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He chuckled. “So not good things, then.”
Vincent stood, shaking his head as the others laughed. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to speak with my son.”
Sal waved them away, and the color drained from Carmine’s face at his father’s rattled expression.
16
Carmine slumped in the leather chair in his father’s office, trying to act nonchalant while inside anarchy reigned. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as Vincent took a seat at his desk with his laptop. “Do you like the number thirteen, Carmine?”
Carmine’s brow furrowed at the question. “Uh, it’s just a number.”
“I never understood the fascination,” Vincent said, typing away at the keys without looking up. “There’s even a psychological disorder over the fear of the number, triskaidekaphobia. In southern Italy, tredici—the number thirteen—is slang meaning someone’s luck has turned bad.”
He stopped speaking, and the room grew silent. Carmine drummed his fingers some more. “I appreciate the random trivia, and I’m sure if I ever go on Jeopardy! it’ll come in handy, but I don’t understand what the fuck it has to do with me.”
Vincent’s typing stopped. “Lasciare in tredici.”
“Are you telling me my luck ran out?”
“Not just yours.” Vincent turned back to his laptop. “I need another favor.”
“Of course you do.”
“I need someone to keep an eye on the girl.”
Carmine looked at him incredulously. “You want me to spy on her?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I need to make sure she stays safe. I caught Squint touching her.”
Carmine’s rage boiled over. He stood so quickly his chair flew back. “He touched her?”
“He didn’t harm her, although she did burn her hand,” Vincent said casually, ignoring Carmine’s outburst. “I handled it.”
“You handled it?” Carmine clenched his hands into fists as he fought back the urge to pummel something.
“Yes, I handled it,” Vincent said again. “What’s gotten into you?”
Carmine glared at his father as he flopped back down in the chair. “I don’t like that shit.”
“I know, but you need to control your temper. I’d get rid of Squint if I could, but Sal’s blinded by the fact that he’s technically family. Sal has no blood relatives left, since his brother’s and sister’s families were all murdered. That’s why he’s always been fixated on you. You are the closest thing to a son he had—his godson. Getting him to believe Squint’s untrustworthy won’t be easy.”
“Do you think he could be a danger?”
Vincent sighed. “Trouble’s brewing, so there’s little focus on things going on within the walls of the fortress, so to speak. I think Squint’s more than happy to take advantage of that.”
“Why’s he interested in Haven, though?”
“Probably because it’s wrong for him to be.”
Carmine’s heartbeat thrashed in his ears. Wrong? “You mean it’s wrong for someone like her to be with one of you?”
“I was referring to him having no right to touch what isn’t his,” Vincent said. “Although, that is a good point.”
“So you do think that’s wrong?”
“Of course it is,” Vincent said. “Rape is always wrong.”
“I mean consensual.”
