Sempre (Forever) (78 page)

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 States 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.

“I'm not your son,” he said. “And what I need is to get the fuck out of here.”

“A little patience would be nice. I'm Special Agent Donald Cerone, head of the organized crime division.”

Carmine cocked an eyebrow at his Italian name. “Cerone? Must be new slang for ‘traitor’.”

The agent laughed. “And you must be DeMarco's son.”

Carmine narrowed his eyes. “What’s so fucking funny?”

He shook his head, motioning for the other officer to give him Carmine’s belongings. Carmine sighed the moment the agent opened his wallet, knowing what he was about to find.

“Ah, what's this?” he asked, amused. “Carmine Marcello DeMarco. Tell me, son, what year were you born? We seem to have two different ID's here with two different ages.”

“
Vaffanculo
.”

“Carmine,” Celia warned. “Stop goading him.”

Agent Cerone just laughed again.

A female agent released Celia from her handcuffs and handed her a cell phone to call a lawyer. They gave her paperwork, explaining what they were doing as officers released Dominic and Tess from their restraints. Carmine watched as calmly as he could, but his patience was severely wearing thin.

“Are you gonna take mine off?” he asked when everyone else was freed. The officers standing around didn't respond. He groaned. “Seriously, this is bullshit.”

“Go ahead and take his cuffs off,” Agent Cerone said, smirking. They removed his cuffs, and Carmine rubbed his wrists.

Celia was allowed up when her lawyer arrived, and they took that opportunity to separate the rest of them. Carmine sat quietly as they led Tess and Dominic away, leaving him in front of the agent who still held his wallet.

Agent Cerone asked him questions, but he ignored, refusing to say a word. He was aching and tried to shift position, but every time he did a dozen agents eyed him like he was going to run.

He would. He’d run if he knew he could get away.

They started bringing boxes and bags out of the house, all of them tagged with evidence tape. Carmine was leaning back on his elbows and staring down at the ground when someone walked over to Agent Cerone, holding a piece of paper. “Here's the list of items we’ve seized.”

“Good. Is it complete?”

“Almost,” the man said. ”They're packing up the computers now, a desktop and laptop in the downstairs office, and another laptop in the living room.”

Carmine’s eyes snapped to him. That was their greatest chance of finding Haven. “What the fuck do you mean you're packing up that laptop?”

Agent Cerone glanced at him. “Oh, now you want to talk? It's being taken for evidence.”

“Why?”

“Because the warrant states that all computers and data drives were to be seized.”

“But you can't take that one.”

“Why?”

“Because you can't,” he said. “I need it.”

Agent Cerone wasn’t moved by the explanation. “It'll be returned if it's proven to be unnecessary to our investigation.”

Dread hit Carmine when an officer carried his father's laptop out of the house in a clear plastic bag. He jumped to his feet as a dozen agents turned to him, drawing their weapons.

“Stop!” Agent Cerone demanded at the same time something slammed into him from the side. The force of it sent him flying onto the ground. He tried to push the people off as they forced him onto his stomach to handcuff him again.

Carmine was pulled to his feet as Agent Cerone shook his head. “Take him downtown.”

“For what?” Carmine asked. “I didn't fucking do anything!”

The smirk returned to the agent’s lips. “It's been a pleasure, Carmine Marcello DeMarco. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other in the future.”

*  *  *  *

When Haven regained consciousness for the second time, the building was much lighter as sunlight streamed through the cracks from outside. Voices echoed through the room, but she couldn’t make out what was being said, some of the words foreign in heavy accented voices.

She tried to block out the pain as she looked around, her eyes meeting the same woman from before. “Good morning, pretty girl.”

Once again, everyone stopped talking as they turned to her. Haven’s heart rate accelerated when she spotted Nunzio. He had a bandage on his cheek.

“Ah, Sleeping Beauty is awake?” a man asked as he stood up from one of the chairs. He was tall with thick muscles, his face rigid as if chiseled from stone. His hair was mainly gray and his nose seemed to be too large for his face. He, too, had an accent.

