Page 111 of The Enforcer's Revenge
Carmen called the medical examiner and gave them the number to the funeral home. Nova had already called the funeral home and told them to handle it before going back into the bathroom and closing the door this time.
Once she was done, Carmen immediately started sorting through Nova’s things, looking much more comfortable with this task than with the phone call.
“No.” Carmen dropped a royal blue men’s dress shirt into a large pile of discarded clothes on the bed. “Definitely no.” A blue and white striped one was tossed aside without a second look. The next was deep purple, and she held it up for a second before it was abandoned. “No.” She kept setting aside designer shirts, one after another, before finally lifting her head and looking at Brianna. “None of these work. He really needs a black one.”
Brianna just stared back at her with all of Nova’s designer clothes strewn over the bed as the television still played in the background. There were twelve shirts in varying colors to choosefrom. Brianna knew because she had silently counted them, desperate for something to do that would calm her mind.
It was a big risk to run back upstairs at this point.
Only twenty minutes had passed since Tino’s phone call—but it felt like a lifetime. Every noise made them jump in terror, and the idea of pausing all that because of a shirt?
Crazy.
Carmen had moved on to a small, open black bag of extras that glittered under the dim lights in the basement bedroom. Carina had just dumped thousands of dollars’ worth of her brother’s watches, tie bars, and cufflinks into the bag without a thought. Now Carmen was tossing cufflinks on the bed like they weren’t each worth an insane amount of money.
“No. No. No. Maybe.” Carmen looked at the diamond and ruby playing card cufflinks in her hand and set them on top of the charcoal gray suit she had picked out. She started discarding the tie bars onto the bed next but stopped to glance up at Brianna and repeated, “Black shirt.” When Brianna didn’t respond, Carmen huffed like it was obvious. “In case he bleeds through it. He doesn’t need those sorts of questions.”
“I guess.” Brianna supposed that made sense.
More importantly, she wanted to get out of the basement anyway.
If she were being honest with herself, she wanted to get out of the house completely.
“Thank you, pretty girl. I know you’ll find it,” Carmen called out as Brianna headed for the stairs. “And hurry.”
Brianna just held up a hand, trying to keep her cool because raids scared the ever-loving-fuck out of her.
Why not just leave?
Dr. Acciai cleared his throat and got to leave.
What is it about me that always wants to stick around for the drama?
Brianna kept asking herself the same questions all the way up to Nova’s room—where there were no black shirts of his. Not a single one in his entire walk-in closet at the Don’s, which was considerable.
How is that even possible?
It was ridiculous how much clothing Nova owned. She couldn’t imagine what the closet in his East Harlem apartment looked like if this was just his weekend stuff.
Tino had some of his clothes in there, and she found a black dress shirt. She was holding it out, trying to gauge if Nova would be able to button it, considering how much broader his shoulders were than Tino’s, but maybe
“There’s no way that’ll work. You’re standing in Tino’s section.” Carina walked into the closet and arched an eyebrow at the shirt in Brianna’s hand. “Nova will be busting out of that thing like the Hulk.”
“Carmen says he needs a black one.” Brianna shrugged. “In case he bleeds through it.”
“Maybe Carlo has some in his closet. It’ll fit a lot better.”
“Is Dr. Acciai gone?” Brianna asked with no little bit of jealousy.
“Yeah, hopefully no one stops him with all that shit in his car. I gave him my weed, too.”
“Carina!” Brianna snapped as the two of them walked out of Nova’s closet. “Why didn’t you just flush it?”
“It was my good weed.” Carina said it like that should explain everything.
Now they all knew why Carina was such an enthusiastic helper of Dr. Acciai. She had that basement packed up in record time.
They were halfway down the hallway to Carlo’s room when a loud, echoing knock reverberated through the house. It was violent enough to shake the floors beneath their feet, and thiswasn’t a flimsy house. It was old, solid, made of concrete and brick, and likely designed for its ability to hide secrets and maintain silence. No human fist could knock like that.
