“And you know that’s where I’m taking you? To his house.”
Tino paused at that. He was still half-stoned, but he knew that was a bad idea. “What’d you mean? His house? Like with his wife?”
“Yes, he was granted custody.”
“That fast?” Tino shouted. “Romeo’s been in jail a few hours and—”
“And look at how we found you?” she cut him off. “Your leg’s broken and—”
Tino made a choking sound of horror at the implication.
“No, it’s not your fault.” She pulled the car into a gas station and turned off the ignition. She looked at him seriously and reached over to put a hand on his thigh. “This was something out of your hands. I know you don’t understand, but you need to be with your father.”
Tino scowled at her and then glanced at her hand on his thigh. He didn’t trust anyone singing his father’s praises. Everyone in New York knew Frankie Moretti was trouble. “You’re about to enter bad-touch territory, lady.”
She jerked her hand back, looking shocked for one long moment; then she laughed. “Cute, Tino.”
“Mmm.” He hummed as he sat back and continued to look straight ahead before he asked for the hundredth time since last night, “Where’s Nova?”
“He was taken to your father’s last night.”
The haze of morphine was fading a little too fast, and panic was quickly catching up. He was starting to realize the doctors might have given him those drugs in the hospital on purpose to calm him down when he freaked over being separated from Nova. Sometimes his mouth was ahead of his brain, and he might have told everyone exactly what he thought if they hadn’t chemically chilled him out. He didn’t want to go to his father’s, but he really wanted to see Nova.
“And that’s where you’re taking me? Right now?”
“Yes, it is.” She didn’t seem quite so friendly now. “I’m your friend, Tino. I’m your advocate too.”
“Bullshit.” He snorted. “You’re doing this for the bank. Did you help set Romeo up to get arrested too?”
She was silent for a long time before she whispered, “I suggest you learn to be friends, because you’re stuck with me. I can make your life very easy, or very difficult.”
“My father is a mafia drug lord, and he’s been trying to break my family up since my ma died. If you’re taking me to his house, you’re already making my life very difficult.” Tino knew it with certainty. “So suck it, Miss Laura.”
“I guess the morphine wore off,” she snapped.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Tino sat there, his arms crossed defensively the entire ride to Brooklyn. He’d never been to his father’s house. Never once thought he’d be invited, because being one of his father’s dirty secrets meant the only time Tino saw him was during awkward visits where they stayed firmly in Harlem. Everyone there knew not to narc on Frankie Moretti for taking his bastard sons for ice cream.
Since Tino’s ma died, they hadn’t seen him at all.
They lived with their brother Romeo instead—his ma’s other son from her first bad affair. Which worked for everyone, or so they all thought.
There was one very tiny catch in all their lives.
Nova’s brain.
Frankie felt like since he’d contributed to making it, he ought to have it at his disposal, and Romeo wasn’t playing. He’d been defying Frankie at every turn, and Tino thought it was working. They were so close to getting out of the hood. Nova took the money Romeo made stripping, and he’d been investing it.
Yeah, his brother was a male stripper.
If chicks wanted to pay to see Romeo dance, Tino didn’t see the big fucking deal. He even told his math teacher when she asked why Romeo was working nights. She’d been so shocked. So horrified.
It was less than a week before Tino heard Romeo tell their cousin Angelo that he saw her at the club. Romeo was shaken up about it. Tino almost told him that she went there knowing he was dancing.
Except Romeo would’ve kicked his ass for saying something to begin with.
They’d been living on eggshells for the past year, and what did it get them?
A one-way ticket to Brooklyn.
And what the hell was gonna happen to Romeo?
His brother was in jail for attempted murder. That was major. It was the first time Tino let himself really think about it, that Romeo was sitting in a cell somewhere right now.
Fuck.
They were so close to getting away, but now what?
Tino had never been to Dyker Heights.
He’d been taught to stay as far away from Brooklyn as possible. Which had mostly been fine; Tino was a Manhattan guy all the way, and no one in his family had any use for Brooklyn. First it was his mother looking over her shoulder, paranoid as hell she’d run into the wife.
Or someone who knew the wife.
Or someone who knew Frankie, who didn’t want her anywhere near Brooklyn.
Because of the wife.
After Ma died, Romeo avoided Brooklyn like the fucking plague.
He didn’t want to run into Frankie.
Or the wife.