“You’re bleeding. Has someone attacked you?” The social worker took another cautious step toward him, before glancing back to the police who came up behind her, hands on their guns.
Nova watched Jorgie and Paco make their way quietly back to their apartments. Then he stared down at Tino’s leg again and took a deep breath, as if searching for an explanation.
“I was trying to get Tino to play chess,” Nova started. “He’s, uh, he’s ADHD. The counselor at school told my brother Romeo that Tino’s supposed to be working on focusing his attention in a positive manner and—”
“Then why are you bleeding?” one of the cops asked.
Nova winced, glancing at Tino hesitantly, and rightfully so, because he knew Tino was pissed as hell. Nova had the world’s biggest brain, and the only thing he could come up with was My brother’s ADHD, so it’s his fault.
It didn’t matter that in this case, it was Tino’s fault.
And the ADHD probably didn’t help.
Nova was supposed to have his back.
“He wanted to go out and play basketball. But it’s midnight, so I chased him. When he jumped, I fell trying to catch him.”
Tino felt his face heat, and he glared at Nova. “I hate you.”
“He jumped?” the social worker asked in horror.
At the same time Nova whispered to Tino in Italian, “I’m sorry.”
“Where did he jump from?” one of the cops ask.
Nova looked to the first-story landing. All the adults on the street glanced up, their mouths hanging open in shock. It was a pretty impressive jump. Tino was sure he looked badass doing it. Now he wished someone had taken a video of it.
He wouldn’t mind seeing a replay.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” Tino looked back to the social worker, who still seemed completely horrified. “Sure, I guess.”
“No,” Nova cut in. “He’s not okay.” He raised his eyebrows at Tino. “You’re not okay.”
“Oh, right.” Tino looked back to his foot. Jesus, his ADHD was hanging out all over the place, but he was stressed the hell out. He felt like his brain had fractured and gone in a million different places. It was the social worker’s fault, and he couldn’t help but snap at her, “Why are you here?”
“Your brother Romeo had an issue,” the social worker said as she walked up to Tino and tilted her head to study him. “Are you hurt?”
“What sort of issue?” Nova asked. “Where is he?”
“Let’s focus on this brother,” the social worker said in a soothing voice. “We’re here to help you now.”
“Where is he? Where’s Romeo?” Nova asked again, the sharp edge of panic in his voice. “We’ll go with you without arguing, but you have to tell us where he is.”
She gave Nova a wince. “He got arrested.”
“Arrested?” Tino repeated, seeing white spots form in his vision from the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of his heartbeat thundering. “There’s no way. Romeo would never—” Everyone in their neighborhood called Romeo Mr. Perfect, because he was the one who never broke a rule. “No. That’s not—” Tino was pissed off at Nova, but he turned to him desperately. “Tell them.”
“What was he arrested for?” Nova asked them.
“He was arrested for attempted murder. He attacked a police officer. The officer’s in critical condition.” The social worker whispered it like it was taboo she was even telling them. “Your brother’s probably not coming home for a long time, but we’re going to help you. We’re going to put you in a better place. A safer place. I promise.”
The fear and pain were so all-encompassing they were making Tino dizzy, but it was Nova who sat right there on the street, his head between his knees like he might puke.
Which Nova did, three minutes later, all over the social worker’s shoes, while the cops radioed for an ambulance for Tino, ’cause apparently there was absolutely nothing okay about having two ankles.
It was that night Tino learned the first really important rule of survival in Cosa Nostra, and it never stopped being applicable.
If Nova Moretti’s puking his guts up…everyone’s fucked.
Chapter Nine
Tino wasn’t really sure how many hours he was in the hospital.
He was highly fucked-up the whole time. They pumped something in his IV that made the world in general seem like a better place.
By the time he got out, enjoying the novelty of crutches and a black cast, the sun was shining bright. The social worker, who Tino learned was supposed to be called Miss Laura, picked up his prescription after the two of them left the hospital in her white, government-issued car.
Tino studied the bottle when she handed it to him. “This is a lotta pills.”
She offered him a grin. “I made sure you got the right doctor in the emergency room. He’s a friend of your father’s like I am.”
“My father’s a popular guy,” Tino observed with a roll of his eyes. “Never showed up to give a shit until my ma was dying, but glad all of yous think he’s so awesome. You know he never gave my ma a dollar. Just saying.”
“He cares about you. He sent me to make sure you were treated right,” she said softy.
Tino shook the bottle. “I guess.”