“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.
“You must want to die,” Corrado said, walking through the house. “Speaking to him that way will get you killed.”
Corrado opened a door to a back room and stepped inside. He opened cabinet doors and grabbed weapons, tossing Vincent two .45 Smith & Wessons before pulling out two guns for himself, slipping them into his coat along with more ammunition.
Giovanni lived not far from Salvatore. The house was empty when Corrado and Vincent arrived, so Corrado slipped around the back and kicked in the door. The two of them headed straight to Giovanni’s office and rifled through drawers and files, looking for anything they might have dug up.
Corrado found a map of Chicago and unfolded it on the desk beside him. Areas of it were circled and crossed out, the entire thing riddled with writing. Vincent recognized some of it as his son’s, the sloppy words scribbled with a frenzied hand.
“They have Ivan’s properties pinpointed on the map, but there’s no way they would’ve taken Haven somewhere with his name on the deed,” Corrado said. “He’s smarter than that. He would’ve found somewhere close to home but far enough away to keep the two separate. Somewhere remote where there’s no chance of her being stumbled upon, but not so isolated that their traffic would draw curious eyes. Somewhere people mind their own business.”
“You would’ve made a good detective,” Vincent mused.
Corrado shot him an incredulous look. “Just because I understand the mind of a criminal doesn’t mean I’d be a good cop.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Vincent said, scrolling through the computer’s history. “You wouldn’t last a day before you got an excessive force complaint.”
Corrado stared at him in silence for a moment before turning to the map, and Vincent focused his attention on Giovanni’s computer. Numerous addresses and names had been searched, but nothing stood out as important.
Corrado pointed to a section of map circled with a pencil. “What’s on this side of Austin?”
“Nothing that I know of,” Vincent said. “Bad neighborhood, a lot of gang activity. Most of the businesses moved out of the area, so there are a lot of vacant buildings.”
“That’s what I thought,” Corrado said. “It’s a money pit, yet Natalia Volkov owns property there.”
“Ivan’s daughter? Isn’t she still a teenager?”
“I believe she just turned nineteen.”
“Sounds odd.”
“It does,” Corrado said. “It also sounds like a good place to start.”
49
The sun had set, darkness falling over Chicago as Vincent and Corrado drove to the west side of the city. A full moon hovered in the sky, a ring of light surrounding it partially shielded by a thin cloud covering. The wind whipped a bit, vibrating the car with its unpredictable gusts.
The lack of communication wore on Vincent’s nerves. He had no idea what his son was up to, what situation he was in, or if he was okay. Giovanni had never given Vincent reason to distrust him, but the fact that it was his soldati that had gone awry didn’t sit well with him. If he had been paying attention, he should have seen it.
Corrado turned off the highway and cruised through the streets. Most of the buildings appeared abandoned, worn down and boarded up. Gang signs were strewn around with spray paint by street thugs who considered themselves hardcore. Men with no true loyalty, no respect within their orders.
Their lack of civility had always disgusted Antonio. He loathed their usage of the word gangster, cringed at their definition of brotherhood. Vincent couldn’t count how many times his father had ranted about it, priding himself on the fact that his organization had respect. They may have committed heinous crimes, but in his mind, all of it was founded. His father took the oath seriously and believed, until the day he died, that they were a true family, la famiglia, with a bond stronger than blood.
Vincent never thought he would see the day where he wished his father was still in control.
“Are you all right, Vincent?” Corrado asked. “We can’t afford second thoughts.”
“I’m not having second thoughts,” he said. “I’m thinking about how disturbed my father would be about this.”
“None of this would be happening if your father were around,” Corrado said. “He was an honorable man, as far as honor goes within our world. Antonio’s organization was united.”
“And now we’re no better than the guys tagging these buildings.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I think most of us still have our honor. What you’ve done for Haven, after what she’s cost you, is honorable. I can’t say I’d do the same if I were in your position. If it were my wife, I would’ve killed the girl a long time ago.”
“I almost did,” he said. “I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t,” he said. “Instead, you’re risking your life to find her, and that’s where the honor is, Vincent. Sometimes you have to look at the bigger picture.”
