Chapter 12
Thomas peeled away from the curb in his Bugatti like he was playing Grand Theft Auto in real life.
“Jesus Christ!” I braced myself against the door. “Do you know what a brake pedal is?”
“Eh.” He flashed me an easy grin and winked. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.”
That fucking Moretti confidence.
Worse yet, I was looking at a Gen-Z version of Nicola.
God help us all.
“Slow the fuck down before we wreck, Thomas!”
“Nah.” He shrugged. “We’re good."
I scowled. “Mike said you turned into an asshole, and I’m starting to think he might be right. God, you sound like you’re forty now. And you have a beard. It’s so weird.”
He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “I shaved this morning.”
"And it’s insane to me that you can drive. Well...” I glanced at the wheel. “...actually, that’s debatable.”
He laughed.
I looked back out at the freeway, relieved traffic was unusually light. “You know, Nicola pissed me off most of the time. Mike never talked to me much. But you always did.”
I smiled to myself. “I missed hanging out with you. Even if you are trying to murder me with your Hot Wheels car.”
His smile softened. “I missed you too.”
For just a second, he looked exactly like the kid I watched grow up. Then it disappeared and he was a grown man again.
“I just have one question.” He kept his eyes on the road. “You and Nicola...”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Me and Nicola... what?”
“I mean...” He shrugged. “He’s been at your apartment a couple times. You two always bickered like you’ve already been married for twenty years. So I figured you were finally...”
He glanced at me and then made creaking bed sounds.
I groaned. “Oh my God. You are unbelievable.”
Wait. Finally?
What the hell did that mean? Did Thomas know I’d been in love with Nicola? Had everyone known?
Was I the only idiot who thought I’d hidden it? I shoved the thought away before it could take root.
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you. It’s creepy.”
“That’s fair. I’m just saying…” He gave me an exaggerated once-over. “If you wanted to make him jealous, you could always go out with me.”
“Oh, God. Stop. Stop. Stop. Among other things, that’s pedophilia.”
He looked genuinely offended. “How’s it pedophilia? I’m twenty-five.”
“Nope. We’re changing the subject. We’re gonna talk about…” I stared determinedly out the window. “Shopping malls.”
Thomas was quiet for only a moment. “So...” He grinned. “Is that a maybe or…?”
I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out. “You are Nicola’s mirror image, you know that? Flirting with anything that moves. I can literally feel my blood pressure going up.”
His grin somehow got even bigger. So boyish. So familiar.
No matter how deep his voice got… I was never going to see him as anything but the little boy who used to follow me around and beg me to play Mario Kart with him.
“I learned from the best,” he mused.
My smile lingered. “Yeah.” My voice softened. “You really did.”
Thomas looked forward. He tapped lightly against the steering wheel. “Can I ask you something else?”
“It sounds like you’re going to ask me anyway.”
“He’s gonna be furious when he finds out. And I know he’s gonna find out.” He grimaced. “So could you maybe intervene and cool him down first?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Intervene how? Stand in the bullet’s crossfire?”
“No, no. Talk to him. Soften him up.” Then his face lit up. “Flash him or something. Put that little red dress back on. That’ll do it.”
I barked out a laugh. “Are you seriously worried Nicky’s gonna hurt you?”
His smile disappeared. “I don’t know. I’ve never fucked up this bad before.”
He stared through the windshield for several long seconds. “I wanted to show him I could make big moves, too. Even though I’m not made, I’m in it, you know? I wanted to show I was loyal, and committed."
"You wanted respect."
Thomas nodded.
My insides softened. “If you were the Don, and Nicky had fucked up, would you punish him for it?”
He frowned. “No. He’s my brother.”
I made a clicking sound with a finger gun. “Bullseye. Nicola loves you. Maybe he’ll rough you up a bit, but just make sure he doesn’t mess up your pretty widdle face.” I pinched his cheek and he batted me away.
“You aren’t funny, Abby.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry. Look, it’ll be okay. I mean… were you the one who killed this guy, Tommy?”
His head shook. “No. It was one of my friends. This Ferraro guy showed up at Nicky’s club, and was talking shit like he was some gangster, flashing his pistol and everything. We just lost it on him. I should have pulled him back, but… he just kept going. It was stupid.”
Thomas let out a long, remorseful breath. “So stupid.”
Complicated feelings were not a Moretti strong-suit.
And while I knew what he and his friend did was morally reprehensible… a part of me wanted to protect him.
Not that I really thought Nicola would ever hurt his brother.
Gently, I squeezed his shoulder in reassurance and then we both fell silent.
The warehouse was empty except for Thomas and me.
I was used to seeing Nicola’s men posted everywhere. Quiet conversations. Maybe music drifting from somewhere in the background.
Tonight, it was just us and the low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.
