Sempre

Carmine stood at the window, watching Haven out in the yard as time wound down, the sun dipping below the horizon and turning the sky the color of glowing coal.



He could feel Michael’s eyes boring into him from where he sat across the room, puffing on his third cigar. The stench of smoke made Carmine’s stomach turn. Michael wheezed when he breathed, like he was constantly struggling to speak, but not a word had come from him in more than two hours. Fucking coward.



Corrado strolled over to Carmine, both of them taking in the scene outside.



“You have to help her,” Carmine said, the thought of separating them tearing him up inside.



Corrado continued to stare straight ahead. “Do you remember when your grandfather died?”



“Vaguely,” he said. “I was only six.”



“I was outside your grandparents’ house after the funeral, and your mother sat down beside me. Your mother . . . she never liked to come near me, so for her to do it was a big deal.” He paused. “When she gathered the courage to speak, she said those exact words: You have to help her.”



Carmine gaped at him. “Haven?”



Corrado nodded. “I told your mother it wasn’t my place, but I should’ve tried. I owed her that much.”



“You owed her?”



“Yes, I did, but why is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is I never made it up to her.”



“Does that mean you’re gonna help?”



He cut his eyes at him. “I vouched for her, didn’t I?”



“Yeah, you did, but . . .” Carmine trailed off, glancing out at Haven in the yard. “What about her mom? Can’t you help her?”



“I can’t help everyone. There will always be someone, somewhere, who needs something.”



“I know, but this isn’t just someone,” Carmine said. “This is her family, like we’re family.”



Corrado’s stare was hard. “You’re playing the family card?”



“I, uh . . .” Carmine hesitated, but there was no point denying it. “Yes.”



“You’re certain you want to do that?”



Corrado’s tone made Carmine question it momentarily. Did he? “Sure.”



Turning to the window, Corrado shook his head. “The most I can do is let her live in my home. It’s a risk, but frankly, after vouching for your girlfriend, I doubt it’s possible to dig myself in any deeper. If I die, that’ll be what kills me. Everything else is extra.” Corrado turned to Michael, who still sat quietly in his chair. “Any objections, Antonelli?”



Michael stammered. He hadn’t heard a word of what they’d said. “Uh, I . . . well, I don’t know.”



Corrado raised an eyebrow, the look on his face enough to make Carmine balk. “What do you mean you don’t know?”



“I mean . . .” He shook his head. “Sure, it’s fine with me.”



Corrado turned around. “We’ll handle it all tonight, then. Drop Haven off at the hotel and come back. It should be settled by then.”



* * *



Carmine finally made his way outside. As soon as Haven spotted him, a cold sense of dread settled deep within her. He paused a few feet away. “I’ll give you a minute.”



Her mama pulled her into a hug, tears streaming from her eyes, but a radiant smile shined from her lips. “You don’t know how much it means to me to see you like this. My baby girl, with the world at her fingertips.”



Haven squeezed her tightly. “I love you, Mama.”



“I love you too. I always have. I want you to go out there and live your life.”



Her chest ached at having to leave her again. “I miss you.”



“I miss you too, but the world is a better place with you in it,” her mama said, pulling from the hug. “Now get away from this place. I’m happy to see you again, but I’ll be happier knowing you’re out there living.”



“But I can’t leave you here, Mama. Not again.”



“Hush,” she said sternly. “Don’t worry about me.”



Haven tried to speak, wanting to object, but her mama didn’t give her a chance.



“Go,” she said again. “You found your place in the world. Don’t let me hold you back from it.”



Haven covered her mouth as tears blurred her vision. Taking a few steps back, she gave her mama one last look before running for the car.



41



It was pitch black when Carmine made it back to the ranch that night, the dry desert air still scorching. He started toward the house, irritable and uncomfortable, but froze when the front door opened. Miranda walked out, her eyes darting around wildly. Even in the darkness, Carmine could make out a faint hand-shaped mark on her throat.



“Who did this to you?” Carmine asked. “I’ll fucking kill them.”



Panic flashed in Miranda’s expression. “Please don’t make a scene.”



He fought to keep a grip on his temper. “It’s wrong.”



“I know, but . . . please.” She stepped into the yard, nervousness in her expression. She worried she was being watched. “I remember when your mama visited. She used to talk about a world outside of this place for my daughter. She said Haven was special.”



Hearing those words made Carmine’s chest ache with longing. “She is.”



“It means a lot to hear you say that. I hardly recognize my daughter, you know. She’s still that sweet baby girl I raised, but she’s happy. She’s better off away from all of this.” She walked away but paused after a few steps. “I heard someone talking about safe houses once and how they helped people get free. They called them havens. I named her that because she was my haven. She was my safe place in this ugly world. When she was born, I had a reason to live. My baby girl, my Haven, needed to be protected. I’ve done all I can, so I’m asking you to look out for her out there. Keep her away from people like these. Can you do that?”



