She gave Nova a wince. “He got arrested.”
“Arrested?” Tino repeated, seeing white spots form in his vision from thewhoosh, whoosh, whooshof 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.”
“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?”
