Sempre: Redemption (49 page)

“If you think I’m going to run out that door because of something you tell me, you’re wrong,” she said. “If you
can’t
tell me, I understand, but don’t hide things from me just because you believe it’s better if I don’t know them.”

“No good can come from you knowing,” he said. “You’ll look at me and you won’t see
me
anymore. You’ll see
them
. You’ll see the people I’ve hurt and the things I’ve done, so excuse me if I sorta fucking like you seeing
just
me.”

She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated briefly, leaning her elbows on the table and moving closer to Carmine. “Have you had to, uh . . . ?”

“Kill?” he asked, finishing her question. She glanced around anxiously to make sure no one was listening before nodding. He could see the curiosity in her eyes, but he could also see the apprehension. That was something he never wanted from her. “Would it make a difference?”

“No,” she said. “If you did, I know it’s because you had to.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“I just want to know.”

“No.”

She looked at Carmine cautiously. “You aren’t going to tell me?”

He sighed. “That’s the answer, Haven. No.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a moment, appearing deep in thought. “Is that what you see when you look in the mirror? The people you’ve hurt?”

“It’s hard to see the good when there’s so much damn bad.”

“I see the good.” She smiled softly as she gazed at Carmine. “It might help you to talk to someone, though. You shouldn’t keep it all bottled in.”

“I’m still not going to tell you that shit,” he replied, shaking his head.

“I know,” she said. “I meant, like, a professional.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting I go to a shrink?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I know there are some things you can’t tell them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t help at all. I saw a movie where a mobster guy went to a psychiatrist, and so did that other one in that TV show. He was the boss, too.”

Carmine smirked when it struck him what she had said. He tried to contain his amusement, but his laughter escaped when a blush overtook Haven’s face. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed,” he said, reaching across the table and cupping her cheek. It was warm against his palm and she leaned into his touch, smiling sheepishly. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but this isn’t like TV,
tesoro
. We can’t do that shit in real life.”

He stroked her cheek softly as she whispered, “I wish you could.”

“Me, too.”

The sun had set by the time they left the coffee shop, darkness surrounding everything. He held her hand as they strolled through the parking lot toward the car, the atmosphere between them light once again. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest, his world just a tad brighter since she had walked back into it.

The carefree feeling didn’t last, though—not that he had actually expected it to. They made it back to his house and he asked if she wanted to watch a movie, but they barely made it through the opening credits before his phone rang.

He pulled it out hesitantly, tensing.
Corrado
. “Sir?”

“Be in front of my house in five minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” he grumbled, but responding was pointless because Corrado had already hung up. He slipped the phone back in his pocket and looked at Haven, running his hand through his hair anxiously.

“You have to go,” she said quietly, a tinge of sadness in her voice, but she forced a smile. “I understand.”

She started to stand but he grabbed her arm to stop her. “Don’t leave.”

She looked at Carmine with confusion. “What?”

“I just . . . fuck. Just stay, okay?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s late. I should find a hotel.”

He groaned loudly, the noise sounding like a growl. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do. If you want to go,
tesoro,
by all means go, but I’d rather you stay.”

“I, uh . . .” she started, but she trailed off when his phone rang again.

Five minutes had already passed.

Carmine cursed, answering it quickly. “I’m coming, sir.”

“
Now
,” Corrado barked before hanging up.

Carmine stood, eyeing Haven carefully. ”Just . . . wait for me, okay?”

She didn’t say a word but she also made no move to leave, so he wasn’t sure what she was thinking. He didn’t have time to stick around and figure it out, though, so he gave her one last look before grabbing his gun and bolting for the door. He stepped outside as a memory hit him, the last time he had said those words to her running through his mind.

She had refused to wait for him that day.

He glanced behind him at the house as he headed down the street, hoping like hell she would wait this time.

C
armine’s phone was ringing again by the time he reached Corrado’s, but he didn’t bother answering it since he was so close. Corrado’s car was parked along the curb, the headlights blacked out but engine running. Carmine climbed in the passenger side and gave his uncle a cautious glance, seeing the look of impatience on his face, and tensed in anticipation of him snapping. Corrado closed his phone and Carmine’s instantly stopped ringing, but he didn’t say a word.