Vincent shook his head as Corrado pulled the car behind a vacant building, partially concealing it beside a Dumpster. “I never imagined you’d be the one to give me a pep talk about this.”
“Well, you heard my wife,” he said as he cut the engine. “She told me to come home, and I need you to have a level head for that to be possible.”
They climbed out and walked alongside the building, staying out of sight. Corrado stopped when he reached the corner, and Vincent spotted a black Mercedes parked among some trees.
“Squint’s car,” Corrado said, reaching into his coat for one of his guns. “I’m going to check it out. Cover me.”
Vincent pulled out a gun and flicked off the safety as Corrado jogged across the road. He peered into the car and tried the doors as Vincent watched for signs of movement. Corrado looked around, glancing into the windows of an old business, before returning. “It’s empty.”
Vincent started to speak when a loud noise rang out behind them, startling him into silence. He swung around, aiming his weapon, but Corrado pulled him around the corner instead. Multiple rushed voices blurred together, cutting through the night as they hid alongside the vacant building Corrado had checked out moments earlier.
Three men stepped out from a warehouse and paused in the spot Vincent and Corrado had been standing moments ago. Vincent recognized Squint, a guy with shaggy blond hair nonchalantly clutching an AK-47 beside him. It was one of Volkov’s guys, one who had been in the pizzeria. The third man was vaguely familiar, but Vincent couldn’t place him in the dark.
“Brazen,” Corrado said. “Brave and careless. It’s a dangerous combination.”
“Demented is what they are,” Vincent said as Squint pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to the third guy. He and the man with the AK-47 disappeared inside.
“Unlocked,” Corrado observed. “I suppose we can add stupid to the list of adjectives.”
The third guy sprinted across the street toward Squint’s car as Corrado slipped around to the back of the building. Vincent took a few steps around to the front, remaining in the shadows. He reached the corner just as Corrado warded off the guy, pointing his gun at his head.
The guy threw up his hands as he dropped the keys. “Corrado.”
The voice struck Vincent as familiar. His stomach sank. “Tarullo?”
The guy turned, fear flashing across his face. Dean Tarullo, the youngest son of the man who had saved Carmine’s life.
“Uh, Vincent, sir,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
Before Vincent could respond, Corrado threw the boy against the side of the building, patting him down. Pressing his gun into the boy’s throat, his finger lightly touched the trigger. “You know why we’re here. How many people are inside?”
“Five or six, I think. Maybe more.”
“Not a good enough answer. Think harder.”
“I saw six.”
“Better,” Corrado said. “Are they all armed?”
“The ones I saw were.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You better figure it out,” Corrado said, “before I kill you.”
“Shit! Okay! Nunzio’s the only one I know. He talked me into this. I didn’t realize what he was doing. I didn’t know he was—”
His rambling was cut off when Corrado slammed his gun into the side of his head. “I’m only interested in names.”
“Nunzio . . . that girl, the nurse.”
Vincent’s anger festered, seeping into his taut muscles. “Jen?”
“Yeah, her. There are some others I don’t know, but an older man’s in charge. Ivan, I think.”
“And what about the girl?” Corrado asked. “Haven?”
“Oh, uh, I know they have her, but I haven’t looked around. I’ve only gone in twice, and I never went past the doorway.”
“You haven’t seen her at all?”
He shook his head frantically as headlights of an approaching car flashed in their direction. They all tensed as the black BMW crept down the street. Vincent stalked to the front of the building cautiously, watching as it stopped less than a block away. The passenger door opened and a person hopped out before the car pulled out of sight.
Vincent’s eyes widened when the person stepped under a streetlight, giving him a clear view of his son. Carmine haphazardly approached the building, clutching a gun in his shaking hand.
Corrado groaned. “Stop him.”
Vincent sprinted across the street when Carmine went for the door. His hand grasped the handle as Vincent reached him, and Carmine turned in his direction.
“Da—” he started, but Vincent dragged him away before he could react. He cursed and stumbled. “What the fuck? She might be in there!”
“Keep your voice down,” Vincent said. “You can’t just walk in.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” he asked, frantic. “Do you know how long it’s been? Do you know how long she’s been gone? I have to find her!”
