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She froze as Dr. DeMarco opened a program on his laptop. “I’m not going to run away, sir.”
He held his hand up to silence her before punching a few numbers into the program. A map popped up, a red dot flashing in the center of it. “The problem is you’ve been around some of the most dangerous men in the country. Because of that, you’re desensitized to moderately harmful situations. I love my son, but he’s volatile. I was the same way at his age, and I know what results from that. I’m not a horrible man. I have a heart, and I’ve been trying to let nature take its course, hoping everything would fix itself, but Carmine’s growing impatient. He’s digging in deep.”
He pointed at the dot on the screen. “That’s you. No matter where you go, all I have to do is open this program, punch in the code, and it’ll give me your location. Running is only going to get someone hurt, and I can’t let that happen. I’d try to explain it to Carmine, but he’d want answers I can’t give him—answers he’s better off never hearing. So instead, I’m telling you. If you go on the lam with my son, I’ll track you down and kill you. I don’t want to, but I can’t sacrifice him. And if you two are stupid enough to try to disappear, Carmine will end up hurt at the end.”
She stared at him, frightened. The last thing she wanted was for Carmine to suffer.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from my son, but his safety comes first. Because these secrets? They revolve around you.”
He turned off the laptop and returned it to the bag before sitting back down in his chair. Haven remained quiet, trying to absorb what he’d said. Too many people had been hurt because of her. Carmine couldn’t be one of them. She couldn’t let that happen.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I’m walking a fine line trying to distance my son from this lifestyle. When I vowed my life to the organization, I swore they would always come first. Little did I know, years later, they’d expect me to hand over my son. Sal views Carmine as the Principe, a Mafia prince, and if he discovers I spoke out against them, he’ll see me as a traitor. Do you know what the punishment for treachery is in my world? What happens to people when they forget their place?”
She flinched at his choice of words. “Death.”
“So you see the predicament I’m in. You’re helping my son in ways I’ve failed him, but you need to realize I’m trying to help him, too. I’m saving him from something he doesn’t realize he needs to be saved from. I just haven’t found a way out of this without somebody getting hurt, a way where someone doesn’t have to be sacrificed.”
He grabbed his pen again and sorted through papers, subject closed. Haven watched him for a moment before picking up the book from the floor.
* * *
Before Haven knew it, the door behind her flew open, and Dr. DeMarco groaned. “How many times do we have to go through this, Carmine Marcello, before you stop entering rooms without permission?”
Haven sat still, staring straight ahead at the desk, her skin prickling as Carmine plopped down in the chair beside her. “I had permission. You told me to be here.”
Dr. DeMarco shook his head. “Give me your car keys.”
Carmine tensed. “Excuse me?”
“What is it with you kids acting ignorant? Give me your keys.”
“This shit again?”
“Son . . .”
Carmine pulled out his keys and threw them on his father’s desk. They landed on a pile of papers, and Dr. DeMarco picked them up before tossing a different set to Carmine.
Carmine looked at him with confusion. “Why are you giving me the keys to the Mercedes?”
“Because it’s not yours.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I figured you’d prefer to use someone else’s,” Dr. DeMarco said, “but if you’d rather her start with the Mazda, by all means take your keys back.”
Carmine shook his head. “You aren’t making any fucking sense.”
“Watch your mouth,” Dr. DeMarco said. “If you’d stop being defensive, you’d see I was telling you to teach the girl how to drive.”
Carmine’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking kidding me?”
Dr. DeMarco groaned. “Sometimes I want to knock the shit out of you, son.”
“You realize you’re cursing at me for cursing, right? What kinda role model are you?”
“Not the type of role model you need. Do what I say, not what I do. You’re too good to follow in my footsteps.”
“Too good to be a doctor?”