Corrado pulled away and sped down the street, waiting until he was a block away before flipping on his headlights. Carmine surveyed his uncle, noticing he wore his black leather gloves, and instantly knew something serious was happening.

“I hope you had a nice time with Haven tonight,” Corrado said, shattering the tense silence.

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Carmine replied. “Thank you for everything you did for her. She told me about it all.”

“No reason to thank me,” he said coolly. “I was only doing the job that was given to me, Carmine. That’s what we do. Personal feelings are irrelevant. We follow orders and one thing you should know about me by now—one thing I hope you respect me for—is the fact that I don’t fail when I take on a task.
Ever
.”

Carmine nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. And I didn’t want to interrupt your evening, but it’s time.”

Carmine eyed him warily, wondering what
time
it was, but Corrado didn’t elaborate and Carmine knew better than to question him.

A bad feeling seeped into Carmine’s bones as Corrado drove without saying another word toward a rough area in the south side of Chicago. It was fairly deserted except for the occasional scraggly passersby, the street aligned on both sides with condemned buildings covered in graffiti. It was gang territory, the part of town where they battled for control of corners no one really
wanted
in the first place. They killed one another for the fuck of it, for the right to rule the forsaken streets.

The fact that they were there, moving deeper into the midst of gangland territory, didn’t sit well with Carmine. He reached under his shirt and felt his gun secured in his waistband, his thumb flicking the safety off just in case.

“Do the thugs in this neighborhood scare you?” Corrado asked, noticing his movement.

“No,” he replied. “I just know anyone who comes to this side of town is up to no good.”

“True,” Corrado responded, pausing before adding, “It’ll be over quick.”

His cryptic words sent Carmine’s heart pounding furiously. They neared the end of the main street and took a left onto another narrow road, stopping halfway down. Corrado cut the engine and opened his door, hesitating as he glanced at Carmine. “Leave your gun in the car. You seem to have an itchy trigger finger tonight.”

“Excuse me?” Something was off, Carmine could sense it, and being unprotected was as good as asking to be killed.

“You heard what I said,” Corrado said. “Don’t question me.”

Carmine grabbed the gun and shoved it in the glove box. He had to do it. Corrado would have taken it.

Carmine followed Corrado across the street to a run-down house. It looked like it hadn’t been inhabited in decades, the shutters barely hanging by their hinges and old wooden boards nailed up along the windowpanes, the glass long gone. They stepped on the porch and Corrado knocked twice on the large door. Before he could knock a third time, it opened. Corrado walked in and Carmine followed him cautiously, his eyes falling upon an Italian man right inside. He was about Corrado’s age and familiar, definitely a friend in the organization. He held a gun defensively, but he seemed to relax a bit when Corrado nodded at him.

Their silent exchange made Carmine feel queasy, the bad feeling nearly overpowering him.

He tried to sort through his thoughts to make sense of what was happening, briefly considering bolting back out the door while he still had the chance. He wondered how far he could get while unarmed, but such a train of thought was senseless. He would be caught before he even made it off the porch. He needed to stay calm, to play cool, and not let them see his fear, even if that was exactly what he felt.

He was fucking
terrified
.

Corrado grabbed his arm as he shut the front door, shoving Carmine toward the staircase that the man started up. No one said a word, no instructions given as Carmine begrudgingly climbed the creaky steps with Corrado on his trail. He felt like cattle being herded to the slaughterhouse as he followed the man down a long hallway.

They approached a room, and Carmine froze in horror as soon as he stepped in the doorway. Vision blurring, his knees went weak as fear slammed into him. He nearly collapsed but Corrado grabbed him, keeping him on his feet as he pushed him farther into the room.

The pieces of the puzzle clicked together in an instant. He should have sensed it earlier, should have known what was happening. The signs were all there. The look on Celia’s face . . . Corrado’s cryptic words . . . “You never know when you might only have a few hours left.” “I didn’t want to interrupt your evening, but it’s time . . .” “It’ll be over quick.”

