She got the hint. “I’ll have the stuffed chicken breast with a side salad, please.”
Carmine smirked. “A twelve-ounce New York strip steak for me.”
“How do you want it?” the waitress asked.
“Rare,” he said. “Barely cooked.”
Haven gazed at him peculiarly when the waitress walked away. “I didn’t know you like it that way. I always cook your meat well done.”
“Yeah, two things in life I prefer bloody—my steak and my enemies.”
She shook her head. “You’re too young to have enemies.”
“I wish,” he muttered. “I was born with enemies. My last name alone gives me more than I could ever earn.”
It only took a few minutes for their food to be brought out. Carmine expected things to be edgy since she wasn’t often around people, but she surprised him again. He wondered if there would ever be a time when she didn’t.
He paid the bill before they headed across town to the movie theater. The two of them stood on the outskirts of the waiting crowd, and Carmine took Haven’s hand as he scanned the list of movies. “What are you in the mood for?”
“I don’t really know much about any of them.”
“Well, there’s one about a drugged-up rock star, one about a family with a whole bunch of kids, and one about some kids who get sucked into a game.” She looked at him with confusion on the last one, and he chuckled. “Don’t ask. There’s also some chick flick.”
“Chick flick?”
“Yeah, you know, the lovey-dovey romantic sharing bullshit.”
She laughed. “Any of them are fine by me.”
He led her up to the window and bought two tickets. At the concession stand, he bought a soda and a box of Sour Patch Kids before leading Haven into the packed theater. She hesitated, glancing around, and it dawned on him that this was her first time. It was easy for him to forget sometimes that she was still new to the world and hadn’t experienced the things he took for granted. He squeezed her hand, trying to be reassuring, and chose a seat near the exit in case she felt the need to escape.
She relaxed as he pushed the armrest out of the way and pulled her close to him. The theater finished filling as it significantly darkened. Haven tensed at the thunderous noise coming from the speakers but relaxed again by the time the movie started. He popped a few Sour Patch Kids into his mouth, and Haven eyed the candy before pulling out a piece. Her face contorted as soon as it hit her tongue, and he chuckled. “It’s sour, huh?”
“Yes, but it’s good.”
She took a couple more and watched the movie intently while Carmine spent most of the time focusing on her. They shared the soda and munched on the candy like it was no big deal, but to both of them, it was. Carmine was giving, and Haven had no qualms taking from him.
He felt no anger as she snatched a piece of candy right from his hand, only pride that she had grown so brave. Her guard was down, and little by little, Carmine felt himself cracking too.
He took her hand when the credits rolled, and the two of them slipped out of the theater before everyone else. Haven enthusiastically chatted the entire way home. He had no clue what she was talking about, but he smiled anyway, her happiness making him content.
* * *
Nine men. Nine guns. Almost ninety bullets. One delivery truck full of electronics.
This wasn’t how Vincent had expected to spend his Saturday night.
They were outnumbered two to one. A run-of-the-mill Glock was pointed at Vincent’s chest while he stared down the barrel of a Beretta. The hand of the man holding the Glock shook, telling Vincent he was nervous. For that reason, Vincent chose to aim his revolver at the other one. If Vincent had learned anything, it was that a man with a steady hand wouldn’t hesitate to pull a trigger.
Corrado stood a few feet away, in the midst of a showdown with Ivan Volkov. The two men glared, neither one moving or speaking, with their guns pointed at each other’s heads. Corrado seemed unaware of everyone else around them. Vincent wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
Giovanni held his ground despite the armed men zeroing in on him. The box truck idled, the cramped alley filling with the thick, suffocating fumes. It burned Vincent’s nose and distorted his vision, but he fought to keep his focus. They had been called out by Sal a few minutes earlier, saying a truck Giovanni’s crew had hijacked on the east side of the city was stolen from them by thugs. They had tracked it down, expecting to find amateurs, but came head-to-head with the Russians again.
The man with the Glock was the first to crack. He lowered his weapon and frantically took a step back. Shaking his head, he wordlessly ran out of the alley.
One by one they surrendered, their lack of loyalty astounding. They fled, leaving the three of them with an unruffled Volkov. There was no fear in his expression, no concern in his eyes, no surprise that his men had abandoned their posts.
They were nothing like the Italians. If one of them abandoned la famiglia, they wouldn’t live to see another sunrise.