Everything in Tino tightened when he heard his father’s voice. Nova let out a low grunt of terror. His entire body was shaking as he reached behind him, grabbed Tino’s hand, and squeezed it tightly.
“Carina, go,” the stranger said. “Go wait for your nonno outside.”
“But—” Carina started in complaint.
“Go,” the stranger urged again. “Make sure the don can find us, okay?”
“Fine,” Carina huffed.
When her footsteps echoed down the stairs, the man asked, “Are they Isabella’s boys? Did you take them away from their brother?”
Frankie let out a dark, bitter laugh. “What? You’re taking it fucking personal? They came from my balls. I made them. I can end them. This one doesn’t have any fucking respect. He respects me now.”
“I take it personal.” The voice was suddenly icy cold, terrifying and dangerous as if this man hadn’t heard anything else. “I want you to get the fuck out. Get out, Frankie! Get the fuck out!” Tino heard the click of a gun. “GET OUT!”
“This isn’t your business,” Frankie said as if immune to the threat.
“Iwillshoot you, motherfucker.”
“Who do you think you’re talking to? You can’t fucking ice me,” Frankie growled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I think I’m the motherfucker who’ll shoot you and eat a bullet before the old man gets here. He can find both of us. We’ll die together. I’m ready. Are you?”
“Oobatz, Carlo. You’ve always been fucking crazy,” Frankie snapped, but there was a quiver of fear in his voice. “You wanna have abastardiconvention with these two, go crazy, but just remember, the older one’smine, and I’m telling Pop about this.”
“Tell your pop,” Carlo urged him. “Go fucking cry to the don. He’s the one who sent me here. These are kids. They’reyourkids. You better hope this one doesn’t fucking die, ’cause I take it personal,strunzu,” he reiterated. “I take it personal as fuck!”
There was a silence after Frankie stormed back down the stairs.
Then Carlo said, “Listen, Nova. You gotta let me help you.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Nova barked at him. “Why the fuck do you care? This is a trick. A test.”
“I work for the don. He sent me to help.” Carlo’s voice was still shaking. “Look, me and you, we’re the same. You think I grew up in Dyker Heights? Fuck, no. I’m fromWashington Heights, okay? Big friggin’ difference.”
“Are you Frankie’s brother?” Nova asked cautiously. “You’re—”
“The don’s dirty secret? Yeah. Then Frankie’s mother kicked it, and suddenly it’s not so dirty. Not like the don and Frankie are the only wiseguys with a dirty secret or two, capisce?” Carlo let out a bitter snort. “You gonna let me help your brother or what?”
“Are you gonna take him to the hospital? He needs blood. He’s lost a lotta blood, and—”
“How long’s he been like this?”
“Since last night.”
“Jesus,” Carlo whispered when Nova moved to the side. “Oh my God, the fuck.” He cupped Tino’s cheek, his hand warm against Tino’s skin. “This blows, pal. What’s your name? Tino? Right? Valentino.”
Tino gave a slight nod as he blinked and looked up at this man, who wasn’t just his uncle, but was also another dirty secret of the mafia. He was bizarrely good-looking. Like a movie star or one of those guys on the billboards in Times Square. Thickly muscular, with inky-black hair and strangely light eyes, Carlo reminded Tino of a dark angel.
Then again, it could just be the drugs that made him feel like Nova handed him over to the angel of death. Tino was stoned almost numb, or at least he thought he was.
“I’m sorry. This is gonna suck for you.”
Carlo picked Tino up before he could agree.
The pain was so violent it stole Tino’s breath. He tried to push away from the hands on his back, but this motherfucker was built like an ox.
Carlo Moretti wasn’t a dark angel.
