Page 11 of Silent Night Sins
Now that my brother was back, he’d be eligible bachelor number two. The Morelli Famiglia liked tradition. And what was more traditional than an arranged marriage between the few families running the show?
“She can try to date the lad on her own time,” Don Morelli grumped. “We’ve got this business with the O’Toole crew to deal with.”
I sighed. It would be so much easier to start a turf war and show our rivals that we had teeth. Given that we were a smaller organization, that wasn’t feasible. It took skill and negotiation to stay alive in the Underworld, and cunning was useful to thrive. With age, I’d learned to channel my drive for destruction, but damn if it wasn’t a hard-fought lesson to learn!
Iron control? Is that what you call chasing Nicky and fucking her with your tongue?
I slapped the inner voice—hard.
Nicky was different. She was back.
If there was a snowball’s chance in hell, I would make her mine. I just had to play it smart. See if she still showed any feeling for the dirty boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Not that we’d always been separated by wealth and status.
As the old men talked, my mind wandered back to a time in history when Archy Loring was an associate at a neighborhood law office. An up-and-coming brainiac, he worked closely with his old crony—my old man—and by default, Don Morelli.
Our dads sat at the kitchen table. Garh, they were so boring! I was never going to be like them. I was going to win the title belt for boxing, buy a sick beach house in Florida, and have Nicky paint every room a different color.
I grinned at my friend. Her puffy pink jacket and matching snowpants made her look like a peep. The winter wind cut through the backyard, making her cheeks glow bright red.
Man alive, what would it be like to kiss her? I’d thought about it a lot. She was thirteen now, and at Christmas, I tried to trick her under the mistletoe. She’d stuck out her tongue and run away.
But I could always take her behind the garage. There were some icicles there we could harvest for our fort’s kitchen. How did I do it? Just…surprise her? Ask her to kiss me?
“Hey-Yo, Messina!” Rake Heart called. “You stink like a girl.”
Although the slur was meant for me, Nicky bristled. She hated when other punks implied that girls were too delicate to keep up with the boys. Which was probably why we were such good friends, because I challenged her instead of insisting she hang back.
From inside our fort, Vincenzo and Amanda poked their heads up. The pale yellow cap on Nicky’s sister looked like rabbit ears. She fiercely defied anyone who said bunny ears couldn’t be worn by a fourteen-year-old.
My brother and I shared a look. With a war yell, Enzo began chucking our stash of snowballs at the neighbor kids coming at us.
I grabbed Nicky’s mitten and tugged her back to the safety of the fort. Mounting the defenses, I scooped a pile of balls, turned, and began pelting the oncoming kids.
Rake glared at me. That kid was trouble—but if what Dad said about his parents and the monthly bar tab was true, it made sense.
Winding back his arm, Rake prepared to launch a ball at me.
“Tino! Watch out!” Nicky cried.
I knew what was coming. I saw the ball whiz through the air. Men of honor didn’t flinch in the face of battle. Messina men held their ground.
A burst of pink shot in front of me. Nicky reared up, arms and legs spread wide like a starfish.
The snowball thwacked her skull.
“No!” I yelled, wrapping my arms around her fluffy middle and dropping backward into the fort.
Nicky whimpered.
My brave, fearless friend never cried. Not when her mom served their dad papers at Thanksgiving. Not last summer when they put the family ankle biter down.
But now, tears leaked from her eyes.
What was worse, red trickled from her forehead.
That beady trail of red set a livid fire in my veins. The unholy rage was like nothing I’d ever felt before.
I surged to my feet, ready to destroy something.
