Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  The lone word nearly stopped Vincent’s heart. “She’s with the Russians? Why?”

  “Because she's one of ours. Isn't that reason enough?”

  “They know?”

  “Yes. They may have even known before we did,” Corrado said. “This is spiraling out of control, Vincent. Up until now, you've taken a backseat, but that can't happen anymore. This isn't going away.”

  Vincent knew that, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Where are the Russians keeping her?”

  “Joey didn’t know.”

  Vincent’s brow furrowed. “Joey? I thought his name was Johnny.”

  “Joey, Johnny… what’s the difference?” Corrado started walking away. “I took care of the body. You can clean up the mess.”

  Vincent headed back down to the basement, cautiously making his way to the safe room. The concrete floor was soaked in red, splatters of it even on the ceiling. He wasn't sure how Corrado managed to do that, but he didn't plan to ask.

  He’d learned long ago never to ask Corrado for details.

  * * * *

  Carmine stood by the window in the family room, the rain outside so heavy that he couldn’t see the tree line a few hundred yards away. He was in such a trance that he didn’t hear footsteps approaching from behind. He caught a glimpse of Corrado’s reflection in the glass and grabbed his chest, wincing as he turned around. “You scared me.”

  Corrado unbuttoned his soiled shirt. “You aren’t very observant.”

  “You’re just stealthy, like a fucking ninja or something.”

  Ninja. The moment he said it, he felt like he’d been slapped. Tears tried to force their way from his eyes, but he held them back in front of his uncle.

  “You watch too much television,” Corrado said. “The mark of a successful assassin is the target never knowing what hit them.”

  Carmine stared at hm. “I’m not a target, though,” he said. “At least I hope not.”

  The corner of Corrado’s lips tugged into a small smile as he lit the fireplace. After the fire started going, he tossed his shirt into it and watched it burn. “I remember when you and your mother went missing. A few of us were at your house, and you were late getting home. Vincent sent a car, but it came back empty. Driver said you were already gone. Despite your father’s fear that night, he maintained his composure and did what he had to do. He learned to wear that calm mask well, but I knew him better than most.”

  He poked around in the fire, the shirt already burned to ash. “While Vincent adapted to the life, I never understood Antonio’s insistence that he was cut out for it, just as I don’t understand Sal’s belief that you are. You’re cut from the same mold—too emotional, too invested in life on the outside. You have a lot of heart, and that can be dangerous in this business. People will exploit it for an upper hand, and both of you share a weakness.”

  “What’s that?”

  Corrado looked at him like it was a stupid question. “Your women, Carmine.”

  “Doesn’t everyone have that problem, though? It’s why your code of conduct says your women are off limits.”

  Corrado shook his head. “Most of them are incapable of loving anyone. Their wives are like their cars and their houses. They feel like they’ve earned them, they take care of them, they show them off, and they think everyone needs a good one, but if push comes to shove, they’d sell them out to save themselves.”

  “Is that how you feel?” Carmine asked hesitantly. “I always thought, you know, you and Celia…”

  “I do love Celia,” Corrado said. “But the difference is I can’t be manipulated, and everyone knows it. You two can, though. They used Maura to force your father to do their business, just as Haven will be used to get you to do what they want.”

  “You think that’s why they kept me alive?”

  “I’m sure of it. We’re all just pawns, Carmine, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll play right into their hands. Exposure isn’t good in our world. I hope, since you’re so much like Vincent, you’ll learn to put on that mask just as he did. I already helped him bury Maura. I don’t want to go through that again.” He turned to walk away. “Pack a bag. It looks suspicious to get on a plane with no luggage.”

  * * * *

  They landed in Chicago close to dusk that evening and made the twenty-five minute journey from the airport to the Moretti’s house in silence. Carmine watched out the window in a daze. He hadn't been back in years, but it looked exactly like he recalled. They passed Tarullo’s Pizzeria and Carmine closed his eyes, unable to look as they neared the alley where his life had changed.

  Corrado pulled into the driveway of the large brick house. A frazzled Celia stood in the doorway, and Corrado barely gave her a glance as he walked past. She gave Vincent a sympathetic smile, and Carmine tried to slip by her, but she grabbed a hold of him and pulled him into a hug. “I'm sorry, kiddo.”

  He pulled away from her. “This is my fault.”

  Shaking her head, Celia cupped his chin. “You didn't cause this, Carmine. You would never do anything to hurt her. We all love her. She’s one of us... she's family. We'll find her.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said, dropping his bag right inside the house. He headed for the front room, catching sight of his brother on the couch. Dominic had his head down, his hands covering his face.

  Tess sat beside him and glanced at Carmine, her eyes widening. She nudged Dominic. “Dom.”

  Dominic’s head popped up, his mouth agape. “Look at you, bro.”

  “It looks worse than it is,” he lied. The pain was unbearable, both inside and out. “She's all that matters right now.”

  “I know,” Dominic said as Carmine sat down on the other side of him. “How are you holding up?”

  “How am I holding up?” he asked incredulously. ”Well, I'm here, so I guess that counts for something.”

