Sempre (Forever) (53 page)

“Why?” he asked, sitting down in the chair across from him.

“Because you knocked, and that’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know myself anymore, so I guess I’m capable of anything at this point.”

He nodded. “You’ve been irritable lately. Are you dealing okay?”

“I’m over that shit.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Vincent said. “It took me years to come to grips with it.”

“Well, I don’t have years. I don’t even wanna think about it, much less talk about it.”

“Okay, then. Is there another reason you came down here?”

“Yeah, it’s about tonight—”

“How was prom? Did you have a good time?”

Carmine groaned, irritated he was cutting him off. “It was just fucking peachy, Dad. Now can I finish?”

Vincent waved him on.

“The point is we ran into Nicholas, and he said something.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he knew the truth about Haven.”

Carmine watched as his father’s expression shifted, a blank mask overcoming his face. Each second of silence grated on his nerves. Why was he just sitting there?

“What exactly did he say, Carmine?”

“He told her he wanted to be her friend because he was worried about her situation. I guess because he thinks he knows who you really are.”

“It's possible he knows more than he should.”

Carmine sat forward. “My enemy knows the truth, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“He's not your enemy, Carmine.”

“He is my enemy. Why’s he still alive if he knows?”

Vincent shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean that.”

“No, you don’t,” he said sharply. “I know what enemies are. I know the threats they pose, and Nicholas is not an enemy. He knows no more than Dia or Tess. He probably knows less. I can’t kill him any more than I could kill one of those girls. Or is that what you’re suggesting—wiping out everyone who might know? That’s not how you get a clean slate with her, son. You can’t run from the truth.”

“That’s irrelevant. How can he be trusted with anything when he’s betrayed us before?”

“He didn’t betray us,” Vincent said. “And he won’t tell.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because if he was going to tell, he would’ve by now,” he said. “I’m not going to murder a seventeen-year-old kid just because you think it’ll make you feel better. Because I assure you, it won’t. You’ll deal with the guilt of his death for the rest of your life, and I have enough people to worry about right now.”

Carmine stared at his father. “Like
him
?”

He nodded. “Yes.
Him
.”

“So you haven’t figure out how to deal with
him
?”

“I’m just delaying the inevitable, hoping when the time comes I do the right thing… whatever that may be.”

“You know, I could probably guess who—”

“Don’t even go down that path, Carmine Marcello,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

Carmine nodded, but there was no way he could stop thinking about it. “There are only so many people you’d be afraid of, though.”

Vincent lost his cool as he stood up, shoving his chair back and pointing at the door. “Get out.”

Carmine walked out. His father slammed the door behind him, the noise so loud he flinched. Dominic came strolling down the steps then, his arm around an exhausted Tess. “What did you do to piss Dad off this time?”

Carmine sighed. “The usual.”

Dominic shook his head. “Well, cheer up, bro. I did a little research and I think I might know how to get Dad’s tracking software to freeze. He’ll catch on when her chip isn’t moving, but it’ll take him some time to get it back in working order.”

“You’d really do that for me?” he asked.

“Yeah, man. Anything to give you two a chance.”

Tess shook her head. “You’re idiots. Dr. DeMarco’s going to be furious when he finds out.”

“Fuck him,” Carmine said. “He has no business chipping her.”

“Maybe he has a good reason,” Tess said. “Maybe he knows what he’s doing.”

“And maybe you’re a bitch.”

Tess lunged at Carmine, but Dominic jumped between them before she could strike. He dragged his girlfriend down the steps while Carmine just smiled, grateful his brother was being so supportive. He headed back up to the third floor, relieved, and nearly collided with Haven at the top of the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?”

“I didn’t know where you went,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. He felt guilty that she looked so nervous, and he reached up, pulling her lip from between her teeth.

