Sempre (Forever) (50 page)

Dominic was quiet for a moment, appearing deep in thought. “What’s the name of that company in Chicago they do business with? Salvatore’s on the board, I think.”

Carmine shrugged. “Galaxy something-or-nother.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Galaxy Corp. Don’t they make GPS devices?”

“Uh, possibly. I don’t really pay attention to that shit, Dom.”

He nodded, turning back to the computer. “I’ll see what I can do. If Dad tracks it through his laptop, I might be able to tweak it a bit to throw him off, but I don’t know if I can block it permanently.”

“A head start is better than no start at all.”

Carmine started to walk away when his brother’s voice stopped him. “You’re not planning to run away, are you?”

“No, just making contingency plans in case it ever comes to that. Dad said he couldn’t guarantee Haven and I would have a future, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let anything stop us.”

*  *  *  *

Vincent slowed the car as he neared the tall brick house, swinging a sharp right into the driveway. He parked behind the bright red convertible and climbed out, locking it up and setting an alarm.

The neighborhood was decent, not too much crime in that part of town. He wasn’t worried about any of the locals, as they’d have to be foolish to even step foot onto the property uninvited. Everyone around there was well aware
la famiglia
controlled the streets and had for decades, just as they all knew the brick house in front of him and the woman who lived inside of it were strictly off limits. They knew Vincent’s position of authority and the power he held, and they respected him for it. Most of them didn’t like him, but frankly Vincent didn’t care about their personal feelings.

The moment Vincent stepped into the streets, his emotions didn’t exist anymore. He had no compassion, no sympathy, no empathy, and no remorse. He couldn’t. As unfortunate as it was, it was the only way he’d found to survive. And the longer he spent in Chicago, the colder he grew. Heartless and alone, he often had a hard time remembering why he did anything anymore.

It was harsh, but even the woman inside the house a few feet from him was dispensable. He wouldn’t die for her, nor would he kill for her. In fact, he barely gave her a second thought. He only loved one woman, and he would only ever love one woman.

It was one of those warm spring nights that Maura had always enjoyed, where she could open up all of the windows and let the breeze blow through. He used to complain about how hot she let the house get. He’d been so temperamental back then, and many times he wished he could go back and erase his scathing words.

Del senno di poi son piene le fosse
. Hindsight is always 20/20.

He strolled up to the front door and rang the doorbell before rolling up the sleeves of his light blue button up shirt. The sound of high heels echoed inside before the locks shifted.

The door opened. The woman stood before him, a smile on her shiny red lips. “Hello, Vincent. It’s been a while.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, and she moved out of the way to let him pass. “You want some wine?” she asked as he made his way to the front room.

“Sure,” he said, taking a seat on her black leather couch. He didn’t drink anymore, hadn’t for a long time, but he knew it was rude to say no. She never commented on the fact that he didn’t drink it.

“Here,” she said as she walked in, holding a glass of red wine. He took it from her as she smiled, sitting down beside him. He brought the glass up to his nose and inhaled, taking in the aroma. Maura always liked red wine.

“So, how long are you in town for this time?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

He shrugged. “I suppose until I’m dismissed.”

She wasn’t naïve to the lifestyle. She’d been born into it, a
Principessa della Mafia
. Growing up, Celia had babysat her, as the woman’s father had been a
consigliere
. She knew he couldn’t talk about what he did, so she never asked. In fact, conversation between them was usually kept to a minimum. There was no misleading and certainly no misconceptions.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. He gazed at her, his eyes roaming down her body. She was wearing a snug black dress that was so short he could see the lacy tops of her black thigh highs. Her skin was tanned, her hair dark brown. Her eyes were an odd shade of hazel with tiny flecks of green in them. The green was a reminder of the eyes he’d gazed into every night for years.

He looked away from her. “Sure.”

They ate dinner while she talked and finished off the bottle of wine. Vincent just listened and nodded at the right times.

