Page 6 of The Enforcer's Revenge
Since it was her twentieth, the Don gave Carina the Mills Basin house to use for the weekend. Big fucking mistake. Though it was past nine at night, the music vibrated over the water, and it would likely only get louder. Tino wasn’t sure if the place could last the next three days when his sister was in full-throttle party mode, and it was obvious she went all out for this one.
People were everywhere, all over the balconies and scattered on the lawn despite the cold. Others sat on the docks that were so full of boats Carlo was bitching about getting docked. Tino noticed most of the guests were wearing decorative Mardi Gras-type masks, giving the party a very forbidden, sexual feel that pulsated in the air even from their view on the water. There were smoke machines, sending the mist streaming out into the bay. The lighting on the balconies was done in deep reds, casting shadows everywhere, giving it a red-light district look.
“What’s up with the masks? I can’t go in there. Fuck that. There’s no way. If Lola finds out I was at a party like this for three days, she’ll have my ass. I’m not even going to talk about the music. The old man would lose his fucking mind if he heard Carina singing abouther milkshakelike she’s selling it.”
“But it does actually bring all the boys to the yard.” Tino held up his hand to the house as evidence. “It’s not false advertisement.”
The music was loud—quake the walls loud—but it was unlikely anyone would actually call the cops. More like the neighbors were just waiting for it to be over. Fortunately, the mansion was mostly private on a corner lot of the inlet, which was probably why the Don bought it.
The place was fucking huge, too.
It was easily as big as the Don’s Dyker Heights mansion and still overflowing with people. It looked like half of Brooklyn was there and a large chunk of Manhattan along with them because his sister was one of those people who collected admirers.
She did throw a good party, and the entertainment was always top-notch. The band she hooked up with a few months ago was multitalented in the best ways possible. The guitarist could rap, and Carina was a versatile performer. Together, they could perform just about anything, so they were great for parties.
Especially her own.
“I bet Nova’s hating life,” Tino snorted. “You know the Don asked him to come and keep an eye on the place, like she’s gonna listen to him more than anyone else. I swear your father gets more clueless by the day.”
“Nova’s not the only one on the line with this place.” Carlo rolled his eyes. “The old man asked me to look after it too. It’s the most expensive property in the Borgata.” He held his hands up to the house. “What the fuck? It’s already over. It’ll be twenty grand in repairs. Easy.”
“Happy birthday to the princess.” Tino jumped over the edge of the boat onto the dock. “Later.”
“Can you tell her to take it down three thousand notches?” Carlo called out in Italian with that Sicilian curve to it that was uniquely Carlo, since his mother was actually from Sicily. “We’re all going to fucking hear it on Monday if you don’t. You’re supposed to be keeping her in line. It’s literally part of your job. He pays you for that shit. You know there are drugs everywhere in that house. The heat shows up, and she’s going to land in lock-up.” He sounded a little manic as Tino walked away and Carina started singingMy Humps,since clearly her set had a theme. “At least have her pick different music! I’m serious, Tino! Someone’stelling the old man about this kinky shit, and he’s going to freak the fuck out. She’s not allowed to sell it like that.”
Tino just held up his hand in acknowledgment, which felt pointless, but he humored Carlo. With the last name Moretti, Carlo should be the one turning it up, not keeping it down. All of Cosa Nostra was notorious for enjoying the fruits of their labors and living it up, but the Morettis in particular were known for it.
That was their special contribution to organized crime.
Each family had their own little corner of the underworld to keep the peace. Just like the De Lucas with their big, scary, super intense loan sharking racket and their domination of Las Vegas that Nova was not so secretly jealous of.
The Morettis had their hands in a few Atlantic City casinos, but it wasn’t their main source of income. They did a lot of old-school union stuff, too, and the old man had been favoring arms deals with the Russians for a while now, but this was theirrealgig since it seemed to come to them naturally. They had been building their rep since prohibition, and each Moretti generation managed to one-up the other. Gambling would’ve probably been better than supplying half the country with weed and party candy, but it could always be worse.
They could be the fucking Brambinos.
The point was that Tino was absolutely certain the old man knew what Carina was going to do when he let her have the Mills Basin mansion for her birthday. It was her birthright, and so long as she made sure her party was the biggest, flashiest, most outrageously Siciliano party to ever hit Brooklyn, he was fine with it.
The Don had a sea of mafia muscle there to scare away anyone who thought they could somehow take advantage of Carina while she was enjoying turning twenty.
The mansion was designed in a way that all the doors slid back to make the entrances on the ground floor and out frombalconies wide open. There were heat lamps outside, making it even steamier, and the way they warmed the cold December air was jarring.
“No guns.”
Tino stopped and looked down at the hand on his chest. Then he glanced back up at Gino Moretti and arched an eyebrow.
“Sorry.” Gino jerked his hand back. “I didn’t notice it was you.”
They’d only gone to school together since they were both twelve and spent most holidays together—because the Don always threw big parties. The dumbass should’ve recognized Tino the moment he got off the boat.
Gino’s father also happened to be one of the lead guys in Tino’s father’s crew. Not that there was any love lost between Tino and his father—or his crew—but the relation made him more than just a Borgata brother. Gino was his second or third cousin. Tino could never keep up, but their grandfathers were brothers, which certainly made them blood.
Lately, Gino had been on Nova’s crew doing that top-shelf muscle thing guys like him did. Not too smart, but with the right last name, he was a great one to shadow in the administration, like Nova.
And there was always something to keep him busy, like doing a really shitty job at manning the door.
“You’re not looking at people’s faces?” Tino asked him in disbelief, considering Gino was on Nova’s crew and one of the assholes responsible for keeping his brother safe. “You’re supposed to be paying attention, motherfucker.”
Gino shrugged. “It’s dark.”
