AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is it the same for tracking chips in people?”
Mr. Landon snickered. “That’s science fiction. Human tracking chips don’t exist.”
Bullshit. Just because the FDA hadn’t approved them didn’t mean they weren’t out there. “Hypothetically speaking. If a person had one implanted under their skin, is there a way they could keep from being found?”
“They could stay in a windowless room or learn to breathe underwater. Otherwise, it would connect to the satellite as soon as they stepped into the open.”
“So basically becoming a prisoner or drowning is the only way to disrupt it.”
“I’d think so, yes. There’s no way to say for certain, though, since it’s completely hypothetical.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to leave when Mr. Landon called his name. “Your inquisitiveness gives me hope for you, so keep it up.”
Carmine smiled to himself as he walked out. While his teacher was proud, his father would flip if he knew he’d asked those questions.
* * *
Vincent slowed the car as he neared the tall brick house, swinging a sharp right into the driveway. He parked behind the red convertible and climbed out, locking it and setting an alarm.
The neighborhood was decent, not too much crime in that part of town. He wasn’t worried about any of the locals, as they’d have to be foolish to step foot onto the property uninvited. Everyone around there was well aware la famiglia controlled the streets, just as they knew Vincent’s position of authority and the power he held. They respected him for it. Most of them didn’t like him, but he didn’t care about their personal feelings.
For the moment Vincent stepped into the streets, his emotions didn’t exist anymore. He had no compassion, no sympathy, no empathy, and no remorse. He couldn’t. And the longer he spent in Chicago, the colder he grew.
It was one of those warm spring nights that Maura had always enjoyed, where she could open all the windows and let the breeze blow through. He used to complain about how hot she let the house get. He’d been temperamental then, and many times he wished he could go back and erase his scathing words.
Del senno di poi son piene le fosse. Hindsight is 20/20.
He strolled to the front door and rang the doorbell before rolling up the sleeves of his light blue button-up shirt. The sound of high heels echoed inside before the door opened. The woman stood before him, a smile on her shiny red lips. “Hello, Vincent. It’s been a while.”
She moved out of the way to let him pass. He wordlessly made his way to the front room and took a seat on her black leather couch. She joined him, holding a glass of red wine. He took it, bringing the glass to his nose and inhaling, taking in the aroma. Maura always liked red wine.
“So, how long are you in town for this time?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink, while he just held his. He didn’t drink anymore, hadn’t for a long time.
“Until I’m dismissed.”
She wasn’t naïve to the lifestyle. She’d been born into it, a Principessa della Mafia. She knew he couldn’t talk about what he did, so conversation between them was kept to a minimum—no misleading and certainly no misconceptions.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. He gazed at her, his eyes roaming her body, admiring her snug black dress and thigh highs. Her skin was tanned, her hair dark brown, her eyes an odd shade of hazel with tiny flecks of green in them. The green reminded him of the eyes he had gazed into every night for years.
He looked away from her. “Sure.”
They ate dinner while she talked and finished off the bottle of wine. Vincent just listened and nodded at the right times. Afterward, he strolled to the window and gazed out as she cleaned up, the stars and moon shining brightly above her enclosed backyard.
The clicking of heels approached, the sound stopping right behind him as her reflection greeted him in the window. She smiled mischievously, running her hands up his back. She rubbed his shoulders, massaging them firmly. “You’re always tense, Vincent.”
He let out a soft sigh. “That’s why I come to you. You know what I need.”
She hummed in response as she ran her hands under his shirt, her manicured fingernails lightly scraping his skin. Maura never had fingernails, always chewed them down to little stubs—sometimes so much her fingers bled.
She undid his buttons, her lips pressing lightly against the nape of his neck. Her breath was warm, her kiss sticky from the color on her lips. “I think I know what you need now.”
* * *
Vincent said nothing as he redressed an hour later.
It was moments like these, when Vincent should feel at ease, that he often felt the full weight of the world he lived in pressing against his chest. If he could go back, he would change so much, but all he could do was go forward and make sure that what had happened to him didn’t happen to Carmine. He could make sure that twenty years from now, his son wasn’t the one fucking nameless women who meant nothing, trying to keep a grip when all he really wanted was to let go.
