Page 42 of The Enforcer’s Revenge (Untamed Hearts #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

T ino made a split-second decision to ditch the boots.

After leaving Nova behind, it wasn’t that hard.

Turning the other way when his brother was having a bullet pulled out of his chest was the hardest thing Tino had ever done in his entire fucking life.

He also knew Nova would never forgive him if he didn’t try to find Carlo before their zio did something stupid and life-altering. Brianna would’ve likely tried to talk him out of it when she returned, and he didn’t have time to waste if Carlo had been gone that long.

He grabbed his clothes from Nova’s room and a regular pair of boots that he put on once he got out, tugging them on one at a time, hopping on one foot and then the other all the way around the outside of the house.

Going through the basement wasn’t an option, but he needed to get to the garages where he left Nova’s car.

Luckily, the garages were empty since everyone was caught up with taking care of Nova.

The one great loss. He was markedly short on weapons.

All he had was the 9mm Beretta he left in the car with the shoulder holster he’d taken off in the rush to get Nova home.

That was it, in the middle of a war, which left him feeling decidedly naked, but he didn’t want to waste any more time driving to another house.

There was too much other shit to do.

Tino still had to get rid of the bodies in the trunk and dump Nova’s car. The Don probably wouldn’t be too pleased with Tino for the rotting corpses in the garages if he didn’t. Tino had known the moment they decided to drive back to New York that he was going to be doing this tonight.

Sammy, the bodyguard, and Desi, his lackey, ended up as residue in a vat of chemicals.

Nova’s beloved Bentley found its final resting place torched to a shell of its former self and shoved off a Jersey bank into the Hudson.

That shit took Tino all fucking night, but it had to be done.

Doing it by himself made everything a thousand times more difficult.

Moving bodies and cars without a backup driver was a nightmare.

He walked miles and miles. He had no idea how Carlo had managed it all those years before he partnered with Tino.

The adrenaline got him to the first streaks of sunrise, casting their glow over the dark sky, but then Tino started wavering. His head was throbbing from being coldcocked by Nova in primal Siciliano mode.

It really was a miracle Tino wasn’t dead.

The fear for both Nova and Carlo made Tino’s chest tight.

By the time he got back to the safe house in the New Jersey Palisades, he started to feel like he couldn’t breathe from the terror.

It just grabbed him all of a sudden. He needed blow and its false sense of well-being—quickly—or he was going to shut down.

Tino stumbled when he stepped inside. He blindly reached for the light switch and made his way into the partially furnished house.

This one wasn’t his. It was Carlo’s, so Tino spent another forty-five minutes trying to find where Carlo stashed his blow.

He gave up and spread out on the tile in the kitchen after searching in the vent under the fridge. He only planned on closing his eyes for a minute, just enough to get the energy to start searching the bedrooms.

The sun was blaring when Tino woke up. A ray found him through the kitchen window, warm on his face, and he rolled over to hide from it. His hand hit the open grate from the bottom of the fridge, and everything flooded him all at once.

He sat up and pulled out his phone, seeing that it was past three in the afternoon. He’d missed six phone calls but didn’t hear any of them.

He slept the entire fucking day away.

And just to mock him, Tino spotted the glint of glass in the front corner beneath the fridge. He leaned over and picked it up, staring at the amber vial in his hand.

Blow.

Found ten hours too late.

Tino snorted it anyway and caught up on his texts while he let the cocaine wake him up a lot faster than coffee would have.

He dropped Romeo a quick line since most of the calls had been from him.

Tino let him know they were alive, hoping he was telling the truth, and told him they’d likely be gone for another day.

Romeo knew Tino and Nova were caught up with the Lola funeral drama, plus a war, and he didn’t like to ask for details.

More importantly, Tino reached out to Brianna, desperate for news.

Tino: How’s Nova?

Brianna: Where are you???

Tino: Please tell me how my brother is!

Brianna: He’s okay. Moretti magic strikes again. Help here can’t believe it.

Tino let out a shuddering sigh of relief, knowing the help she was talking about were the doctors because Brianna knew how to text in code better than anyone.

If Dr. Acciai told them Nova was going to be okay, Tino believed it.

He said a quick, genuine prayer, thanking whoever it was in the universe watching out for his brother, even if Nova was more pirate than Lost Boy these days.

