Page 151 of The Enforcer
Carlo dropped his head to his knees and whispered, “Take the bullet, Tino. Don’t let them turn you into this. Nova doesn’t get it. He’s all fucking charts and graphs, but I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m telling you the bullet’s easier.” A broken sob came from the center of Carlo’s chest as he spoke in that unique mix of Sicilian and Italian he used. “You don’t wanna be sitting here. I don’t want you to be sitting here either. Jesus, I may take the bullet too. I don’t think I can survive this one. We’ll let Nova bury both of us. I’ll be the one to fucking eat it; that way he doesn’t have to look me in the face again.”
Tino just watched Carlo fall apart for a long time, but eventually he had to say, “Gimme water, stronzo.”
“Right, sorry.” Carlo jumped up and wiped his face. He found the cup they’d used earlier to give Tino the aspirin and went to the sink next to the washer. Then he helped Tino sit up and held the cup to his lips. He caressed Tino’s hair while Tino drank. “You’re burning up.”
“They gave me an aspirin,” Tino choked out, even as his stomach lurched.
“An aspirin? For a gunshot wound?” Carlo said incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with the Savios?”
“You got anything?” Even if Tino kept his oxy habit private, he did have a fucking bullet hole in his leg. “Like some pills or something?”
Carlo caressed his hair again and then sat next to him and reached into his back pocket. When Tino saw the small amber-colored glass vial Carlo pulled out, he said, “Fuck, no. If you don’t have oxys, forget it.”
“If you like oxys, you’ll like blow,” Carlo assured him and opened it. “What the fuck do you care?”
Tino snorted the blow, ’cause Carlo had a very good point.
The don always said people liked the drugs that were worst for them.
Like Nova, who was all about the pussy and downed ecstasy like candy, which made an arguably bad problem a whole lot worse.
Or Carina, who was already in the clouds, loving weed as much as she did.
Tino always thought cocaine would affect him like it did Nova, leaving him paranoid as fuck and unblinking for days. Cocaine had never been on his radar. Just what Tino fucking needed, something to make him more hyper.
He coughed on the chalky aspirin taste when it hit the back of his throat.
Instead of paranoia, the high hit him like the best kind of summer day, making everything feel a little bit brighter much faster than pills or weed would. All the stresses that haunted him faded to the background. It was like eating a fistful of oxys without the fogginess. Instead he felt strong, powerful with that false sense of well-being narcotics were known for. His shoulder didn’t hurt as bad, and his leg was still an issue, but it was a whole lot better than before the blow.
Most of all, he was overcome with this deep and profound love for Carlo.
As fucked up as it was, Tino appreciated that he was willing to show up and do the dirty work. Carlo loved Tino enough to make sure he didn’t die like Rosie, messy and degrading and likely rotting in a minefield, never to be found, and never to be buried by her family.
Enforcers were the most underappreciated members of the Cosa Nostra. They didn’t just protect the family, they took care of them in a way few could. It was the shittiest of shitty jobs, but Tino still agreed to do it.
Nova thought it was because Tino knew his brother would turn into their father if he didn’t agree.
And Carina thought it was for revenge on the northern motherfuckers who’d tried to get the better of them.
Carlo thought it was because of the blow, and maybe it was, because Tino ended up agreeing to be an enforcer so his zio wouldn’t have to shoot him in the chest and eat a bullet rather than face his only friend after doing it.
That was Tino’s weakness.
His deep loyalty to his family, and it fucked him every time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
They told Tino later that he’d walked out of the Savios’ basement.
God bless cocaine, ’cause he had no idea how he’d managed that with a bullet in his thigh, and as usual, he didn’t remember it.
He was like the anti-Nova.
Alwaysforgetting shit.
But whatever. They said he’d walked out like a fucking boss in front of all those commission assholes from the other families and then passed out in the limo. Carlo claimed it was lucky they were alone when Tino went down, because Nova freaked the fuck out, and Tino was inclined to believe him because the first memory he did have was back in the don’s basement.
Tubes running in him.