Carmine was stunned at the trust she placed in him. “Yes.”



“Thank you,” she said. “I can rest easy now.”



The front door opened and Miranda bolted for the stables before he could say another word. Carmine glanced at the porch as Corrado stepped out, his eyebrows raised. “Did you tell her?”



“No, you scared her away before I could.”



A loud screeching ricocheted from the house. Footsteps pounded across the floor as a woman’s voice echoed out to them. “My brother vouched for that little bitch?”



Carmine went up the steps, but Corrado grabbed his shirt to stop him. “Don’t say anything.”



The front door thrust open, and Katrina stepped out. Her steps faltered when she saw Carmine, but she regained her composure and turned to her brother. “I can’t believe you, Corrado! What did you make my husband sign this morning?”



“He signed what was necessary,” he said, his outward appearance not reflecting the anger brewing on the inside.



Katrina laughed bitterly. “Necessary? None of this is necessary! You’re freeing that damn girl and taking her mother? What’s gotten into you? Is it because of her? Is that what this is about?”



Fire flared in Corrado’s eyes as he lost his composure. “Enough!”



Carmine’s heart thumped frantically, but Katrina wasn’t fazed. “It is, isn’t it? Trying to make up for the past? It can’t be fixed!”



“I’m not going to tell you again, Katrina.”



“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, closing the distance between them. “You’re screwing up my life over this! Why do these people matter? Just because these stupid DeMarcos fall—”



Corrado’s arms shot out, his hands grasping her by the throat and cutting off her words midsentence. She choked, her manicured fingernails digging into his flesh as she tried to pry his hands off. Even as she drew blood, Corrado didn’t waver.



“Are you done now?” he asked, the eerie calmness returning. Katrina gurgled as she fought for oxygen and words. “Burns, doesn’t it? Imagine how they feel when you torture them. Imagine how she felt that day, Kat, when those men were choking her, when they were violating her, and you did nothing to stop it.”



Corrado continued to stare at his sister, giving no indication he was going to let go. Michael bounded out the front door of the house and gasped. “Stop! You’ll kill her!”



Corrado’s eyes snapped to Michael. There was no emotion in his expression, nothing but darkness. This was the Corrado Carmine feared.



Before he could dwell, a commotion rang out from the stables as the horses reared up, spooked by something. Corrado let go of Katrina, his eyes meeting Carmine’s as he hurried down the steps. Carmine leaped off the porch after him.



“She’s not her,” Katrina screamed. “Just because he’s doing the same thing as his father doesn’t mean they’re the same!”



Those words caught Carmine off guard. He swung around to look at Katrina, not paying attention to where he was going. He ran straight into Corrado’s back as his uncle stopped in the doorway to the stables. Corrado shoved Carmine inside, and sickness rocked through him as the air left his lungs. He dry heaved, trying to breathe through the bile that flooded his chest. It burned, suffocating, and his vision blurred as he nearly blacked out.



Flashes of memory hit him, buckling his knees. The gunshot, the blood, the terror, the hooded figure pointing the gun at him. And there was his mom, lying dead in the darkened alleyway after the shrill screams rang out in the night.



Corrado yanked him upright by his shirt and shoved him again, forcing him back to reality. “Get a grip, Carmine.”



A small wooden stool lay on the ground in front of him, tipped over in a pile of hay, while a pair of dirty bare feet swung a few inches above it. The frail, familiar form hung limp like a rag doll, affixed to a low rafter by a piece of thick rope.



Carmine lunged forward and grabbed Miranda’s legs as he yelled for help. Corrado yanked a pair of garden shears from the wall and snipped the rope. The body fell on Carmine, and he staggered a few steps, nearly losing his footing. Laying her on the ground, he checked for a pulse but couldn’t find one.



Katrina and Michael rushed in as Carmine did CPR, pounding on her chest and desperately forcing air into her lungs. Her body was still warm like she was asleep, but her wide eyes and ashen face told another story. Carmine could hear Katrina shouting and Michael’s rushed voice, but the sound of his blood pumping through his body drowned out their words.



Panic. All he could feel was panic.



Nothing Carmine did helped. Ribs cracked sickeningly under the force of his compressions, her body not absorbing any of his air. Miranda lay still on the ground, her heart no longer beating.



Corrado grabbed his shoulder. “She’s dead.”



Carmine shrugged him off. “No, she’s not! We have to save her!”



“It’s too late.”



“It’s not!” He hysterically pushed on her chest some more. “Why are you just standing there?”



“There’s nothing we can do.”