Then Tino said another one for his zio, hoping to God the Moretti magic didn’t choose now to run out.

He was still praying when his phone went off again.

Brianna: He’s very relaxed. We’re keeping him chill so he doesn’t freak when he finds out his crew went partying without him! Where are you?

Tino: Where’s Carmen?

Brianna: With Nova. He asks less questions when she’s around. Not going to last forever.

Tino: Keep him off my back as long as you can. Love ya, baby. I’ll check in again soon.

Tino turned off his phone and put it in his pocket before he could see her response, knowing he would probably change his mind if he did.

He snorted more blow, letting the full effect hit him because he’d lost a day he couldn’t afford. He shoved the last of the cocaine in his pocket next to his phone rather than leave it and was out the door and on his Ducati in less than a minute.

He didn’t see the next series of texts from Brianna for a long time, but he spent a lot of time later wishing he had.

Brianna: Have you been watching the news?

Brianna: Do you even know why we have to keep him drunk?

Brianna: Tino!!!

Brianna: Hello??

“Shit!” Brianna cursed and tossed her phone on the bed. “He’s gone.”

“Did you tell him to watch the news?” Carina’s voice sounded broken and distant, like a shell of who she was before Lola died.

“Yeah.” Brianna looked back to the twenty-four-hour news channel casting shadows over the darkened room in the basement. “I’m worried he won’t check back now that he knows Nova’s okay.”

“ Okay isn’t the word I’d pick.” Carina glanced away from the television to look past the partially open door since they could see Nova’s bed and hear the steady beeping from the machines connected to him.

Nova was sleeping bare-chested. An IV was connected to his left arm, and a large, white square of gauze was taped to his chest to hide the hole they stitched up after pulling the bullet out of him.

Carmen sat next to Nova, reading a book quietly to herself.

She wore a pair of the Don’s reading glasses, which he loaned her, saying twenty-one was too young to be far-sighted, but how could he say no?

The poor woman hadn’t slept since she got there.

It was apparent she was in shock and exhausted.

Even Dr. Acciai offered her something, but she refused and didn’t once complain about sitting there as a distraction for Nova.

Brianna knew Carina was right, so she started watching the weather report on the twenty-four-hour local news station instead of thinking about it. They were repeating the same stories, and she wasn’t sure why the two of them kept staring at it—but they did.

From the other room, she heard a groggy, “Ciao,” from Nova.

“Hi,” Carmen answered, and Brianna looked to see Carmen smile at Nova and close her book. “How are you?”

“ Sto bene. ” Nova reached up as though he wanted to scratch his bare chest, but Carmen caught his hand.

He frowned and lifted his head, staring at the white gauze taped to his smooth, tanned skin, and then glanced around the room.

“Where are my brothers?” His scowl deepened, like he was trying to put the pieces together. “Where’s Carlo?”

It was usually the first thing Nova asked when he noticed the injury. If it was the gunshot itself that reminded Nova of them or if he just assumed his brothers and zio would be there if he were hurt, Brianna wasn’t sure—but he did it every time.

Carmen kept ahold of his hand as she set her book aside. Then she leaned over to brush the dark, sweaty hair off his forehead. Nova’s gaze dropped to the low-cut V neck of the t-shirt Carmen borrowed because, like Carina, she was built to fill it out very well.

“Bella,” he mumbled and then glanced back up to her face. A deep frown creased his forehead. “ Gli occhiali? ”

Brianna looked to Carina, who leaned in and whispered, “He’s asking about her glasses.”

It made sense because the Don had just handed them to her before he headed back upstairs. Nova hadn’t seen them yet.

Carmen let out a mirthless laugh and answered Nova in Italian, “ Gli occhiali non mettono soldi nelle tasche della Borgata. ”

Whatever she said must’ve angered him because Nova seemed to growl his response, “ Vorrei poterlo uccidere di nuovo .”

Carmen placed her fingers on Nova’s lips, silencing him before he could say more.

Brianna looked to Carina, but Carina was silent rather than answer her unspoken question. So, Brianna held up her hands expectantly, giving her a look.

It must’ve communicated because Carina leaned in and whispered, “She said, ‘Glasses don’t put money in the Borgata’s pockets.’”

Brianna felt her stomach knot. “And what’d he say?”

“He said, ‘I wish I could kill him again.’”