Afterward, Vincent strolled to the window and gazed out as she cleaned up. It was a cloudless night, the stars and moon shining brightly above her backyard. It was enclosed, her property separated from the bustling Chicago neighborhood. It was nothing like the backyard at his house a few miles away, with a tree house still intact that his kids enjoyed growing up.

He heard the clicking of heels approaching, the sound stopping right behind him. Her reflection greeted him in the window. She smiled mischievously, running her hands up his back. She started rubbing his shoulders, massaging them firmly. “You’re always so tense, Vincent.”

He let out a soft sigh. “That’s why I come to you. You know exactly what I need.”

She hummed in response as she ran her hands under his shirt, her manicured fingernails lightly scrapping his skin. Maura never had fingernails, always chewed them down to little stubs—sometimes so much so that she made her fingers bleed.

She started undoing his buttons, her lips pressing lightly against the nape of his neck. Her breath was warm, her kiss sticky from the color on her lips. “I think I know what you need now.”

It didn’t last long. It never did. An hour later, Vincent was redressed and heading for the door. “
Grazie
. It was nice, as usual.”

“I’m always here,” she said, reaching up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Take care, Vincent.”

The clock on the car's dash read nearly midnight when Vincent backed out of the driveway and started toward Highway 290. He drove for about thirty minutes before finding a grocery store that was still open. He parked and went inside, walking around until he found the small display of flowers. He paid for a bunch of miscellaneous colored ones before getting back on the road, driving a few minutes longer. He pulled onto the long winding path that cut through the hillside, glancing at the sign as he passed through the front gate: Mount Carmel Cemetery.

He shut off the car and grabbed the flowers as he climbed out. He walked through the grass, past the graves of some of those who had lived his life and died. The Capone’s were all buried in this section, dozens of other
Mafiosi
scattered throughout the cemetery. He’d be here someday too, buried in the plot right beside his wife.

His steps faltered as he spotted the gravestone, his chest constricting. Kneeling in front of it, he set the flowers down before running his hand along the name on the cold marble marker. Sighing, he closed his eyes. He didn’t need to read it; he’d been there enough times to have the image burned in his brain.

Maura DeMarco

April 1965 – October 1996

“Ama, ridi, sogna - e vai dormire”

“My sweet Maura,” he said. “I know it has been months, but I haven’t felt like I deserved to visit you. How disappointed you must be.”

He sat down in the grass, eyeing the sentence that aligned the bottom. “
Ama, ridi, sogna - e vai dormire
,” he said, his voice a strangled whisper in the darkness. “Love, laugh, dream, and go to sleep. That was how you lived your life, and I’m trying to follow your lead.”

His vision blurred with tears. “I got her, you know. I finally got her for you, and you’re not here for it. I just hope wherever you are, you can see her.”

He laughed cynically, shaking his head as a tear slipped from the corner of his eye. “You were probably angry at me when I locked her in her room, almost as upset as you must’ve been that day all those years ago when I…” He trailed off. He couldn’t admit it out loud. “You know what I almost did that night, what I tried to do that night… the night I killed them. I know you were watching, and you were the one that stopped me. Even dead, you’re still saving her. I could imagine you standing there with your forehead wrinkled—how you used to look whenever you got mad at me. I always hated disappointing you, but what I wouldn’t give to see that face again. Just once more, if only for a moment.”

He paused, glancing at the flowers. Maura was never the type to like anything fancy—wildflowers would’ve suited her best. “The girl’s okay now, I guess. We all are for the time being. I’m trying to figure out how to keep us that way. She’s been growing and coming into her own. It reminds me so much of you sometimes. And that’s so hard, harder than you could imagine.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, brushing away the tears. Walking into the cemetery always opened the floodgate.

He sat quietly, enjoying the silence as he savored being so close to where she was laid to rest. Seeing her name, something tangible to remind him she’d been real, soothed his frazzled nerves.

After a few minutes, he stood up and brushed the grass off of his pants. “I won’t stay gone so long next time. I love you.”