“Where I’ve been doesn’t matter. All that matters is where I am now.” He scanned her. She had on a pair of his flannel pants, rolled up to stay on, and his football shirt. It was the same thing she’d had on that very first day in the kitchen. “You know, you look good in my clothes, but how about we go take them back off?”

She gasped as he pulled her to his room. “Well, good morning.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely about to be a good morning,” he said playfully. “And a good afternoon. And a good evening, if I’m lucky.”

They made love quietly on-and-off all afternoon, careful not to be overheard. She sprawled out in the bed beside him after a while, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. The blanket barely covered her bottom half, leaving her back exposed. He stared at her skin, wishing she’d never gotten any of those marks. He wished she’d never had to experience pain, and he hated those fucking scars, but on the other hand, they showed her strength. They were a part of her, and to him, there was nothing ugly about her.

She deserved more than what she had, and Carmine couldn’t wait to give it to her. To give her a real life where she was free. Free of her imaginary chains, free of heartache, free of danger. Just… free.

He traced the word with his finger over her scarred back.
Free
. It was all that mattered to him.

Chapter 33

“You’re going to die.”

Those four words cracked the silence that had enveloped the room. Vincent fought back the urge to balk at the statement, instead keeping his calm disposition. It wasn’t like it was something he hadn’t already thought to himself dozens of times, but hearing it verbalized in that cold, emotionless voice made it more real.

He glanced in the direction the words had come and met Corrado’s piercing eyes, so dark Vincent couldn’t differentiate between the pupil and the iris. They were the same eyes dozens had looked into their last moments on earth, eyes that could break even the hardest of men. They were the eyes of a murderer, a man who could reach inside his coat, pull out his .22 caliber Ruger Mark II pistol, and put a bullet into Vincent before he even realized what was happening. More importantly, they were the eyes of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he felt it was necessary.

“I know,” Vincent said, keeping his voice even despite his anxiety. He was taking a risk, but he was running out of time. Every scenario seemed impossible for him to pull off on his own.

It was the first of June, and tomorrow Dominic would graduate from high school. Out of everything Vincent had done in life, Dominic felt like his greatest accomplishment. Just the fact that his eldest son had survived intact and was setting off on a path that didn’t resemble the one he’d walked down at his age made Vincent feel as if he’d done something right. There was something he hadn’t destroyed, someone’s life he hadn’t ruined.

But his pride was being shattered by another event, one that had forced him to finally break his silence. In two very short days, Carmine would turn eighteen.

His youngest son would finally be emancipated in the eyes of the law, and outside forces were already threatening to take his life away.

Vincent hoped Carmine had no intention of getting involved in
la famiglia
, but he knew things changed in the blink of an eye. The Don wanted the
Principe
, a puppet he could mold into a cold, calculating soldier. Sal wasn’t above manipulation, and Vincent was afraid of what he’d do to get his hands on Carmine.

Corrado and Celia had flown in for Dominic's graduation and to celebrate Carmine’s birthday. The kids had gotten up before dawn to head to Asheville for the afternoon, and Celia was upstairs, purposely giving the two men some space.

“She doesn’t look like a
Principessa
,” Corrado said.

“I had the same thought.”

“But you’re positive of it.”

“Absolutely.”

“I always suspected there was more to that girl,” Corrado said. “It never made sense that Frankie would put a hit out on your wife just because she was interested in his granddaughter. Sure, he treated the girl horribly, but it wasn’t worth going to such extreme measures to cover it up. But this… this is worth killing over.”

Vincent cringed. Corrado noticed his reaction and clarified. “I’m not saying she should’ve died. You know how I feel about that. I still, to this day, wish I would’ve done more when Maura came to me, but I never thought Antonelli could be so heinous.”

“None of us did.”

Corrado looked away from him. “It’s hard to believe she’s one of our own. Not saying I don’t believe you, because I do. It’s just surreal to discover, after all of these years, that the little slave girl is Joseph and Federica’s granddaughter. That their baby survived and ended up in Antonelli’s care. What are the odds they’d be related to…?”