  Neither said anything for a moment before Vincent walked in, setting his laptop down on the coffee table. He glared at Dominic, his voice stern. “Whatever it was you did to block me from tracking her, fix it. Now.”

  He left without awaiting a response, a tense silence lingering in his wake. Tess stood up and sighed loudly as she started to pace the room, picking up things to keep busy as Dominic turned on the laptop. His fingers flew furiously across the keyboard as he typed in code, none of it making any sense to Carmine. It started grating on Carmine’s nerves after awhile, the clicking keys putting him on edge. He was nearing forty hours without sleep, and it was taking its toll. His head felt too heavy for his neck, his red-rimmed eyes burning from exhaustion. Running his hand through his hair, he clutched onto it tightly as he swayed in his seat.

  The ticking of a clock in the background blended with Dominic's typing, taunting Carmine. Every tick was one second longer without her, one more second of uncertainty. Tess continued to pace the room, her heels clicking against the wood floor. He tried to block it all out, but it was too much for him to take.

  Pace, click, tick. Pace, click, tick. Pace, click, tick.

  Carmine was losing his fucking mind.

  Celia walked in with some sandwiches and set a plate down in front of him. “You should try to eat.”

  “Do you think she's eating?” His voice cracked as the question came out. Was she eating? Were they taking care of her, feeding her and letting her sleep? Was she warm and safe? Christ, where the fuck was she? He let out a shaky breath as the sobs ripped through him, his fear skyrocketing. Was she even still alive?

  Celia rubbed his back as he shook his head, pulling away from her as Tess huffed again. “Do you have something you wanna say, Tess?” Carmine said, standing up. “Something you wanna get off your chest? Miss Goddamn Perfect, always knows better than everyone. You never liked Haven, anyway. You're probably glad she's gone.”

  Tess gasped and covered her mouth as Dominic jumped up, shoving Carmine back down onto the couch. He looked like he wanted to punch him, and for a brief moment, Carmine wished his brother would.<
br />
  “I think you need to get some sleep,” he said. “I know you don't want to, and I don't like telling you what to do, but you can't turn on us. Haven's like my sister. I'm upset too, so don't act like you're the only one who cares.”

  Carmine tried to get himself under control. “I wasn't thinking.”

  “I know you weren't,” Dominic said as he sat back down, focusing his attention on the laptop. “And if you think you can help in your condition, you're wrong. You're wasting away and going to make things worse. So eat your sandwich and go close your damn eyes.”

  * * * *

  The nondescript cinderblock building stood in the middle of an abandoned neighborhood, surrounded by others that looked just like it. Rust coated the black metal door, elaborate graffiti sprayed indiscriminately.

  Inside of the building was just as neglected, the concrete floor cracked and walls covered in grime. The roof was starting to cave in on the north side, the rafters barely hanging on in some places. It was still wired for electricity, overhead lights flickering as a metal exhaust fan continuously ran.

  In the center of the room was a large card table, surrounded by men in metal chairs. Thousands of dollars lay on the table, empty beer bottles scattered around as each man held a set of cards. They spoke animatedly, arguing and laughing in their inebriated states as their game of poker wore on into the night.

  The men seemed oblivious to the girl in the shadows of the far corner of the room, curled up on a torn, stained mattress. Haven was equally as oblivious to them, her breathing shallow as she lay there, unconscious.

  Noises occasionally filtered in to her blackness, muffled, incoherent words spoken in voices she couldn’t recognize. None of it made sense, and it would fade back out as fast as it came. Little by little, she started coming back around, and with the consciousness came pain. She peeked open her eyes, every inch of her body aching to the point where she couldn’t bear to move. The voices grew louder when she tried to sit up, her head swimming from disorientation.

  Panic flooded her system when she heard the banging of a door somewhere in the distance. A woman walked in and started toward the others, but stopped a few feet away as she looked in Haven’s direction. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me the girl was awake?”

  She had a tinge of a foreign accent that struck Haven as familiar, flashes of the accident coming back to her. It reminded her of the man’s voice that held a gun to her head.

  Everyone stopped speaking, their focus turning to Haven. She just sat there, clinging to alertness as her body threatened to give in once more. A pair of familiar eyes met hers then, the sight of them making Haven’s stomach twist. Nunzio smirked before turning back to his cards, the rest of the men grumbling as they did the same.

  The woman grabbed a bottle from a large cooler by the table and poured some of the liquid into a plastic cup before making her way across the room. Haven could make out her features as she approached, her long, stringy hair so blonde it was nearly white, the roots the color of midnight. Her blue eyes were large, her face round and full. She looked like an antique porcelain doll.

  “I’m surprised to see you moving around,” she said, her voice gentle as she held out the cup. Haven resisted, and the woman let out a light laugh. “It’s water, pretty girl. Drink.”

  A part of Haven screamed not to trust her, but there was a bigger part that was desperate to accept the drink. She gave in after a moment, the cold liquid soothing her burning chest.

  “I thought he put you out for good,” she said, seeming satisfied that Haven was cooperating. “I told Nunzy that last dose was too much. I don’t know why he never listens to me.”

  The woman scoured through her purse and pulled out a pack of saltine crackers. “You’re going to want to eat these, because there’s no telling when you’ll have another chance.”