The moment he told Carmine to leave the gun in the car, he should have known what he would find in the house: his demise.

As his green eyes met the pair of dark, cold muddy ones across the room, it made sense. Corrado told him not to worry about retaliation because the entire time he had planned to take him straight to Salvatore.

The Boss stood in the corner of the empty room, near a shattered window with a single board nailed over it. Moonlight filtered inside, giving Carmine barely enough light to see. Salvatore appeared disheveled, his right arm bandaged sloppily in a blue sling. He took a few steps in their direction, his movements rigid like he could no longer bend his left knee.

“About time,” his raspy voice called, his eyes trained on Carmine as the other man strolled to the window to gaze out.

“I apologize for being late, but you know how he can be,” Corrado said behind Carmine, blocking the only exit.

“Yes, I know
exactly
how he can be.” Salvatore’s voice seethed with anger. “He doesn’t listen. You tell him to do something and he ignores it. He seems to think he knows better than everyone else, like he’s above us all and doesn’t have to fall in line.”

“Well, he certainly
is
his father’s son,” Corrado said.

Carmine sensed something in his uncle’s voice, amusement with a hint of sarcasm. He started to turn around to look at him, to get a read on his mood, but Corrado grabbed the back of his neck roughly, keeping him in position.

Rage flashed in Salvatore’s expression at the mention of Vincent. He angrily spit on the floor with disgust, like just the thought of him made him sick.

Carmine shook, his eyes darting around the room. The sins of the father were about to be paid for by the son. His brain worked a million miles a minute as he tried to think of some way out. He was unarmed and outnumbered, everyone in the room more experienced than him.

“Looking for a way to escape?” Salvatore asked, slowly approaching. “Pity for you, there isn’t one.”

Corrado violently shoved him toward the ground, forcing him on his knees in the middle of the room. He let go of the back of his neck and withdrew his gun.

“Please don’t do this!” Carmine pleaded, the words tumbling from his mouth. “I swear, just . . . fuck! This isn’t necessary!”

Before he could say any more, Corrado shoved the muzzle of his gun against the back of Carmine’s skull. He closed his eyes, tears burning their way to the surface as he bowed his head in desperation.

If there’s a fucking God, He won’t let me die today.

“How dare you tell me what’s necessary!” Salvatore yelled. “This is what I was talking about! You think you know better than everyone! I gave you a simple order, and you had every opportunity to do it, but you disobeyed me! Vincent never would’ve hurt you, and now, because you betrayed me, my men are dead! Your father got what he deserved, and frankly so did your mother! Your entire family is a disgrace!”

Carmine fought back a sob, his body shaking violently at those words. His world was imploding and there was a gun pointed at the back of his head.

Corrado was a perfect shot. He
never
missed his target.

His uncle, his own fucking family . . .

“Please,” Carmine whispered. “Please don’t fucking do this.”

As soon as those words passed his lips, something slammed hard into the back of Carmine’s head. He fell forward onto his hands and knees, splinters of wood from the floorboards digging into his palms.

He knew he couldn’t give up. He couldn’t go down without a fight. He wouldn’t win, but he
wasn’t
a coward. He wouldn’t just stand there and let them steal his life. Maybe a month ago he would have, or even yesterday, but not now. Not today.

“Good-bye.”

The lone word slipping from Corrado’s lips set Carmine in motion. He dropped flat against the floor and rolled as a deafening bang sounded, the gunshot echoing in the room. He braced himself for a scorching bullet to tear into his flesh, but he felt nothing. No blood. No pain.

Adrenaline or sheer fucking luck?

Carmine forced himself to his feet and turned for the door when something across the room captured his attention. The man at the window dropped with a thump to the floor, blood pouring from a wound dead center in his forehead. Salvatore turned in horror as Corrado knocked Carmine to the floor again on his hands and knees. As he scurried away, Carmine watched in shock as Corrado used the distraction to swiftly reach into Salvatore’s waistband with his left hand and pull a pistol from it.