Sempre (Sempre 1)
“We spend too much time in this shithole.” He paused, his expression brightening. “So, what do you wanna do today?”
“Whatever you want to do, Carmine.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the downstairs office and punched in the code to unlock the door. He stepped inside, but she dug her heels in, refusing to follow. “I’m not supposed to go in there. Dr. DeMarco said some doors stay locked for a reason.”
“It is locked for a reason, just like I have a code for a reason.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because my father isn’t always home and sometimes we need shit in here.”
She stared at him, contemplating his words, before hesitantly stepping inside the room. Carmine placed his hand on her hip, kissing the nape of her neck. “See, that wasn’t scary.”
“It’s not the room I’m afraid of,” she muttered. “Why are we in here, anyway?”
“I’m gonna teach you how to use my gun.”
She gaped at him. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? There’s nothing else to do, and I feel like blowing off some steam. Besides, do you know how sexy you’re gonna be shooting something?”
She wasn’t sure. “I don’t think your father would want me to touch a gun after I touched his.”
“You touched Nunzio’s,” Carmine said, matter-of-factly. “He didn’t get mad about that, did he?”
“I was protecting myself.”
“This is the same thing. You never know when you might need to shoot to protect yourself.”
She sighed. So persistent. “Okay, but why are we in here?”
Carmine pulled the rug out of the way and opened a trapdoor in the floor. “Targets. Ammunition. Safety shit. Depending on your mood, maybe a bulletproof vest for me.”
She gaped at him. “I’d never shoot you.”
“I know. Not intentionally, anyway.”
She cautiously walked over to the entrance to the basement, and Carmine held her hand as they headed down the narrow steps. “Terra di contrabbando,” he said when they reached the bottom. “Welcome to the land of contraband.”
Her eyes swept across the concrete room, taking in the massive crates. “Everything down here is illegal?”
“No, but it’s all pretty fucking unsavory,” he said. “The front ones are mainly alcohol.”
“What about the ones in the back?”
“Come on, I’ll show you. Just don’t touch anything.”
She followed behind him, coming to a halt when the guns came into view. Dozens of them hung on the wall in neat rows, arranged meticulously by size. “Whoa.”
Carmine covered his hand with his shirt as he dug through a box behind her. He tried to hand supplies to Haven, but she wasn’t paying attention as she gaped at the weapons.
“What can I say? My father loves his guns.” Carmine opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of bullets. “But you already knew that.”
She tore her eyes away from them. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of guns, though,” he said. “It’s the dumbasses with their fingers on the triggers that you have to worry about. As long as you stay away from them, no problem.”