Sign Tino up for more of that.
It wasn’t until he heard Rosie screaming from the other bedroom that Tino understood what a false sense of well-being really meant. By the time he ran out there, it was too late. Her husband already had a gun shoved in her mouth.
Tino’s breath caught.
For all the crew work, he’d never killed anyone.
And he’d never seen anyone killed until that motherfucker pulled the trigger and killed his wife.
Just like that.
Blood and brains all over the white carpet.
Rosie was never making another cup of coffee for a man in the shower.
She wasn’t perfect, but she certainly didn’t deserve that.
There was something about how quick it was that stunned Tino silent. He remembered how difficult it was for him to die in the basement. How fucking hard he tried and how Nova forced him back after all that work.
Tino didn’t see the other guys with Lorenzo Campelli. Tino just looked at Lorenzo’s wife instead, sprawled out on the carpet, dead for fucking a whore when she was supposed to be loyal to this motherfucker instead.
No wonder Mary made so much off Tino.
This system sucked, and it was especially cruel to women.
All any of them wanted was a little kindness, even if it was paid for.
“Get on your knees, motherfucker.” Lorenzo pointed his gun at Tino’s chest and then seemed to think better of it and pointed lower, since Tino was still naked.
Tino dropped to his knees, because his gun was downstairs thanks to the false sense of well-being from the oxys. He kept staring at Rosie, wondering if that was going to be him in the next thirty seconds.
The thing was, Tino wasn’t that pissed off about it.
He could think of a lot of worse ways to go.
He could run. He could maybe even fight them, but he didn’t, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the three oxys he ate before he got here that left him just not giving a shit about survival.
“That’s Nova Moretti’s brother. I recognize him,” one of the other guys cut in, sounding very nervous. “You can’t kill this kid, Lorenzo.”
“He fucked my wife. I can kill him if I want.” Lorenzo Campelli’s hand was shaking. “I’m sick of these fucking Morettis getting everything. I can kill this little shit. I’m a made man. No one touches what’s mine.”
“Just take it to the commission. They’ll probably agree with you.” His friend’s voice shook as badly as Lorenzo’s hand. “But you gotta take it to the fucking commission. You’ll start a war if you don’t.”
Lorenzo shook his head. “They’ll give him a pass. That brainiac Nova makes them nervous.”
“You gotta take it to the commission,” one of the other guys agreed. “Fucking footage was too grainy. We didn’t know it was a Moretti fucking her.”
Lorenzo shrugged. “Fine.”
But then he fired without warning, and pain exploded in Tino’s thigh. He shouted from the impact of it. His mind hazed white for several long seconds. Then he found himself naked and flat on his back, pressing his hand against the gushing wound in his thigh.
Tino bit his tongue hard, because he’d stopped giving sadistic motherfuckers the satisfaction of hurting him a long time ago. Thanks to his father, he was able to just glare up at them when he found himself surrounded by a bunch of thugs from the Savio Borgata.
“We can wait a few weeks to tell the commission,” Lorenzo said darkly. “I don’t recognize this kid. Do you recognize him?”
Lorenzo was one of the Savios’ top capos. He got the spot thanks to his mother, and Tino knew it because Rosie talked about it sometimes, even though Tino had zero interest in the Savios’ hierarchy. Nephew to their don, Lorenzo was one of those entitled suburban gangsters Nova hated. He had power without bleeding for it, but that didn’t make the Savios unique.
Lorenzo glared at the other guys in his crew, daring them to acknowledge Tino.
“Nah, we don’t know him,” one decided, and the others all seemed to grunt in agreement like good button men were supposed to do. “Never seen him in my life.”
Tino closed his eyes, knowing right then he wasn’t going to end up with his brains blown out on the carpet like Rosie. It was never that fucking easy.
Never.
“Why do I need to know this shit?” Carina sounded frustrated and whiny. “Who gives a fuck when the Alamo happened?”
“I give a fuck,” Brianna said as she looked up from her book. “If we forget history, we repeat it.”
Carina gave her an annoyed look. “Geek.”
“Probably.” Brianna sighed and went back to taking notes for their test tomorrow. “I wonder if Tino’s studied.”
“Yeah, right,” Carina said dismissively. “He’s failing this class almost as badly as I am. I doubt that’s changed in a week.”