  Although she didn’t trust her, Haven didn’t want her stubbornness to ruin a chance to get some strength. Her stomach hurt with familiar pangs of hunger, so she took the crackers and ate them.

  Her eyelids started to grow heavy. She fought back the sleepiness, but it was taking control of her. She felt lightheaded and had to lie down as the woman smiled.

  “I’m sorry to do that,” she said, her voice a fading whisper, “but Nunzy won’t bother you if you’re asleep.”

  Haven realized then, as the pain lifted and the sounds grew muffled, that she’d been drugged again.

  Chapter 47

  Carmine groggily glanced around the spare bedroom, his eyes falling on a clock across the room. It took a second for the numbers to register, and he sat up when he realized it was already eight in the morning.

  Pain surged through every inch of him as he climbed to his feet and slipped on his shoes before descending the stairs. He paused in the doorway of the living room, seeing Dominic still typing away at the laptop as Tess paced around. Everything appeared how he left it. Nearly half a day had passed, but nothing had changed.

  His father walked by, heading for the stairs. Desperation forced words from the tip of Carmine’s tongue. “Do you have any leads?”

  Vincent wouldn’t even look at him. “We'll talk later.”

  Celia stepped out of the kitchen at the sound of their voices, appearing just as exhausted as everyone else. Carmine realized he’d been the only to sleep, guilt consuming him as Celia headed in his direction. “How are you feeling?”

  He didn't answer. How did she think he felt? He hurt, inside and out. His entire life was chaos. Was he supposed to tell her that he felt like dying would be relief? Would that make her feel better?

  “They're doing all they can,” she said. “They’ll find her.”

  “I know, but I feel fucking useless,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “It's like I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I hate that goddamn feeling.”

  Celia opened her mouth to respond, but chaos erupted before she could get out a single word.

  Dominic jumped to his feet. “The program’s searching again!”

  Carmine’s heart pounded rapidly as a door down the hall flung open and slammed against a wall. Carmine figured they’d heard Dominic and looked over right away, but all hope disappeared when he made eye contact with his uncle. Corrado stared right past him at the door, his tanned skin seemingly void of all color.

  Carmine’s blood ran cold. He knew something was terribly wrong then, but never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined what would happen next.

  “FBI, search warrant! Get on the ground!”

  The shouting rang out from outside, multiple voices yelling at once. Carmine turned in disbelief as something hit the door, forcing it open. He flinched as the same noise rang out on the other side of the house, and the back door was ripped from the hinges. Instinctively, he covered his head as a series of loud bangs ricocheted through the downstairs, bright lights blinding him as the police flash bombed the house.

  An influx of men in SWAT gear burst through the doors, screaming for them to get down. Tess cried out from the living room as Dominic cursed, their voices muffled to Carmine’s ringing ears. It all happened fast, and Carmine felt like he was cemented in place as Celia dropped to the floor with her hands above her head.

  “Get down!” an officer screamed, pointing his weapon straight at Carmine, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

  Celia grabbed his foot and yanked on it, sending him stumbling. He dropped to his knees, and the officer pushed him down flat, shoving his face into the floor. They forced his arms behind him. He cried out, trying to pull his hands away when they grabbed handcuffs.

  “Don't resist,” Celia said. He turned toward her and saw they were handcuffing her too, but she was calm. “They just need to detain us for their safety.”

  He relaxed his arms to let them secure the cuffs. The officer nearly cut off his circulation as he tightened them.

  “Vincenzo Roman DeMarco, you're under arrest for violation of the RICO Acts, Title 18 of the United St
ates Code, Section 1961,” an officer said down the hallway. Carmine watched as they led his father to the front door. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

  Carmine grew frantic as they neared. “Dad!”

  “Keep your mouth shut, Carmine,” he said as they led him out. Officers pulled Corrado off the ground next and started reading him the same rights, placing him under arrest.

  “Call the lawyers, Celia,” Corrado said calmly. “I don't want them seizing anything without a lawyer present.”

  “I will,” she said, her voice shaking a bit. “Stay strong.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Corrado said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know,” Celia said as they pushed Corrado out the door.

  An officer helped her off the ground and searched her before they walked away, and others led both Dominic and Tess out of the living room. They pulled Carmine to his feet last and pushed him against the wall, vehemently patting him down and taking everything out of his pockets.

  Once they were satisfied he had no weapons, they led him through the front door. He was flabbergasted as he took in the sight outside. The street was blocked off and covered in police vehicles, dozens of FBI agents and local officers swarming the area. He watched as they put his father and uncle in separate unmarked dark SUVs, his footsteps faltering as the reality of it all hit him. Everything was getting worse by the second.

  “Walk,” the officer said, pushing him. Carmine stumbled a few steps and cursed as they steered him toward the curb with the others.

  He winced as the officer shoved him down beside Celia. “Take it fucking easy, man! I'm hurt!”

  “Do you need a medic, son?” an older officer asked, taking a few steps in their direction. Carmine narrowed his eyes, reading 'Special Agent US D.O.J.' written on his vest in bright yellow letters.