19
Two in the morning and Carmine couldn’t sleep. He slipped downstairs, jumping when his father appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. Carmine hadn’t expected anyone to be up at this hour, much less him. Vincent’s gaze followed Carmine as he brushed past him to get something to drink. “Insomnia?”
Carmine shrugged. “You could say that.”
“Is it nightmares again?”
“You could say that.” Carmine was annoyed he would bring that up, but he could see the genuine concern in his father’s expression. He didn’t want to dwell, though, so he quickly changed the subject. “So, why are you up?”
Vincent sighed. “I’m leaving for Chicago.”
“I didn’t know you had to go this weekend.”
“Neither did I until Sal called,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to fly out again until next weekend, but the trouble with the Russians is escalating.”
Carmine’s brow furrowed. “You have a problem with Russians?”
“We’ve had one for a while. They impede on our territory, which is something we can’t tolerate.”
Carmine was surprised he was telling him that much. His father wasn’t one to offer extra information. “Well, good luck with that, I guess.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back on Sunday night . . . hopefully.” He hesitated like he had something else to say but eventually shook his head. “Have a good weekend, son.”
Vincent left the kitchen. Carmine stood there, looking at the spot where his father had been standing. He chugged the last little bit of juice in his glass before heading upstairs, lying silently in bed and staring at the ceiling.
When Haven woke up the next morning, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Morning, bella ragazza. How about we get dressed and do something today?”
She smiled sleepily. “Like what?”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “We could go to the movies or the park, maybe get some dinner.”
He had no clue what people did. The closest he had ever been to a date before was going through a fast-food drive-through on the way to drop some girl off after sex. He wasn’t sure he could count even that, considering he usually made them buy their own food.
An odd expression flickered across her face. “In public?”
He laughed. “Yes, in public. With other people around, even.”
“Uh, okay.” She smiled excitedly. “I’ll get dressed.”
He let go of her and watched as she scampered away, amazed something as trivial as a movie could make her light up so much.
Carmine showered and sifted through his clothes, choosing a pair of faded jeans and a green long-sleeved button-up shirt, since green was her favorite color. He rolled up the sleeves, feeling stifled, and pulled on a pair of Nikes before grabbing his things. Heading out, he noticed Haven standing in the doorway of her room, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a blue sweater, fidgeting. “Do I look okay?”
“You look more than okay,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
Leading her downstairs, he helped Haven into the car and fiddled with his seat and mirrors for a few minutes. Haven giggled. “Finicky.”
He rolled his eyes and started the car, scanning through radio stations as Haven stared out the side window, a small smile playing on her lips. They held hands and chatted about nothing in particular during the drive. She never ceased to amaze him with her knowledge about things she had never experienced.
He drove straight to his favorite Mexican restaurant and slowed to pull into the parking lot until his gaze fell on a white car. He accelerated again to pass the place, knowing they couldn’t eat there if Lisa was working. He pulled into a steakhouse about a block away and shut off the engine as Haven turned to him. “You knew someone there, didn’t you?”
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t wanna be seen with you, because I do. It’s just, it’s Lisa, and she—”
Haven placed her pointer finger against his lips. “I understand.”
They were quickly seated in the restaurant, and Haven picked up the laminated menu, her brow furrowing and lips moving as she sounded out the words. When the waitress came to take their orders, Haven looked at Carmine, expecting him to speak for her, but he just sat patiently.
She got the hint. “I’ll have the stuffed chicken breast with a side salad, please.”
Carmine smirked. “A twelve-ounce New York strip steak for me.”
“How do you want it?” the waitress asked.
“Rare,” he said. “Barely cooked.”
Haven gazed at him peculiarly when the waitress walked away. “I didn’t know you like it that way. I always cook your meat well done.”
“Yeah, two things in life I prefer bloody—my steak and my enemies.”
She shook her head. “You’re too young to have enemies.”
“I wish,” he muttered. “I was born with enemies. My last name alone gives me more than I could ever earn.”
It only took a few minutes for their food to be brought out. Carmine expected things to be edgy since she wasn’t often around people, but she surprised him again. He wondered if there would ever be a time when she didn’t.
He paid the bill before they headed across town to the movie theater. The two of them stood on the outskirts of the waiting crowd, and Carmine took Haven’s hand as he scanned the list of movies. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I don’t really know much about any of them.”
“Well, there’s one about a drugged-up rock star, one about a family with a whole bunch of kids, and one about some kids who get sucked into a game.” She looked at him with confusion on the last one, and he chuckled. “Don’t ask. There’s also some chick flick.”
“Chick flick?”
“Yeah, you know, the lovey-dovey romantic sharing bullshit.”