“Salvatore,” Vincent said, completing his thought.

Corrado shook his head. “He has surviving family, after all.”

So many people had been lost in the chaos in the ‘70s, a lot of bodies never recovered. It started with one man making a spectacle of the lifestyle and escalated to a clash that spread throughout the country. It became about revenge and bloodshed, men going against everything the organizations stood for in the name of vengeance. The same families that had sworn to protect women and children were so blinded by hatred they took it out on the innocent.

Joseph Russo had been discovered buried in a cornfield in Idaho years later. Antonio sent men out looking for Federica, hoping she’d gone undercover with their baby, Carla. But a bundle was dropped off on the doorstep of an associate’s club one night, human bones wrapped in a pink baby blanket with the initials C.R. monogrammed in the corner. There was no DNA in those days, no way to tell who was who, but everyone believed it then. They knew it then. Federica and the baby were dead.

Obviously, they’d all been wrong.

“I knew you were hiding something, but I never imagined it would be this,” Corrado said. “The odds of that woman turning out to be Sal’s dead niece are about as likely as Jimmy Hoffa showing up tomorrow on the corner of Lincoln Avenue and Orchard Street.”

“I’m inclined to believe anything’s possible now.”

“True,” Corrado said. “They all disappeared around the same time. I’ll be on the lookout for Hoffa whenever I’m in the neighborhood now.”

His tone was serious, so Vincent couldn't be sure if he were joking or not. He usually couldn’t with Corrado and didn't dare laugh either way. There was nothing funny about this situation.

“So whoever killed them gave Carla to the Antonelli's, and Frankie took the child knowing who she was. He ordered the wife of a fellow
Mafioso
murdered to retain his secret, because he knew what he’d done would be an automatic death sentence if discovered by Sal,” he said, summing up in a few seconds what had taken Vincent an hour to stumble through.

“As it would be for me.”

“Yes.”

“You do understand why I’ve done what I’ve done, right?” Vincent asked. “You understand why I couldn’t turn the girl over to him.”

“We wouldn’t still be sitting here if some part of me didn’t,” Corrado said. “The fallout would be disastrous. Not only would you be killed on principle, but her life would also be in danger. Squint’s set upon inheriting the dynasty, banking on the fact that he’s the closest thing the Don has left to a relative. Carmine’s in enough danger because of Sal’s interest in him. Adding the girl to the equation would only jeopardize them both further.”

“Not to mention what all of this would mean for the organization,” Vincent said. “They never did determine who killed Joseph and Federica, or what they even did with her body. Sal would go on a rampage, and we have enough problems right now.”

“He’d start another war,” Corrado said. “We’d all be in danger.”

“I know. I’m not worried about myself, Corrado. I just don’t want either of those kids to be taken down by this.”

“So you want
Principe
and
Principessa
to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after? That’s not asking for too much, right?” he asked, his voice hard. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but this is the real world, Vincent. I have a greater chance of getting you out of this than I do of keeping both of them unscathed. I honestly don’t know what you expect of me.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything. I just—”

Corrado cut him off. “You’re getting soft. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I don’t like it. You claim you aren’t trying to involve me, but you’ve done so from day one by involving my wife.”

“I didn’t intend—”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t intend it, but I would’ve thought you, of all people, would understand. You lost your wife to this, and now you’re putting me in the same situation! For someone who grieved so wholly, you surely didn’t hesitate to set me up to endure the same. I want nothing more than to refuse your request right now, but I can’t. I have no choice but to help you attempt to salvage some lives, even though it goes against everything I’ve sworn myself to, because it’s the only way to protect Celia.” He stared at him pointedly. “This girl better be worth it to you.”

“She was to Maura.”

Corrado rubbed his face with frustration. “The things we do for women. What possessed you to even run her DNA in the first place? You know who her parents are.”

Vincent sighed. “I wanted to get her a green card.”

“A green card?” he asked incredulously.