“Nah.” The stairs shook again, as if Frankie was lumbering down them. “This one’s useless, but it’d be really traumatizing to watch your brother get shot right in front of you, wouldn’t it, sweetheart?”
Carina’s and Nova’s screams blended together. Tino wasn’t even sure which of them Frankie was talking to, and maybe it didn’t matter. Tino still wasn’t breathing. His heartbeat got louder in his ears the more the world started to fade out, and he wondered how long it would take them to notice he’d died.
Without the fucking bullet.
* * * *
“You better nip this shit in the fucking ass, Frankie. He downed you like you were his bitch. He doesn’t respect you.”
“No, he doesn’t, but that’s okay. He can fear me instead.”
Tino blinked, feeling like all the blood in his body had run to his head. It wasn’t until he blinked a few more times that he realized the lights were dim, and that was why he was having a hard time focusing.
“Drop him right there.”
If Tino had stayed passed out for a few more seconds, he wouldn’t have tensed before whoever was carrying him over their shoulder dropped him on the cold cement floor, and it might not have hurt so fucking much.
Tino shouted when he landed wrong on his already broken leg. His neck still hurt like a motherfucker. Really, all of him hurt, and he rolled over, struggling to keep breathing. His eyes stung, and he blinked again, fighting tears because he was fucking terrified.
Tino knew something horrific was about to happen.
And he was fairly certain it was going to happen to him.
’Cause, as his father pointed out, he was pretty much useless.
Strangely, he saw Nova first, maybe because someone was forcing him to his knees, and it made him more eye level. Nova’s nose was bleeding. His shirt was torn. His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling in sharp, hard breaths.
The fear off him was potent, maybe even more than Tino’s. He thought it was because Frankie had a gun against the back of Nova’s skull. Maybe Nova picked up some self-preservation while Tino had been out, but then Tino noticed the guns on him too.
He rolled onto his back, looking up at the three guys who all had their guns level at his chest. Which, really, was probably overkill. His heartbeat was thundering again, so deafening he might not have noticed Carina’s screams from somewhere far away, if one of the men with a gun on him didn’t say, “Damn, Frankie, she’s got some lungs.”
“She gets it from her friggin’ mother. You ever hear Mary scream? Jesus.”
“Look, man, I’ll give it to you. Your balls make some tough kids. Ain’t got an ounce of respect, any of ’em, but they’re tough.”
“You think you’re tough?” Frankie jammed his gun against the back of Nova’s head. “Huh, smart-ass? You feel tough now?”
Nova didn’t say anything. He just lifted his gaze to Tino, the dim lighting in the basement reflecting the tears and fury.
“Let’s test how tough you are.” Frankie looked worse than Nova. His face was swollen and bruised. He was tilting his head like his neck was bothering him, but he didn’t let on that he was suffering as he pushed his gun against the back of Nova’s head again. “Take your shirt off, tough guy.” Nova didn’t even flinch. Didn’t hesitate. He just pulled his shirt off, and when he went to toss it aside, Frankie caught his arm. “Eat it.”
Nova turned to look at him. “What?”
“Shove it in your mouth,” Frankie said slowly. “Don’t you think we’ve traumatized your sister enough for one day?”
Tino jerked on instinct, making a move to get up, because he understood more than he wanted to. They didn’t want Nova’s screaming to upset Carina.
“It’s okay.” Nova shook his head quickly at Tino, his eyes wide and pleading to shut up. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
Nova said it like a chant, as if he was willing it, because Nova didn’t do well with situations he couldn’t fix.
He tended to freak the fuck out.
“It’snotokay, sweetheart,” Frankie assured him as he wrapped a big, meaty hand around the back of Nova’s neck. “You wanna know what happened to the last person who ate a shirt for me?” He gestured toward Tino. “See those black marks on the floor. Couldn’t get ’em up. Motherfucker didn’t respect me either. Trust me, chief, he was respecting the hell outta me when we took a blowtorch to him.”
Tino rolled over and looked at the floor, seeing there wasn’t just one black mark.
There were hundreds.
