“Got a little closer than usual. Better luck next time.”

We might talk about killing each other and even inflict a few wounds, but deep down, nothing in this world could tear us apart. It was why we were one of the most formidable families in New York.

I grunted, slapping his bleeding hands away. “You’re getting me dirty.”

Gin laughed and let his hands drop. “You like blood.”

I shook my head. “Not yours. Make sure you go get it checked and properly cleaned.”

Gin waved me off. “They aren’t that deep.”

Our gazes locked as I contemplated taking him to the hospital myself. My brother was more likely to do the bare minimum wound care and would end up suffering for it later.

“Shouldn’t you go check on the cop?” Gin asked, knowing how to distract me.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “After we go to the clinic.”

Gin shook his head. “You know how I feel about those places. The smell of bleach and death in the air.” A visible shudder wrecked his tall, muscular frame. “Not going.”

“I’ll call the doc, and she will meet us at your place.”

Gin looked ready to argue with me, but I wasn’t letting him. I might be the youngest of the three of us, but I was far more responsible than Gin.

“Where are you two headed?” Benito’s voice cut through the club’s music.

Gin winked at me, and I shut my mouth as he answered for the both of us. “Cut myself, headed home.”

“You’re going to let a doctor look at it,” Benito said, leaving no room for Giancarlo to argue.

“Doctor this, doctor that. I’ll be fine,” Gin said.

“Enzo, make sure this idiot gets checked over and patched up.”

I nodded, glad Benito didn’t ask how it happened. He turned on his heels and headed toward his office.

“You know you owe me, right?” Gin said, knocking our shoulders together.

“I’m not doing your job for you.”

It wasn’t possible anyway. Where I felt odd and uncomfortable around crowds, Giancarlo thrived. He became the center of attention and drew people from all walks of life to him.

“Wouldn’t think of it. You’re more likely to creep everyone out.”

“Then what?” I asked as we walked out the backdoor. His black 1978 Monte Carlo was parked right outside the door. “Benito told you to stop parking here.”

Gin sighed and attempted to get behind the wheel. I snatched the keys away, and we had another silent standoff.

“I’m only letting you drive my baby because you’re careful, but one scratch and you will have bleeding hands.”

I nodded, knowing how serious my brother was about his car. He’d been working on it since we were teens. It had come a long way from scrap metal to a functioning car with fresh paint.

“And what Benito doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

I started the car and opened my mouth but shut it at Gin’s next words.