She laughed. “Any of them are fine by me.”
He led her up to the window and bought two tickets. At the concession stand, he bought a soda and a box of Sour Patch Kids before leading Haven into the packed theater. She hesitated, glancing around, and it dawned on him that this was her first time. It was easy for him to forget sometimes that she was still new to the world and hadn’t experienced the things he took for granted. He squeezed her hand, trying to be reassuring, and chose a seat near the exit in case she felt the need to escape.
She relaxed as he pushed the armrest out of the way and pulled her close to him. The theater finished filling as it significantly darkened. Haven tensed at the thunderous noise coming from the speakers but relaxed again by the time the movie started. He popped a few Sour Patch Kids into his mouth, and Haven eyed the candy before pulling out a piece. Her face contorted as soon as it hit her tongue, and he chuckled. “It’s sour, huh?”
“Yes, but it’s good.”
She took a couple more and watched the movie intently while Carmine spent most of the time focusing on her. They shared the soda and munched on the candy like it was no big deal, but to both of them, it was. Carmine was giving, and Haven had no qualms taking from him.
He felt no anger as she snatched a piece of candy right from his hand, only pride that she had grown so brave. Her guard was down, and little by little, Carmine felt himself cracking too.
He took her hand when the credits rolled, and the two of them slipped out of the theater before everyone else. Haven enthusiastically chatted the entire way home. He had no clue what she was talking about, but he smiled anyway, her happiness making him content.
Nine men. Nine guns. Almost ninety bullets. One delivery truck full of electronics.
This wasn’t how Vincent had expected to spend his Saturday night.
They were outnumbered two to one. A run-of-the-mill Glock was pointed at Vincent’s chest while he stared down the barrel of a Beretta. The hand of the man holding the Glock shook, telling Vincent he was nervous. For that reason, Vincent chose to aim his revolver at the other one. If Vincent had learned anything, it was that a man with a steady hand wouldn’t hesitate to pull a trigger.
Corrado stood a few feet away, in the midst of a showdown with Ivan Volkov. The two men glared, neither one moving or speaking, with their guns pointed at each other’s heads. Corrado seemed unaware of everyone else around them. Vincent wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Giovanni held his ground despite the armed men zeroing in on him. The box truck idled, the cramped alley filling with the thick, suffocating fumes. It burned Vincent’s nose and distorted his vision, but he fought to keep his focus. They had been called out by Sal a few minutes earlier, saying a truck Giovanni’s crew had hijacked on the east side of the city was stolen from them by thugs. They had tracked it down, expecting to find amateurs, but came head-to-head with the Russians again.
The man with the Glock was the first to crack. He lowered his weapon and frantically took a step back. Shaking his head, he wordlessly ran out of the alley.
One by one they surrendered, their lack of loyalty astounding. They fled, leaving the three of them with an unruffled Volkov. There was no fear in his expression, no concern in his eyes, no surprise that his men had abandoned their posts.
They were nothing like the Italians. If one of them abandoned la famiglia, they wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.
After a moment, Volkov lowered his gun and slipped it into his coat. “You may have the truck,” he said, as though he was simply being gracious under the circumstances.
He tried to walk away, but Corrado stepped in his path. “Next time I see you, I’m going to kill you.”
Volkov paused. “Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a guarantee.”
A tense second passed, then another, and another. Finally, Volkov’s stone-cold face flickered with the hint of a smile. “I look forward to our next meeting, Moretti.”
Haven sat cross-legged on Carmine’s bed, The Secret Garden open in her lap. Carmine strolled through his room and kicked a schoolbook lying on the floor, stubbing his toe. He yelped as he grabbed his foot and plopped down on the bed beside her, the jarring losing her place. Before she could find it again, the book closed as Carmine pulled it from her hands. For a second, irritation flared inside her at the interruption, but it faded when he laid his head in her lap.
She ran her hand across his cheek, gazing down at him with a smile as he spoke. “My bedroom needs cleaned.”
She jolted them both with her laughter. “Yes, it does.”
Haven ran her fingers through his hair, and he sighed contently. “Tomorrow. Cleaning can wait.”
“I look forward to it.”
He chuckled. “You should be terrified.”
The two of them drifted into a light sleep, but when Haven awoke later, she was alone. She slipped out of the bedroom, surprised to find the library empty, and made her way downstairs to search for Carmine.
The house was eerily silent, but on the first floor she heard the faint sound of music, the haunting dark melody laced with sadness. She walked slowly toward the family room, spotting Carmine sitting at the piano. His posture matched the song, his body collapsing in on itself, and the music grew louder as he furiously pressed the keys.
