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Silently, carefully, she stepped inside, horrified to see her drawers open from being rifled through. She pulled out the container of pepper spray she usually carried before tiptoeing through the dark apartment. She stepped into the quiet kitchen and reached for the light switch, but the moment her fingers touched it, a thump rang out upstairs.
Haven’s heart stalled as she looked at the ceiling instinctively. The hairs on her arms stood on end as a strange feeling crept through her, the sensation that she wasn’t alone nearly buckling her knees.
She stood as still as a statue, trying to convince herself she had been hearing things, when an unmistakable crash upstairs registered with her ears. She gasped, trembling, as she heard footsteps, originating in Kelsey’s bedroom and heading down the hall. They were heavy, clomping against the wooden floor as if weighed down by steel. It reminded Haven of how Michael used to walk, the sound of his boots in the house as they sat in the dank cellar awaiting punishment.
She debated briefly as the footsteps started down the stairs, dizzy from the flood of memories. He was too close for her to make an escape undetected, so she slipped into a hallway closet and quietly shut the door.
The footsteps drew nearer, entering her apartment and walking right past where she hid, disrupting the natural light. She held her breath, not daring to move a fraction of an inch while they were there. The apartment was a flurry of noise as they shut drawers and moved things around, breathing heavily but never speaking.
It felt like an eternity before they left again. Haven heard them exit the building and she slipped out of the closet, even more stunned at her apartment this time. The chaos she had encountered minutes earlier was gone, everything back in its place, cleaner than she had left it that morning. Even the front door had been meticulously locked again, leaving no sign that anyone had even been there.
* * *
Carmine stepped into Luna Rossa, nodding to the bouncer before making his way to the back where his crew huddled around a large booth. He started toward them but barely made it a few feet when someone stepped directly in his path. “Come with me.”
Carmine blanched as Corrado motioned toward the door. He had his coat on, a small flash of silver gleaming from his belt when he moved. Gun.
“What?”
“Just come on.”
Carmine hesitated but followed his uncle out of the club, slipping into the passenger seat of his car as Corrado climbed behind the wheel. He started it up without hesitation, throwing it in gear and speeding from the lot.
“Where are we going?” Carmine asked. Had he done something wrong?
“A few Irish have been hanging out on Clark Street, harassing the owner of the pawn shop on the corner.”
Carmine eyed him peculiarly. “And?”
“And we’re going to make them go away.”
Carmine’s stomach dropped. Work. He hadn’t been on a job with Corrado before, and he wasn’t looking forward to going on one now. “I’m guessing they’re there now?”
“They’re playing the video poker machines,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust. Corrado hated gambling, he had learned, even though a lot of his money came from underground sports betting.
They were silent the short drive to the store. Corrado pulled right up to the curb and got out without a word. Carmine followed him inside, immediately hearing the ruckus in the back. The men shouted and laughed, their thick Irish accents echoing through the shop as they banged against the machines.
Corrado walked straight to the back, taking a direct path to them. Carmine cut along the front, slipping down a side aisle out of view to sneak up behind them.
The men saw Corrado coming but barely had enough time to react before he grabbed the back of a guy’s head and slammed it into the machine. He cried out with the loud crunch, blood pouring from his face as his nose shattered. He grabbed it, staggering when Corrado let go of him.
Corrado stealthily reached for the man’s gun the same time the second Irish pulled out his own. They aimed at each other simultaneously as Carmine stepped out of the aisle behind the guy, flicking off the safety of his pistol.
Carmine pressed the muzzle against the back of his head. He tensed when he felt it, his hand shaking slightly. Corrado grabbed his own gun from his coat with his other hand and pointed it, too. The Irish man hesitated but slowly raised his hands in the air, taking his finger off the trigger. Carmine disarmed him and took a step back.
Corrado put the first guy’s gun in his pocket, keeping his own cocked as he stared him down. “If I ever hear of you coming back here, I’ll do more than break a nose. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Be sure to tell O’Bannon I said hello,” Corrado said, his cold tone causing goose bumps to spring up on Carmine’s skin. “Now go.”
They hesitated, looking dumbfounded as they stared at Corrado, and Carmine groaned. “You heard the fucking man. He said go, so go, motherfucker.”
They shot Carmine angry glares before scurrying for the exit. One of the men lingered at the door, though, turning to eye them with anger. “You want us to stay out of your territory, tell your boss to stay out of ours.”
“We don’t step foot in your territory,” Corrado said. “Ever.”
The man shook his head. “You sound like you actually believe your lies.”
