Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(64)

“Vincent.”

Vincent looked over as Corrado strolled down the alley toward him. His suit was wrinkled, his eyes tired, and a small gift box wrapped in bright green paper was tucked under his arm. “You missed the wedding, Corrado.”

“I know,” he said. “I just got back from New York.”

“Business?” Vincent asked. “Amaro family? Geneva? Calabrese?”

Corrado shook his head. “More like Antonelli.”

Vincent’s brow creased. “Haven?”

“No reason for concern,” Corrado said, dismissing his inquisitive look as he looked around the dingy alley, shifting the present to under the other arm. His eyes settled upon the brick wall behind Vincent. “It was right here.”

“Yeah, it was.”

It was in that spot, more than a decade earlier, when Vincent’s world violently collapsed. He felt the pressure of it pressing on him, the memory weighing him down. Whenever he blinked, in that split second when blackness took over, drowning out his senses, he could still see it—ashy pale skin, lifeless eyes, copper colored hair drenched in red. Terror coated her face, a horrifying mask of questions with no answers . . .

Why her? Why them? Why now?

They were things he had wondered for years, things he thought he had figured out when he murdered Frankie Antonelli. But standing there, the questions still lingered.

Why?

“It’s peculiar, isn’t it?” Corrado asked. “The thirst for revenge? It’s easy to dismiss the things we do, but it’s impossible to forget the things done to us. We never think about their families, but when it’s ours, we never get over it. We carry that grudge forever.”

“I think about them,” Vincent said. “I always consider their families.”

“Did you think about Frankie’s?”

Vincent hesitated. “No. I was only thinking about mine back then, but I do now. Every day.”

“That doesn’t count,” Corrado said. “The only relative he has left is Haven, and I assure you she isn’t grieving that loss.”

Vincent thought that over. “You’ve honestly never considered their families?”

“Never,” Corrado said, staring at him pointedly. “My conscience is clear, Vincent. I carry no regret, and I don’t want to start now. It’s why, with God as my witness, I’ll never pull the trigger unless I’m absolutely certain the world is a better place without them.”

“You’re lucky,” Vincent said. “Every time I think I clear my conscience, something else comes about.”

“That’s because you’re letting yourself be a pawn.”

A bitter laugh forced itself from Vincent’s chest. “I was just thinking about the day my father told me to be a king and not a pawn. But he failed to tell me there could only be one king. The rest of us, well . . . we can only do what we can do.”

“You’re missing the point,” Corrado said. “Being the king isn’t always about having the title. Sometimes the title is a ruse. You want control? You need the upper hand, but you never let them see you have it until you’re ready to make your move.”

“And what if the only moves I have left break the rules?”

He shrugged. “Depends on whose rules you break.”

Corrado took a step back and nodded before strolling away.

After he was gone, Vincent turned back to the building, running his hand along the crumbling brick once more. “I’ll see you later, Maura. Ti amo.”

Vincent strolled out of the alley and down the block toward the pizzeria. John Tarullo stood outside the front door, sweeping the large welcome mat with a cornhusk broom. He glanced up, nodding stiffly in greeting. “Dr. DeMarco, I hear you have a son getting married today.”

“Yes. Dominic.”

“I hear he’s a good kid.”

“He is,” Vincent replied. “Both of my sons are good kids.”

Tarullo looked at him warily, raising his eyebrows. “I hear your Carmine is friends with my Remy.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad kids,” Vincent said. “Maybe just a little misguided. I was the same way, and you wouldn’t call me bad, would you?”

“No,” he said at once, but Vincent could see the truth in the man’s eyes. Yes, yes, an unadulterated hell yes.

Vincent let out a laugh as he walked away.

* * *

Carmine sipped his drink, lounging in the white wicker chair as he listened to his friends and family chatter on. He relaxed, almost enjoying himself for once, until a gruff throat cleared right behind him.

He stiffened at the sound.

“This is for you two,” Corrado said as he reached across the table, holding a box wrapped in shiny green paper. Carmine turned to face his uncle, who looked exhausted but otherwise fine. “I apologize I missed the ceremony, but I had unexpected business.”

“Thanks, Unk,” Dominic said as he took the gift. “It’s understandable.”

Corrado walked away without even looking at Carmine. Carmine watched as he approached Celia, motioning for her to follow him. Corrado’s eyes darted around nervously and Carmine’s heart pounded rapidly when Dominic’s voice rang out. “Twinkle Toes.”