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“She’d what?” Corrado asked, cutting him off again. “She’d be alive? Even you can’t believe that! She’d still be dead today, but she would’ve died a slave. You gave her a chance. Her life was cut short, but it wasn’t you or La Cosa Nostra that did it. Maura sacrificed herself. You think your son is so much like you, but what you fail to realize is he’s his mother, too. There’s nothing naïve about the decision he made.”
Before he could respond, the phone in the office rang. Corrado grabbed the receiver off the desk in front of him. “Moretti.” He paused. “Yes, we’ll be there.”
Vincent sighed when he hung up. “Salvatore.”
“He wants to see us.”
“Carmine’s in too deep,” Vincent said. “He has no idea what he’s doing.”
“Let’s hope you’re wrong.” Corrado grabbed his keys. “How long until you need to report in?”
“Forty-eight hours.” Vincent had two days to self-surrender to be fitted with an ankle monitor. It wasn’t house arrest, with a curfew or a base restricting him to a certain location, but a precaution to make sure he didn’t try to disappear. It also meant they could keep a log of everywhere he went, which put him in a precarious situation within the organization.
“I suppose that means we have forty-eight hours, then.”
Corrado started for the door, but Celia stopped him. “It’s good to have you home, so make sure you come back.”
He brushed his hand across her cheek. “I always do, don’t I?”
* * *
Anger festered inside Vincent as they drove to Salvatore’s house. They went straight to the den when they arrived, where Salvatore sat with a few members of the organization. The younger ones stood out of respect, but Vincent ignored them and took his usual seat.
He ignored the glass of scotch someone tried to hand him, too.
“It’s nice to see the two of you,” Salvatore said. “I know you’re both honorable, though, so I’m not worried about any future issues in this case.”
Vincent stared at him. As usual, Salvatore’s only concern was it coming back on him. He expected them to keep their mouths shut and accept whatever punishment, and the saddest part of all, Vincent thought, was they would do it. The Omertà vow of silence swore just that.
“Anyway, on to lighter business,” Sal said. “I assume you’ve heard the good news by now.”
“About Carmine?” Vincent clenched his hands into fists in his lap. There was nothing light or good about it.
“It’s great to have another generation of DeMarcos working with us. You’ve raised a great son, a loyal man like you. You should be proud.”
Vincent cleared his throat to force back the words he really wanted to say. “Where is he?”
“He’s with Giovanni,” Salvatore said. “They’ve been trying to track down that poor girl. Such a shame she hasn’t been located.”
“Have they gotten any information?”
Salvatore’s insensitive laughter cut through the room. “Vincent, you know I’ve chosen to remain uninvolved. You’d have to ask them.”
“Still? What did my son come to you for?”
“Carmine choosing this path is unrelated,” he said, his lips still curved into a sinister smile. “Giovanni volunteered for his little mission, and they have our resources at their disposal, of course, but it has nothing to do with me.”
“How can you say that? Our women are to be respected; we’re supposed to protect them! It’s part of the oath; it’s one of our commandments! How is that not your problem? It’s all of our problem!”
The room fell into a tense silence, and everyone stared at Vincent, stunned. Corrado spoke before the strain could grow. “If you don’t mind, I think we should catch up with Carmine.”
“Yes, do that,” Salvatore said. “Use whatever you need.”
Corrado stood. “Come on.”
Vincent pushed his chair back and followed Corrado out of the room. Whispers started as he exited, but Salvatore demanded silence right away. Vincent shouldn’t have reacted, but he was so disgusted he couldn’t stop himself. Everything he had done had been in vain, a waste of time and energy, because Carmine ended up exactly where he had tried to keep him from going.
And the girl certainly hadn’t been saved.
