Sempre (Forever Series #1)(73)

He blanched. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t suggesting you’d like it because it was stupid or because you’re stupid.” He groaned. “Not that you’re stupid, because you aren’t. That didn’t come out right. You know I don’t think that. You’d have to be f**king stupid not to see you’re smart.” He paused. “I should probably shut up now.”

The corner of her lips turned up as she leaned back against him. “Thank you.”

“For knowing when to shut up?”

She laughed. “No, for always thinking about my feelings. I know that’s not something you’re used to doing. I’ve never had someone look out for me before.”

“I’ll always do what’s best for you, Haven,” he said. “I’ve thought about it a lot, you know. After I turn eighteen and can access my trust fund, we could disappear together and get away from all of this bullshit. Probably couldn’t take the Mazda, though, since it has a GPS chip in it.”

“A GPS chip,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Carmine looked at his watch. “You wanna head home?”

She nodded. They climbed into the car, and he put it in gear, driving down the small road toward the highway as Haven looked out the side window at the trees lining the road.

“What’s wrong?” She was being too silent.

“I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I was chipped, too.”

He looked at her with confusion, turning down the music in the car. “What do you mean?”

“Like your car—a GPS chip.”

Carmine slammed the brakes as soon as the words registered, the car skidding to a stop with a loud squeal. Haven braced her hands against the dash, eyes wide with shock.

“There’s a tracking chip on you? Where?”

“It’s in me,” she said. “Under my skin.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Your father chipped you like a dog?”

She shook her head. “My father didn’t do it. Yours did.”

He blinked a few times. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. He stuck the needle into my back. He also scraped my cheek with some kind of cotton swab. I don’t know why, but he did it. He said I can never escape. It’s impossible.”

Carmine’s stomach sank. He was going to be sick.

* * *

Vincent stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor of the Belden Stratford Hotel and strolled toward his room at the end of the hall. The dim lighting was easy on his tired eyes. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten a good night’s sleep, his hectic schedule taking a toll on him.

Jet-lagged, he was looking forward to having some down time. The next ten hours of his schedule were uncharacteristically clear, and he had no intention of doing anything but lying in bed. He was sick of traveling. Sick of working. Sick of talking. Sick of thinking. He wanted, for once, to savor a bit of peace.

The moment he stepped into his hotel room, the phone in his pocket rang. He looked at the clock—six in the morning.

He pulled out his phone, too exhausted to deal with business, and was surprised to see it was Carmine. Vincent sat down on the edge of the bed. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to be up, son?”

Carmine sighed. “It’s called insomnia, remember? I never sleep.”

Vincent knew the feeling well. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said. “Can’t I call my father to wish him a happy new year?”

Vincent was surprised. Carmine had certainly never called for casual conversation before. “Happy new year to you, too. Did you all have a nice night?”

“It was okay, I guess.”

“No fighting?”

“No, I didn’t send anyone to the hospital.”

“Good,” he said, yawning. The sky outside was starting to lighten as dawn approached. “What are you guys going to do today?”

“I don’t know,” Carmine said, “but I guess you’ll be able to tell later. You know, because of the tracking chip in Haven.”

The words went straight over Vincent’s head. It took a minute for them to sink in. “She told you about that?”

“She may have mentioned it,” he said. “She also may have said you swabbed her cheek. She isn’t, like, our cousin or something, is she? Illegitimate child? Were you f**king around on Mom?”

Vincent sighed. “Of course not. There’s no blood relation.”

“Okay, whatever. I was just curious.”

Vincent closed his eyes. His son was on to him.

Peace was fleeting once again.

26

The first week of January swiftly passed as the boys headed back to school. Haven lay in bed for a while that Friday morning before strolling into the library. Glancing toward the stairs, she gasped and grabbed her chest. Dr. DeMarco stood in front of her with his arms crossed.

He had been in Chicago all week, so he was the last person she expected to see. She stared at him, wondering when he’d gotten home, but more curious as to what he was doing on the third floor. There was a part of her—the part that would never forget what he did—that screamed something wasn’t right. She searched for some hidden emotion and saw a flicker of aggravation in his eyes.