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He pulled away from her. “This is my fault.”
Shaking her head, Celia cupped his chin. “You didn’t cause this, kiddo. You would never do anything to hurt her. She’s one of us . . . she’s family. We’ll find her.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, dropping his bag right inside the house. He headed for the front room, catching sight of his brother on the couch. Dominic had his head down, his hands covering his face. Tess sat beside him and glanced at Carmine, her eyes widening. She nudged Dominic. “Dom.”
Dominic’s head popped up, his mouth agape. “Look at you, bro.”
“It looks worse than it is,” he lied, sitting on the other side of him. The pain was unbearable, both inside and out. “She’s all that matters right now.”
Neither said anything more before Vincent walked in, setting up his laptop on the coffee table. He looked at Dominic, his voice stern. “I need you to locate her chip for me.”
Carmine blanched. “You can’t find it?”
“It won’t connect.”
When he left, a tense silence lingered in his wake. Tess sighed loudly as she paced the room, picking up things to keep busy as Dominic turned to the laptop. His fingers flew furiously across the keys as he typed in code, none of it making any sense to Carmine.
The clicking keys grated on Carmine’s raw nerves. He was nearing forty hours without sleep. His head felt too heavy for his neck, his red-rimmed eyes burning from exhaustion. Running his hand through his hair, he clutched it tightly as he swayed in his seat. The ticking of a clock in the background blended with Dominic’s typing, taunting Carmine. Every tick was one second longer without her, one more second of uncertainty. Tess continued to pace, her heels clacking against the wood floor. It was too much for him to take.
Pace, click, tick. Pace, click, tick. Pace, click, tick.
Carmine was losing his fucking mind.
Celia walked in with some sandwiches and set a plate in front of him. “You should eat.”
“Do you think she’s eating?” His voice cracked as the question came out. Was she eating? Were they taking care of her? Was she warm? Christ, where the fuck was she? He let out a shaky breath as his fear skyrocketed. Was she even alive?
Celia rubbed his back but he pulled away from her as Tess huffed again. “Do you have something you wanna say, Tess?” Carmine asked, standing. “Something you wanna get off your chest? Miss Goddamn Perfect always knows better than everyone. You never liked Haven, anyway. You’re probably glad she’s gone.”
Tess gasped and covered her mouth as Dominic jumped up. He looked like he wanted to punch him, and for a moment, Carmine wished his brother would.
“I think you need some sleep,” Dominic said. “Haven’s like my sister. I’m upset, too, so don’t act like you’re the only one who cares.”
Carmine tried to get himself under control. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“I know you weren’t.” Dominic sat back down, focusing his attention on the laptop. “And if you think you can help in your condition, you’re wrong. So eat your sandwich and go close your damn eyes.”
* * *
The nondescript cinder block building stood in the middle of an abandoned neighborhood. Rust coated the black metal door, elaborate graffiti sprayed indiscriminately on the outside. Inside, the building was just as neglected, the concrete floor cracked and the walls covered in grime. It was still wired for electricity, overhead lights flickering. A metal exhaust fan near the ceiling continuously ran.
In the center of the room was a large card table, surrounded by men in collapsible chairs. Thousands of dollars lay on the table, empty beer bottles scattered around as each man held a set of cards. They spoke animatedly, arguing and laughing as their game of poker wore on into the night.
They seemed oblivious to the girl in the shadows of the far corner, curled up on a torn, stained mattress. Haven was equally as oblivious to them, her breathing shallow. Noises occasionally filtered into her blackness, muffled, incoherent words spoken in unrecognizable voices.
Little by little, she came back around, and with the consciousness came pain. The voices grew louder when she tried to sit up, her head swimming from disorientation. Panic flooded her system when the door banged in the distance. A woman entered and started toward the others, but stopped as she looked in Haven’s direction. “Why didn’t you tell me the girl was awake?”
She had a tinge of a foreign accent that struck Haven as familiar, flashes of the accident coming back to her. It reminded her of the man who had held a gun to her head.
Everyone stopped speaking, shifting their focus to Haven. A pair of familiar eyes met hers, the sight of them making her stomach twist. Nunzio smirked before turning back to his cards, the rest of the men grumbling as they did the same.
The woman grabbed a bottle from a large cooler by the table and poured some of the liquid into a plastic cup before making her way across the room. Haven could make out her features as she approached, her long, stringy hair so blonde it was nearly white, the roots the color of midnight. Her blue eyes were large, her face round and full. She looked like an antique porcelain doll.
“I’m surprised to see you moving around,” she said, her voice gentle as she held out the cup. Haven resisted, and the woman laughed lightly. “It’s water, pretty girl. Drink.”
A part of Haven screamed not to trust her, but there was a bigger part desperate to accept the drink. She gave in after a moment, the cold liquid soothing her burning chest.
“I thought he put you out for good,” she said. “I told Nunzy that last dose was too much. I don’t know why he never listens to me.”
