Dark Saint [Romano Brotherhood, #1]

31 | Santo

"So, what happened with you and Nina?"

Tommaso sips casually on his whiskey as he leans against the bar, ignoring my look. It's not that he doesn't know when to not pry, it's that he doesn't fucking care. 

"Why are you asking me that right now?"

"Why not?" He scoffs. "Don't tell me you fucked it up already.  It's been like fifteen minutes. I thought you'd make it at least a little longer."

"And I thought you weren't the type to day drink."

Tommaso slams his glass down, rounding the bar. He shoves at my chest surprisingly hard, and I step back into one of the bar stools behind me. The fuck? My chest tightens in anger and I'm grabbing his wrists before he can shove me again.

"Cool down," I hiss. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Now that I think about it, he was drinking earlier too, and it's barely noon. Looking at him now, he looks unusually disheveled, eyes red and what looks like several hickeys scattered down his neck. 

"You," he snaps, nearly trembling in rage. It's so sudden that I'm completely fucking baffled. "You always—"

"Um, guys?"

We both turn to... fuck, what was his name? The bar owner is strapped to a chair three feet away, a cautious expression on his face. He shrinks under the weight of our stares and gives a timid little smile.

"If you two are just going to argue, can I go? I swear I don't know anything."

"Sure," Tommaso shrugs, stepping away from me. He bypasses his glass and grabs the bottle, taking a couple swigs as he saunters over. 

"Thanks, man," the bar owner sighs, relieved. He flexes his arms in anticipation of the ropes being untied. "I really—what the fuck?"

Tommaso smiles woodenly as he empties the alcohol over the man's head, the brown liquid splashing fucking everywhere. He splutters, trying to jerk out of his restraints with renewed panic now.

"Pro tip? We're not as fucking stupid as you think. Next time, don't lie." Tommaso goes to take a sip from the bottle, muttering a curse when he sees it's empty. "Let's fucking get out of here already," he throws back at me, striding for the door.

"Put that back. It's barely the afternoon," I snap as he grabs a bottle of vodka from behind the bar. He ignores me, flicking the cap behind him as he strolls out. 

"Fucking idiot. Never listens," I grumble. The bar owner's eyes are widened owlishly in fright, hair plastered to his face. It pisses me off. He's a fucking idiot too.

Rooting around in my pockets, I tug out my lighter. I flick it on and toss it, not even staying around to watch the flames crawl up his chest and face. His screams follow me out the door. The whole place will be ash soon. 

Tommaso is waiting in the car like a petulant child with an alcohol problem when I slide into the front seat.

He hands me my phone which is buzzing and lit up with Simo's name. Jesus. Ever the control freak.

"It's done," I snap, immediately hanging up. The guy was clearly lying to us, and getting rid of him was offensively easy. But like the rest of us, Simo's been acting weird lately. Come to think about it, Nico's the only one who seems to have his head screwed on straight.

I peel out of the parking lot before someone decides to call the fire department, Tommaso's vodka sloshing onto the floor. 

"Throw that shit out. I don't want my car to smell."