Page 100 of The Enforcer's Revenge
They were both just so fucking wrecked.
It was Tino who grabbed his face and brought Tony’s lips to his.
He was a motherfucker, using the bomb of Lola’s death like that, but it worked. They made certain that the pictures for the FBI’s wall were really interesting. The two of them kissed on that Brooklyn back street like the world was ending.
Then, Tony suddenly pulled Tino tighter against him, hugging him protectively, and barked, “What the fuck are you looking at?”
The world slowed like it always did right before Tino’s life came close to ending.
“N-Nothing,” a man said behind them, sounding stunned, almost speechless.
“Then you can keep walking,” Tony suggested, like he wasn’t dead certain he was growling at federal agents. “Unless watching gets you off. What are you? Homophobes or just perverts?”
Porca puttana, the balls on Tony.
But the agents started walking past them.
Tino barely breathed; all he could do was listen to the sound of their shoes against the pavement. He could actually hear the click of them, even under the buzz of city noise. He thought heheard the van drive past, too, but he couldn’t be certain ’cause he didn’t dare look and fall out of character.
He let Tony lead, and he felt pretty damn confident about it. Tony led this particular dance better than just about anyone.
He was the best for a reason.
It felt like a thousand years before Tony grabbed Tino’s face and looked down at him with a sad smile. “I got you.”
Tino gave him a genuine, strong-armed hug, the kind he reserved for Romeo, Nova, and Carlo. “Grazie, brother, ’cause you matter. You matter like a motherfucker right now.”
Tony actually let out a broken laugh and gestured up the street. “Let’s go.”
Tony’s placewas an old-school Brooklyn brownstone, easily a hundred years old, and renovated to look original instead of trendy. The second Tino walked into the apartment on the top floor, he knew Maria wasn’t just hanging out for the weekend.
Everything about it was soft but in an earnest, comforting way that made Tino rock hard. The windows were open, letting the summer breeze blow in. There were flowers on the windowsill, and they perfumed the air that was still humid from all the rain.
Tino wanted to fucking die here.
That was how beautiful it was.
It wasn’t a huge place, maybe two bedrooms, but the white furniture against the turn-of-the-century parquet wood floors made it look open and airy. Tino remodeled brownstones on a regular basis, and this was next-level shit simply because it all felt so natural. Safe. Feminine.
He didn’t have to ask who decorated it.
Only a true Lost Girl could do something like this.
“Madonn’,” he whispered in awe, temporarily forgetting his laundry list of problems.
“Sexy, right?” Tony agreed, like he got it completely. “It even smells top shelf, like the setting for an Italian film. Expensive perfume, coconut oil, dark roast coffee, and sometimes garlic.”
Tino turned to look at Tony in sympathy. “What do you do for the Savios?”
Tony winced. “Mostly this.”
Maria walked in from the bedroom, wearing a black silk robe. She was summer tan, her skin glowing like she had just come in from lying out on the roof. Her honey-brown hair hung down her back in soft curls, and like the apartment, she looked very bright and beautiful in the afternoon sun.
“Look at who the cat dragged in. Hey, stranger.” Maria carried the scent of sunscreen when she hugged Tino, holding him close. She pressed a kiss against the curve of his neck and sniffed. “You smell, and it’s not a compliment.”
“I’ve been sweating a little.” Tino kissed her cheek. “I like your siren’s cave. Legit. It makes me wanna hand you my money clip.”
“Yeah?” She gave him a wide, pleased smile, her brown eyes sparkling. “I went less glitter, more soft filter. Vulnerable but classy. I’m looking for old-school New York. Someone a little more mature, like Cary Grant or early nineties De Niro.”
