Sempre (Forever Series #1)(48)

Vincent’s blood ran cold at the question. “He’s fine.”

“Is he doing well in school? Passing?”

“He’s squeaking by. Still skipping a lot.”

Sal laughed. “Doesn’t surprise me. This business, la famiglia, is in that boy’s blood. And that’s everything, you know. Famiglia. That’s what matters.”

Vincent had nothing nice to say about that, but Sal didn’t wait for a response. Reaching into his coat, Sal pulled out a thick manila envelope and held it out to Vincent. “Give this to Principe for me. A little something from his godfather.”

Begrudgingly, Vincent took it before heading to his car. Once inside, he shoved the envelope of cash into his glove compartment. He had no intention of giving it to his son.

* * *

Haven took a seat at the library window while Carmine grabbed his guitar, joining her. Wordlessly, she picked up a book from the small table between them. Carmine smiled when he saw it was The Secret Garden. “So you haven’t given up on that?”

“No,” she said, opening it to a page about a quarter of the way in. “It’s good. She searches for the garden and makes friends with this little robin. It reminds me of . . .”

She trailed off as Carmine plucked the strings of his guitar, random notes sounding out in the room. “Reminds you of what?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

“It reminds me of when I was little and talked to the animals,” she said. “They had a few dogs, but it was mainly horses. I stayed in the stables with them.”

Caught off guard, his finger plucked the wrong string. They both cringed from the sharp note. “You slept with the f**king horses?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t so bad. They kept me company.”

His jaw clenched as he held back his temper. She could say it wasn’t bad if she wanted, but Carmine couldn’t think of a more inhumane scenario.

He continued to strum his guitar, playing around with sounds as she quietly read. Her eyes would occasionally drift over the top of the book, settling on him. “Can I ask you something, Carmine?”

“Of course you can.”

“Why did you shoot at Nicholas last year?”

Another sharp note rang out. Of all the things she could ask, she wanted to talk about Nicholas? “We had a falling-out after I messed around with his sister. He got mad and ran his mouth, said something about my mom, and I snapped.”

“Your mama?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s in Chicago?”

He sighed. “Hillside.”

“What’s she doing there?”

He hesitated. “Nothing. She’s gone.”

“You mean like . . . dead?”

Carmine cringed at the word and nodded.

He played again as Haven went back to her book. He felt no judgment, no disappointment, no pressure to explain. It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much he craved that acceptance. She’d changed him. He wasn’t sure how, but he felt different. He was Maura’s son again, and not so much Vincent DeMarco’s heir.

* * *

“Look at the Suburban.”

Corrado’s voice was nonchalant, but Vincent knew better than to believe he wasn’t on alert. He waited a few seconds before turning, seeing the black Chevy Suburban parked along the curb half a block away.

The darkly tinted windows obstructed the inside view, but Vincent could manage a guess or two at who was there. “FBI, you think? Doesn’t seem like locals.”

“Anything’s possible,” Corrado said. “FBI, DOJ, CIA . . .”

Vincent shook his head. “What did you do to have the CIA working on a Saturday night?”

“You never know,” Corrado said. “Maybe they’re looking to recruit me.”

Vincent laughed, although he wouldn’t put it past them. Wouldn’t be the first time the government showed up, wanting to exchange services.

“They were parked near the club this morning,” Corrado said. “Then at the restaurant tonight.”

“And you’re just now pointing them out to me?”

“You should’ve spotted them yourself.”

“You don’t think it’s someone like the Irish, do you? Russians?”

“No, it’s law enforcement.”

“Must be a rookie on his first stakeout,” Vincent said. “Or else they’re intentionally letting themselves be seen.”

“Either way, I’m offended. What do they take me for? An idiot who wouldn’t notice or a coward who would be intimidated?”

“Maybe they aren’t here for you,” Vincent said. “Maybe they’re watching me.”

Corrado shrugged. “It would make more sense.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the idiot who wouldn’t notice.”

If Vincent weren’t a mature man, and if his brother-in-law wouldn’t punch him for it, he would have certainly rolled his eyes then.

“I’ll tell Sal,” Corrado said. “If they’re lurking, we’ll want to take precautions.”

Corrado headed inside his house with a nod while Vincent strolled down the block. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket as he stepped onto the porch of the white two-story house, using the worn copper key to unlock the front door. The smell of mothballs was strong, dust tickling his nose when he stepped into the corridor. Heat wafted around him, the place muggy from being closed up for so long.