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“Drugs,” Vincent interrupted, tired of the charade. “You forgot about the drugs.”
The boy blanched. Even working at such low ranks, he knew Cosa Nostra’s policy: Don’t get caught with drugs. Ever. “What drugs?”
“The ones you’ve been selling out of your house,” Vincent said. “We have an insider who says the police caught wind of the location.”
“I, uh . . . I haven’t . . .”
He didn’t have time to come up with an excuse. Corrado reached into his suit coat and pulled out his gun, pointing it at the back of the boy’s head. Vincent looked away as Corrado pulled the trigger, the silencer muffling the gunfire as the bullet tore through his skull. The room was void of emotion as Corrado returned his gun to his coat, Sal continuing to drink his scotch like it hadn’t happened. Sickness stirred within Vincent the moment he saw the dead kid’s frozen expression of fear. Bolting from the room, he ran to the deck and threw up over the side of the yacht.
Sal joined him, eyeing him strangely, and Vincent sighed. “Motion sickness got me, after all.”
Corrado dragged the body up on deck, wrapping it in a tarp and chains before tossing it overboard. Vincent watched as the boy sank, disappearing into the blackness of the water.
Make that five people on the bottom of the lake.
7
Haven’s head brutally thumped when she opened her eyes the following Saturday. One, two, three seconds passed before sickness rushed through her like a waterfall. Jumping up, she ran for the bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet just in time.
An hour passed before she was well enough to get back to her feet. Clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled, she made her way downstairs, coming face-to-face on the second floor with Carmine and a girl with wildly colored hair.
She’d seen Carmine a few times the past week but could never tell what he was thinking, his expression curious as he gazed at her. The attention caused her chest to swell with that unknown sensation, one she was still too afraid to confront or name.
Escaping from them before they could speak, she almost fell down the steps in haste as she went straight for the kitchen. She tried to calm her racing heart as she washed a few dishes, but an unexpected voice from the doorway only startled her more. “Hey! I’m Dia!”
The glass she was holding slipped from her hand as she turned around, hitting the floor with a clank but thankfully not breaking. “Uh, hello.”
Dia raised her eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
Haven stared at her. Of course she wasn’t okay. She was alone and missing her mama, so confused and emotionally spent that she didn’t know which way was up anymore.
Not to mention she felt like she was going to be sick again.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, looking away. She took a few deep breaths, woozy, and headed for the stairs without another word. Breathing heavily, she had to pause when she reached the top of the staircase. Her vision blurred, her chest burning as she lost her breath. Everything grew hazy as her legs gave out.
She collapsed, her head slamming into the wall as she hit the floor with a thump, the sound of a freight train rushing through her ears.
* * *
“Haven?”
Haven pried her eyes open at the familiar voice, incredibly close, and made out the set of green eyes hovering in front of her. She blinked a few times as Carmine backed away. “Maledicalo! You can’t do that to me!”
Confused, her vision blurred again from unexpected tears. “What?”
“You can’t pass out like that! You looked like you were dead. Christ, I thought you were dead!”
She stared at him. He’d worried she was dead?
“Dom called my father to come check on you. You hit your head pretty hard.” He brushed his hand across her forehead. His fingertips were cool against her feverish skin. He spoke again, his voice so soft she barely heard it. “Bella ragazza, you scared the hell outta me.”
She gazed at him. “What does that mean?”
“What does what mean? I said you scared me.”
They sat in silence, Carmine stroking her cheek with the back of his hand as he stared into her eyes. It was uncomfortable, but Haven couldn’t break from his gaze. “I’m sorry this happened,” she said. “Especially with your girlfriend visiting.”
His brow furrowed briefly before he laughed. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but if I did, it definitely wouldn’t be Dia. I have the wrong equipment for her.”