The body had already been removed. Dark stains had settled into the cracks in the concrete.
We were both dressed in PPE. Thomas stood beside me with a shovel in his hands, silently watching the coagulating powder do its job hardening the viscous tissue and blood.
He swallowed. Hard.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t. He stared at the floor for another few seconds before abruptly turning away. A moment later, I heard him gag into the nearby trash can.
I pretended not to notice. I reacted the same way when I first watched my Dad do a clean up. By the time he came back, the warm olive tone had drained from his face.
“I don’t know how you do this,” he muttered. He wrinkled his nose. “God... the fucking smell.”
“That’s why I told you to use the Vaporub.” I unscrewed the little canister and held it out to him. “You’ll look really stupid with it under your nose.”
I smiled. “But take comfort in the fact you already look stupid in the hazmat suit.”
He shot me a dirty look before snatching the canister from my hand.
For the next hour, neither of us talked much. We scrubbed, mopped. Sprayed. Bleached.
Repeated.
Little by little, it stopped looking like a murder scene, and returned to an abandoned warehouse again.
Following one final UV light sweep over the floor and walls, we peeled off our PPE and tossed it into the disposal bins.
Thomas let out a long breath and lowered onto the concrete. He folded his hands beneath his head and stared up at the fluorescent lights.
“Thanks for helping me, Abby.”
His voice was quiet, tired.
I sat beside him, stretching my aching back.
“Nicky never made mistakes. It’s not fair. He was born for that job.”
He shook his head. “I feel like I’ve gotta prove myself every single day just to get noticed.”
I frowned. Nicky made mistakes. Plenty. Some, he didn’t even think I knew about.
Thomas just never got to see them.
It struck me then, how differently the two brothers saw each other.
Thomas only saw the Don. The mythical, invincible facade.
He didn’t get to see the man who fidgeted with every button on his shirt because cuddling somehow made him wildly uncomfortable. Or the one who let lines show on his face, and the fatigue seeped through.
Thomas only knew the version the rest of the city knew.
My chest tightened.
God. He had no idea who his brother really was.
The sound of engines reached us before the headlights did. We both rose to our feet.
I looked toward the warehouse entrance. Headlights swept across the walls.
“...Fuck,” Thomas whispered.
One SUV rolled to a stop. Then another. Then a third.
The warehouse turned silent, we could hear car doors opening one after another. Heavy footsteps echoed through the building.
“They’re early,” he muttered.
The warehouse doors slid open.
Several of Nicola’s men entered first. Then Michael. And finally, Nicola.
He passed through the middle of them in a tailored black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a black tie.
Some of his hair had been tucked neatly behind his ears. Most of it fell across his forehead like he’d spent hours artistically tousling it in the mirror.
Typical.
His footsteps were slow. Measured, unhurried.
God, he was beautiful. One look and my entire body just ached to be near him.
His gaze swept over the room once, taking in the scene. Scrubbed concrete. The discarded buckets. The undiluted bleach. Thomas.
Then… Me. His eyes settled there, and his face softened for a heartbeat.
Then it disappeared.
He let out a long, theatrical sigh through his nose.
“Oh, Tommy. Tommy, Tommy.” He slowly shook his head. “My sweet baby brother.”
Thomas winced. “Nick—”
Nicola held up a patient finger. “No.”
He was far too calm, which told me he was fucking furious. “You get a kick out of pissing everyone off, don’t you?”
I frowned as Thomas stared at the floor and didn’t answer.
That wasn’t it at all.
Nicola turned his head, cupping his hand behind his ear. “What? No answer this time? Fine.”
He took one slow step forward. “Tell me why you thought it was a good idea to start a fight with some shithead Ferraro kid...”
Another step. “... On the very fucking day I was negotiating with them?”
Thomas’s throat flexed.
“Hm?” Nicola pressed.
Thomas’s eyes flickered toward me.
"Don’t.” Nicola never even looked in my direction. “Don’t you dare ask Aubergine to fix this.”
His eyes stayed locked on his brother. “You don’t make cleanup calls. Michael does. You don’t freelance, you arrogant fuck. You don’t improvise. You put everything in this family at risk. And for what?”
“I-I know I fucked up, Nicky.”
“No. There isn’t a word for what you did, Tommy." He pointed heavenward. "You went so far past ‘fuck up’ you’ve entered an entirely different fucking atmosphere.”
His voice never rose once. “Get back to the house. You’re not leaving until I come talk to you.”
Thomas’s head hung low. He brushed past Nicola without another word.
Nicola watched him leave. He didn’t move until the warehouse doors closed behind him.
Only then did he finally turn toward me.
His hands slipped into his trouser pockets and his mouth tightened.
Like he wanted to ask something. Instead, he sighed.
“Come on.” He jerked his head toward the waiting SUVs. “I’m taking you home.”