He walked away then, heading across the cemetery toward his car. The tears came to a stop as he drove out the front gate, his heart growing numb on the drive back to Chicago. By the time he crossed into the city limits, he felt cold once again.

Chapter 32

Haven stood in the doorway to the bedroom, quietly watching Carmine. He sat at his desk with his head in the palm of his left hand, staring intently at the laptop in front of him. He hadn’t sensed her presence yet, or if he did, he was choosing not to acknowledge her.

Carmine groaned after a moment. “What kinda question is this? What does the Greek alphabet have to do with math?”

She blurted out the answer without thinking. “Pi?”

He jumped at the sound of her voice and swung around. “Did you just ask me if I wanted some pie?”

“No, Pi is a part of the Greek alphabet, and it’s also a math, uh, thingy.”

He stared at her for a moment before what she said seemed to register. “Well thank Alex Trebek for that. You could probably do my damn homework and save me a lot of aggravation, you know.”

She blushed. “But if I did your work, how would you learn?”

“I don’t see myself ever needing to know this shit,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, is there something you needed?”

“I’m supposed to go to Dia’s, remember?”

She wasn’t sure how he’d forgotten, since it was his idea in the first place. “Oh, yeah, right,” he said, grabbing his keys off of his desk. She expected him to stand up so they could leave, but instead he just held them out to her. “Here.”

“What?” She stared at the keys. “Aren’t you going to drive me?”

“You know how to drive,” he said nonchalantly, jingling them. “I don’t have time to play taxi,
tesoro
. I have a ton of homework to get done and errands to run.”

Her brow furrowed. “How will you run errands today if you don’t have your car?”

“I’m going with Dom,” he said. “You remember how to get to Dia’s, right? It’s a straight shot. I dropped you off there when you got your dress.”

“Uh, yes, but…”

“And stop by the store on your way back home and grab some Coke for me, will you? It’s just the next street over. There should be some cash in the glove box.”

She gaped at him. “But… your car. I can’t drive it.”

He sighed exasperatedly. “Why not?”

“Because I’ve never before,” she said. “I’ve only ever driven Dr. DeMarco’s, and that’s when you were with me.”

“Mine drives like his does. And if it makes it easier on you, pretend I’m in the passenger seat. Just curse a few times, and it’ll feel like I’m really there.”

He turned back around without another word.

It was the middle of May now, and today was Durante High School’s prom. Three weeks ago Carmine had sprung it on her, casually telling her she needed to pick out her dress. She wasn’t sure Dr. DeMarco would allow it, but Carmine told her she was being ridiculous. Dia offered to take her shopping a few days later, and Haven picked out a blue one with dark golden colored trim.

The past few weeks had been a confusing time for Haven. There were highs and lows, the changes sometimes so abrupt that it was impossible to brace for it. The anticipation and excitement was always there, brewing underneath the surface, but there was also fear. A fear of the unknown, a fear of the plunges, because Carmine was unpredictable these days.

It wasn’t always bad. He lost his temper quite a bit, but there were also moments, such as that one in his bedroom, when he did something that seemed uncharacteristic of the boy she’d come to know. He was protective of his car, so much so that he didn’t like his own father driving it, yet he’d handed her the keys when she didn’t even have a license.

Haven headed outside and climbed into the car, her hands shaking violently as she started it up. She put the car in gear and started down the driveway, heading across town to meet Dia.

The Harper family lived in a small, one-story tan house in the center of town, modest but big enough for the four of them to squeeze in. Dia and Tess shared a bedroom and had since the day they were born, the close quarters often reason for their sisterly bickering. They always seemed to be able to work it out, though, compromising so both girls ended up happy.

Haven saw proof of it as soon as she stepped into their bedroom, a piece of duct tape on the carpet running straight down the center of the room. The left half was clean and decorated femininely, with shades of pink and posters of movie stars, while the right half was absolute chaos. Hardly any of the white paint was visible on the wall, hundreds of photographs covering it like wallpaper.