Nunzio laughed. “Didn’t even take a kiss from her prince to do it.”

“How do you feel?” the man asked, ignoring Nunzio’s comment. He dragged a chair across the room and sat down in front of Haven. Up close, she could see his face was covered in wrinkles. “Can you speak,
princzessa
?”

Her brow furrowed at the word, and he smiled. “Ah, confused, are you? You are more comfortable with the Italians. Nunzy, boy, what word am I looking for?”

“
Principessa
.”

“Yes, do you know that one?” He raised his eyebrows, expecting some sort of response. Haven nodded and cringed from the pain in her neck. “Are you hurting,
Principessa
? You may speak. We are friends here.”

She gave him an incredulous look, and they all laughed. “I don’t think she believes you, Papa,” the woman said.

“So it appears,” the man said, gazing at her curiously. “I cannot say I blame you. You should not trust people, especially the ones you associate with, but I will never deceive you as they have.”

Haven’s voice was scratchy. “What are you talking about?”

“Ah, she speaks!” His hard expression gave way to excitement. “What I am talking about is the fact that your Italians have not been honest with you, nor have they treated you fairly,
Principessa
.”

He was confusing her. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Would you rather I call you by your slave name?”

“I, uh…” Did she? “I don’t know.”

He laughed. “I still cannot believe you do not know.”

“I told you,” Nunzio said. “She’s clueless.”

The man leaned toward her, his hands clasped together in front of him. Haven tried to move away, her back pressed into the corner. His proximity was nerve-racking.

“You are probably wondering what you are doing here,” he said, his tone serious. “I will level with you—I do not wish to hurt you, but I will if you make me, so I am asking for cooperation. I know you have fight in you, considering you have twice scarred my son.”

She gaped at him as he motioned toward Nunzio.
Son
?

“I should explain,” he said. “I am Ivan Volkov, and I have been acquainted with the DeMarco’s for many years. Our families are in the same business and have had a few encounters. In fact, Vincent was a child the first time I met him. He was a pretentious prick, much like I hear his youngest son is.”

He laughed, as did Nunzio, and Haven felt tears forming at their mention of Carmine.

“Did I strike a nerve,
Principessa
?” he asked. “It would be a pity if something happened to him, so let us hope it does not come to that.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Please don’t…”

“I do not wish to hurt him, either. If it helps, I have not heard of his death, so he is probably fine.”

His voice was nonchalant, almost as if he were taunting her. She tried to fight back her tears, but it was too much for her to take.

“Aw, do not cry,” he said, reaching toward her. She recoiled, and he dropped his hand before touching her. “Well, where was I?”

“You were talking about how much of a prick Vincent was,” Nunzio said.

“Ah, yes. This was before he met that wife of his, of course. Pity what happened to her. I suppose I should feel guilty about that, but it was her fault.”

“You?” Haven asked. “You did it?”

“You can say I am the conductor of the beautiful symphony.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What do you not understand?”

“Your son?” She glanced at Nunzio. “How can that be? I thought he was Salvatore’s family.”

“That cockroach is not my family,” Nunzio said. “He might be yours, but he’s nothing to me.”

“Relax, Nunzy,” Ivan said. “She does not know, remember?”

She was even more confused. “What are you talking about?”

“We are talking about you,
Principessa
.”

“What do I have to do with this?”

“Everything,” he said. “You have the power to help bring down the enemy, and that is what you are going to do.”

She hesitated. “The enemy?”

“Yes. You see, I have been laying the groundwork around Chicago, taking over businesses. We have nearly wiped out the competition, all except for the Italians. People are loyal to them, and they have proven to be strong. It is very irritating. I do not like being told where I can go in the city and what I can do. So I have found little ways in and turned a few, but none of them were powerful enough. I needed to get something bigger, someone higher up. I needed to crack the leadership, and Nunzy has been working to create a rift, but they have still held themselves together. But it is different now. Now I have you.”