Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(39)

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”

“Oh, I know plenty. I read the journal, remember?”

“You invaded her privacy! You stole her thoughts!”

“So?” he replied. “It doesn’t make any of it less true.”

“Maybe,” Vincent countered, “but tell me something, Agent Cerone. Do you have any deep, dark secrets that you’d do anything to keep the world from finding out? Even kill to keep it from being exposed?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Vincent said. “I’m just trying to make you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you have to leave her alone,” Vincent said, taking a step forward again, getting right in the special agent’s face. “You won’t get her. You can’t have her.”

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” Vincent’s eyes instinctively darted toward the dirt path. “. . . Because if you do, she’ll die.”

Agent Cerone stared at him blankly. “Now that’s a threat.”

“No, it’s not.” Vincent shook his head as he turned away from the man, wiping the stray raindrops from his face. “But it is a guarantee.”

* * *

“You really want to do this?”

Haven stood beside the Mazda later that week, staring down at the faded lines of the parking lot. She could feel Corrado’s piercing eyes from the other side of the car, stabbing through her with his doubt. He looked exhausted, but judgment was clear in his tone. He didn’t believe she could do it.

“Yes,” she replied. “I do.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I can make alternate plans if you’re not sure about this. I have the resources to keep you hidden away.”

“No, I’m sure.” She shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to drop out of civilization again. There was no point going forward if she couldn’t live. “I want to go. It’s my choice, right?”

“Right,” he said, still staring at her with skeptical eyes. “I guess we’ll be leaving then.”

Haven avoided his gaze as she climbed into the passenger side of the car. All of her belongings were in boxes stacked along the back seat, her entire life once again packed up in the car. She had left a note on the kitchen table for Dia whenever she got home, saying her good-byes. She didn’t say where she was going, no other explanation except she thought it was time for her to set out on her own. She promised to stay in touch but as Corrado pulled the car out on the road, heading toward the highway to leave Charlotte, she wondered just how plausible their friendship could be.

“You might want to get comfortable,” Corrado said. “It’s a long drive.”

“How long?”

“Twelve hours, maybe.”

She settled back into the seat and turned her head to gaze out of the window. “The trip to California last year took three days.”

14

Carmine stood in a dank hallway, leaning against the wall beside a door. It was cracked open, the flimsy wood barely hanging on its rusted hinges. Muffled screams of agony rang out of the apartment, keeping Carmine locked in place. Whatever was going on inside of there, he didn’t want to see it.

The prepaid cell phone in his pocket vibrated with a message for the second time that day. He slowly pulled it out, not having to look to know who it was. Sal had given it to him so la famiglia could constantly be in touch, the name untraceable and messages safe from wiretaps. It had gone off for the first time less than an hour ago with nothing but an address. He had dressed, slipping out in the middle of the night, and ran the few blocks to where he was needed.

But getting there and going inside were two different things.

He glanced at the new message on the phone.

Where are you?

He started to type a reply when the apartment door was ripped open from the inside. It slammed into the wall and Carmine jumped as a man stepped out. He was short and husky, a stern expression on his round face and a pair of bolt cutters slung over his shoulder. He said nothing, stalking away as Salvatore stepped out behind him.

“There you are,” Sal said, eyeing Carmine.

“Yeah, I, uh . . . just got here.”

“Ah, well, you missed the fun!” Sal said. “It’s over now.”

“Damn.” Carmine slipped the phone back in his pocket, relief washing through him. “I got here as fast as I could, sir.”

“It’s all right, dear boy,” he replied, throwing his arm over Carmine’s shoulder. “You missed the demonstration, but you can still take notes.”

He pulled Carmine into the apartment before he could object.

The place was vacant of furniture, the old wooden floor covered in grime. Sal led him to the bathroom and Carmine froze in the doorway the moment he caught sight of the body in the bathtub. The man’s arm was slung over the side, his hand secured to the nearby sink with a pair of metal cuffs. He was stark nak*d and covered in blood, his brown eyes wide open and a look of sheer terror covering his pale face. Duct tape was wrapped around his head, completely covering his mouth.

A blue tarp carpeted the floor, catching the excess blood splatter, but most of it coated the bathtub and sink, the white porcelain wet with bright red. It smelled like metal, the sickening taste of copper tingling the back of his throat.