Page 181 of The Enforcer
Tino hadn’t met an enforcer yet who was inclined, from any Borgata. Enforcers were more the loyal, protect-the-family types who liked things simple like a name on a little piece of paper and a clear direction on what needed to be done. Plotting takeovers just seemed all kinds of hard, and digging shallow graves sorta killed ambition after a while, so it all worked, but Carlo couldn’t buy all of the hideouts when there were two of them now.
Not too long ago, Tino started getting his own, buying buildings and apartments that no one, not even Nova, knew about, and it wasn’t that hard. Tino didn’t technically own this building. This one belonged to Bobby.
Carlo used bums from his old neighborhood. They had identities. They had social security numbers and state IDs. So he paid them to use their credentials to buy the buildings or the cars or anything else he needed. He’d keep them for a while and then sell them. Did the bums give a shit? Nope. They just liked the cash Carlo handed them.
So Tino used Bobby, because a strung-out junkie didn’t care any more than a bum did.
Bobby owned a lot of buildings.
Cool, trendy walk-ups with too many goddamn stairs, and as far as Tino was concerned, Bobby could keep ’em. Tino would hand him the codes tomorrow. Not like he hadn’t tried before.
“This is such a great old building,” Brianna observed as they hit the landing for the sixth floor. “Does anyone live here? The parking lot was empty.”
“It’s still being remodeled,” Tino said as he stopped in front of the door to the penthouse. He fucked up the code for the door, because he was hard and frustrated, so desperate for a taste of Brianna his vision was hazy, but his emotions were all over the place. All the memories he’d churned up about Mary were still at the forefront of his mind, and his hands were shaking. Why couldn’t he just make all the codes the same? He fucked it up a second time. And a third. As he went over every code shoved in his brain, wishing for once that he was Nova, he mumbled, “Sorry. Too many codes. Same reason I keep the car keys hidden under the cars. I can’t carry handfuls of keys.” Then he got the right one on the fourth try, hearing the lock click open. He turned the doorknob. “Porca puttana, it’s a miracle.”
As soon as Brianna followed him in, Tino fisted her hair and kissed her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth when she gasped in surprise. He pushed her back against the door after he kicked it shut, loving the way she fit against him, a little taller than most women, stronger, smoother. He was shaking again with the memories that were fighting to push their way back, and he stopped kissing her to pull at the buttons to her jacket. She tossed her bag to the floor and shrugged out of the jacket, making it obvious he wasn’t the only one desperate.
Tino forced her shirt over her head, needing to do something with his hands. He wanted to get Mary out of his mind. He wanted to give back to Brianna what he’d taken from her and handed to so many other women, but it was more than that.
He just wanted—desperately—so much it consumed him.
“I need it mean,” he whispered against her neck as he licked and sucked, stopping short of marking her. This was supposed to be about Brianna, but for the first time, he was taking it how he wanted it, and he didn’t know why as he growled, “I need it hard.” He tossed her shirt aside and bent down to suck on her nipple through the black cotton of her sports bra, catching it with his teeth when it tightened. “I need it dirty.” He slid his hand beneath the lining of her sweatpants and grabbed her tight ass as he fell to his knees. “I need to taste it.” He jerked her pants down, taking her panties with them until she was forced to toe off her shoes and kick her clothes aside. Then he kissed the soft spot above the lips of her pussy, because she was so fucking smooth and clean, smelling sweet like strawberry soap instead of high-class perfume. “I need to lick it until you’re screaming.” He pulled on her hips, forcing her down. “I just need it, baby.”
“Then take it,” she whispered, even if the blush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. She fisted his hair when he sprawled out on the floor and pulled her over him. He licked at the seam of her pussy, finding her juicy and ripe. Tino spread her with his thumbs and looked at her before he sucked on her clit. Then she screamed just like he needed her to, slamming her hand against the tile when she fell forward and straddled his face as she panted, “It’s yours anyway. So take it. I’ll let you take it as dirty as you need it. Take all of it.” When Tino spread her wider and licked her faster, she let out a cry of pleasure. “God, Tino!”
He licked her until she was shaking over him, those little pants of pleasure turning into sharp, hard gasps of ecstasy when she came crying out his name just like he’d imagined a thousand times.
Brianna was still shaking as she undid her bra and tossed it aside. Then she fell back over him, sprawled out over his chest, her head resting on his stomach. She was doing that limber dancer thing she did, leaving her comfortable resting in positions a normal woman would find painful at best.
He leaned up on his elbow, staring at her spread over him, small, tight tits swaying to the rhythm of her quick breathing as she tried to catch her breath. Her red hair was vibrant against his black shirt, because he was still fully clothed. The guns were digging into his back, but he didn’t care as he studied her.
Then he saw what he’d missed before.
Stark against the pale white beneath her bikini line, right there to the left of her pussy, like a stamp of ownership, was a small tattoo done in black cursive.
Omertà.
He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it.
Maybe he just didn’t want to see it before now.
Maybe he wasn’t ready.
Now he ran his thumb over it, feeling that it was fresh, still healing, making it obvious this was the tattoo she’d gotten the other night before La Bomba.
She wasn’t the first one in the organization to get one.
They’d been showing up everywhere after Tino, Nova, and Carlo’s stand against the old-school administration two years ago. Now lots of young gangsters had them and not just Sicilians; it was more affiliates than anything. The street thugs Nova helped rather than treat like dirty drug dealers who existed to funnel money into the Borgata. The rescued victims of the underground sex market who sat in study groups to get their GEDs with the hope of succeeding at a real life, doubtful, but Nova didn’t care. It was like Nova played the same game Tino learned a long time ago, and all he wanted now was to get the pawns to the other side one at a time, even knowing most wouldn’t make it.
The Omertà tattoo wasn’t a mark of loyalty to the Morettis like most law enforcement assumed, though it was obviously a side effect.
It was an idea.
“It’s not dog food,” she whispered defensively when he touched it. “It means hope.”
“I know what it means, Brianna,” Tino snapped at her. “I’m the first one who got it.”
“It means there’s always a way,” she whispered as she sat up, ass on his chest, making the guns dig deeper into his back as she leaned down and stroked his hair while he lay beneath her. “It means that everyone has a chance.”
