“He’s my godfather,” he muttered, the agent’s expression instantly lighting up at the word. Carmine shook his head as he clarified. “I was baptized as an infant and my parents named him my godfather.”
“Oh, so he’s like a parent to you?”
“He was.”
“Was?” Cerone asked curiously. “Are you saying he isn’t anymore?”
“He’s fucking dead, isn’t he?” he spat.
“Oh, uh, no.”
Carmine stared at him, hoping he had heard him wrong. “No?”
“No,” he repeated, the confirmation sending Carmine’s heart racing. If Salvatore wasn’t dead, he was in danger—a lot of fucking danger. Not only had he witnessed everything and knew his darkest secrets, the things he would kill anyone to keep from being exposed, but he had also disobeyed an order. There was no way Sal would just forgive and forget. He had too much to lose to give Carmine a pass. “As far as we can tell he fled the scene. We have reason to believe he’s injured, but there’s no evidence he didn’t survive the attack.”
Carmine absorbed that information, trying to keep his expression blank although he was panicking inside.
“How long ago did you initiate?” the other officer asked casually, changing the subject.
Carmine glanced at him, surprised at his nonchalance. “Initiate what?”
“La Cosa Nostra.”
He scoffed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, raising his voice. “We know you’re involved, so there’s no sense denying it.”
“You must’ve watched Scarface one too many times,” he muttered. “That shit’s not real. It doesn’t exist.”
He sighed exasperatedly, giving Carmine an annoyed look. ”We know it exists. We’re not stupid.”
“Neither am I,” Carmine snapped. “Take your bullshit questions about the Mafia elsewhere, because I have nothing to say about it. Period. End of motherfucking story.”
A tense silence fell over the room before Agent Cerone cleared his throat. “I saw her, you know.”
“Who?” Carmine asked, the shift in topic catching him off guard.
“Haven,” he clarified, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile.
“How . . . ?” His confusion deepened. How the fuck? “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about looking her up again.”
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Carmine spat, standing and shoving his chair back in haste. “I swear to God if you—”
Before he could finish, Mr. Borza grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. “Threatening my client’s loved ones isn’t going to help you.”
“I wasn’t threatening anyone. I was simply saying—”
“We’re all well aware of what you were saying,” Mr. Borza said, “and it was nothing but a thinly veiled threat. You claim to want his cooperation, but yet you bring up Miss Antonelli in an attempt to upset him further.”
“I did no such thing,” Agent Cerone said. “As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t care about her. In fact, last we spoke, he denied even knowing her.”
“Then why bring her up at all?” Mr. Borza countered. “I requested once that you stay on topic and it’s clear you have no intention of doing so. Mr. DeMarco agreed to answer your questions, but he’s under no obligation. Given the fact that mere hours ago he witnessed his father’s murder, I’d say he’s been quite forthcoming.”
“He’s given us nothing,” the other officer said, still glaring at Carmine.
“That’s because he has nothing to give,” Mr. Borza retorted. “You can’t get from him what he doesn’t know. Because of that, I’m going to have to say this conversation is over. Either charge him with something or let him go.”