took off her sunglasses rather than answer Nova, stalling for time. She wiped under her eyes, knowing her stage makeup was probably a disaster.

“It was the jack her husband used on his car.” Tony clearly grew tired of waiting for Brianna. “He got a flat tire, and it gave out. Car came down on him.”

“A jack?” Chuito walked up, also sweaty and shirtless, wearing only MMA shorts and showing off his tattoos like Nova. The two of them had obviously been training to work off stress. “Is he dead?”

“Yes,” Brianna whispered. “They gave Tony a card for the coroner, and?—”

Nova held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

Tony pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to Nova.

That was one of the benefits of being in a Borgata.

Things like that were usually taken care of.

The mafia was very experienced at planning funerals, and the organization usually handled all those unpleasant details when someone in the Borgata lost a family member.

Nova was still the Capo Bastone and easily the one who would at least take the card and make sure things got done. They were all stuck in this game of pretending that none of them knew the organization likely wanted them dead.

The Moretti Borgata handling the funeral wasn’t unusual.

Brianna wiped at her eyes again. “I should notify his parents. His brother.”

“Carina’s an appropriate person to do that.

She’s your best friend, and you’re too distraught.

I’ll call her.” Nova looked at the card rather than meeting her gaze.

“But I don’t want her to come back for the funeral.

That’s just another target to worry about, and the complication of her with the Don?

It’s too much. The Don’s buying her fresh air story about Kentucky.

She’s flighty enough that an unexpected trip to Garnet makes sense, and the Don doesn’t know Tino’s not there.

It’s a double alibi. Let’s stick with it instead of tempting fate.

” Nova headed toward his bedroom, looking dazed, but then turned to stare at Brianna.

“I understand this is difficult for you for a lot of reasons. My condolences. I’m sorry. ”

“Thank you,” she said numbly as Nova walked away.

“The cops believed it was an accident?” Chuito asked once Nova was gone.

“Yeah.” Tony sounded shocked, too. “Said it was in a rural area. By the time they found him?—”

“Wow.” Chuito raised his eyebrows and looked to Brianna. “Am I supposed to say sorry too?”

Brianna shrugged. “You don’t have to.”

“Okay.” Chuito nodded. “I’m gonna go. Alaine’s studying for the bar, and I…” He pointed to the door behind Brianna. “I’m just gonna go.” He walked past them but then stopped and looked back at Tony. “Are you wearing makeup?”

“Yes.” Tony sounded unapologetic about it.

Chuito looked at him, as if waiting for more of an explanation, but Tony obviously had nothing else to say, so Chuito just frowned at him and said, “Whatever, bro.”

When he left, Tony looked at the closed door, raising his eyebrows with a snort of disbelief, making it obvious the death of Brianna’s husband was easy to forget for a seasoned enforcer.

“How gay is that MMA shit?” Tony asked her. “He’s wearing those shorts and worried about my eyeliner? For real?”

Brianna stared back at Tony, who was still looking too sexy to be human, with those dark eyes enhanced to make him seem even more beautiful. Again, it reminded her of Tino, with all that raw sexuality that came from such a dark place.

She sighed and whispered, “My life is so fucked up.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to say I’m sorry he’s dead,” Tony said in a cold, dispassionate voice that was common for him.

“Is that why you’re looking at me like that?

You want me to say sorry that the motherfucker who tried to kill you is dead?

You want me to say sorry that Tino squished him like a bug under his own car? ”

“Would you?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Brianna needed a break from Tony and his sharp edges, even if it was horribly warranted. “I’m staying up here for a little while.”

Turned out Nova was the better choice for the time being.

Tony let her because he was good at fading into the background and not forcing his opinions. Brianna found Nova in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed in his karate pants. The view of the city was breathtaking behind him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

He just stared at the television, watching the local news.

Waiting.

Nova surprised her by moving over and making room for Brianna to sit next to him. The setting was different, missing the musty smell from hiding in basements, but it still felt the same. No matter the backdrop, war was horrible, the waiting most of all.

It was just all too similar, eerily so.

“History has patterns. There’s always a pattern,” Nova whispered over the drone of the weather report that announced snow for Thanksgiving. “And I guess some things can’t be changed. Delayed, not prevented. He loves you too much.”

“Yeah, he does,” she agreed because her husband was lying cold and dead in a morgue because of it. “But a car jack? That’s not the same.”

“Nope,” Nova agreed, gaze still on the television.

“It’s not like there’s mafia carnage raining down on the city,” Brianna went on, desperate for a silver lining. “It was revenge, but it was sensible revenge.”

“I know.” Nova didn’t sound comforted by it. “But if Tino’s hiding from us and crushing motherfuckers under cars for touching you, can you imagine what would’ve happened if that cretino you married had actually killed you? It wouldn’t be the same as last time… It’d be worse.”