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Carlo stepped onto the yacht, walking with determination, an aura of conceit enshrouding him. It was evident in his stride, and his smile, and his stance—the man believed he was invincible.
“I hope I’m not late,” Carlo said.
Carmine glanced at his watch: 1:13 P.M. They were all late, technically speaking.
“No, no, of course not,” Sal said, smiling gleefully as he slapped Carlo on the back. “It’s just good to see you.”
They set sail a minute later, navigating out toward an unoccupied area where nothing surrounded them but the calm, dark waters of Lake Michigan. Carmine remained tense, every muscle in his body rigid, as the men grabbed fishing rods and cast them in the water. They lounged and shared laughs, steadily sipping alcohol.
“So, we have a bit of a situation,” Salvatore said eventually, his nonchalance shifting to seriousness. “We have another traitor that needs dealt with. He can’t see it coming, and he’s going to trust few at this point. You understand the gravity of the situation?”
“Of course,” Corrado responded at once. “The rats have to go.”
Salvatore turned to Carmine, his eyebrows raised inquisitively. Carmine nodded, unsure of why he was asking him, but he wasn’t going to question it. His job was simply to agree. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Sal said, pulling out a cigar and clipping off the end of it, “because I need Vincent taken out as soon as possible.”
Carmine’s blood ran cold, his heart stopping for a fraction of a second. Vincent? It couldn’t be so. He couldn’t mean his father.
“It’s unfortunate, but we have sources saying he’s been feeding information to the Feds,” Sal continued as he lit his cigar, savoring the first puff. “His father, Antonio—God rest his soul—was one of the greatest Boss’s in the history of the organization. Vincent turning is a notion I wouldn’t suggest if I weren’t one-hundred percent sure.”
Salvatore paused, glancing at Corrado, and Carmine held his breath. He waited for his uncle to defend him, for him to talk Salvatore out of it, to make him see logic that Vincent DeMarco would never jeopardize his family.
But the moment Corrado opened his mouth, Carmine’s hope disintegrated. “I’ll handle it.”
“He’ll expect you,” Salvatore warned. “He knows you’re the best.”
Corrado started to respond, but another voice silenced him. “What about the boy?” Carlo asked. “Why not him?”
“Me?” Carmine asked incredulously. “I can’t—”
“Can’t?” Sal countered, his eyes darkening. “Are you refusing?”
“With all due respect, sir, Vincent has a lot of experience,” Corrado said. “Carmine’s still an amateur.”
“True, but he wouldn’t fire on his son, especially one who looks strikingly close to his wife. It would be like Maura dying all over again. No, Carlo’s right. Carmine’s perfect.”
Carmine stared at them with shock, not knowing how to react. The fact that Salvatore would use his mother’s memory to his advantage in his violent twisted game made him sick. There was no way he had just been ordered to murder his own father. It was unfathomable. “I’m supposed to kill my father?”
“A traitor, Carmine,” Sal said sharply. “Your order is to eliminate the threat. It’s about time you’ve proven your loyalty, anyway. You should’ve been made to do it long ago, but I didn’t press the issue because of who you are. In fact, I’ve tolerated a lot I shouldn’t have because of your last name, but I won’t tolerate it any longer. Your grandfather would be rolling over in his grave right now.”
“He would,” Corrado chimed in. “Antonio would’ve never stood for this.”
“So do what’s expected of you,” Salvatore continued. “Earn some respect back for your bloodline.”
“But—”
Salvatore shot Carmine a look of murderous rage, silencing him abruptly. The atmosphere shifted once more to nonchalance as Sal puffed on his cigar with ease, turning his focus back to his fishing rod.
Two hours later the yacht docked again, and Carmine was the first one off the boat. He started down the dock in a stupor and heard Corrado follow, but he didn’t turn around. Seething, he headed straight for his car when Corrado grabbed him.
“Get off of me,” he spat, shrugging away from his uncle.
“Relax,” Corrado said. “You did good.”
Carmine laughed bitterly. “You expect me to relax? Maybe you can kill your own fucking family with no remorse, but I can’t! How the hell could you agree with him? I thought you knew my father better than that!”
“I clearly know Vincent better than you do,” he said. “You’re ignorant if you believe he didn’t know this would happen.”
