not to think about the fire engulfing the truck. Had he saved Giulia on New Year’s only to deliver her to an even worse fate tonight?
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried not to throw up. If nothing else, he needed to stay calm for the rest of the crew. For those still here and still standing, because the Lord only knew what had become of Francis or Giulia. Acid climbed the back of his throat and he wanted desperately to huddle in a corner and sob with grief and fear, but he had to stay on his feet. He had to stay strong as long as any of the lads could see and hear him. He had to be stronger than he was capable of being.
God, please. If you’ve got a miracle handy, we’d all be much obliged.
They’d been in the room, bound and cold, for a few minutes when a suited Italian that Danny had never seen before strode in. Clearly a gangster and flanked by a pair of enormous wise guys, he stood in front of the row of Irishmen. “I understand youz boys lifted some merchandise that don’t belong to you.”
Danny’s stomach clenched. Maybe Carmine could be talked out of killing someone who’d stolen from him. This guy? There was no telling, and Danny doubted this man had anyone making him swear not to kill or torture this crew of thieves.
“My employer doesn’t take kindly to theft,” the Italian continued. “So I want to know—and my employer wants to know—who youz are stealing for.” He crossed his arms. “Who do you work for?”
No one answered. Danny stared defiantly straight at him, and he hoped the others were doing the same. He’d told them Carmine couldn’t guarantee protection now. That revealing they worked for him, or even for the Pulvirentis, could connect them to what happened on New Year’s. Even using Big Bill’s name likely wouldn’t help them now. These were probably gangsters, not cops or Coasties in Dwyer’s pockets. Danny and the lads were better off keeping quiet, and he prayed they all understood that.
The Italian sighed impatiently. “One more time—who do you work for? No way this ragtag little bunch of hooligans is running your own operation. Tell me who you work for. Now.”
No one spoke. No one moved.
With another sigh, the man turned to one of the others and gave a sharp nod. The other pulled open the door and said something to someone outside.
Danny’s stomach roiled. Were they about to be shot? Was someone coming in to beat confessions out of them? Oh God, what was happening?
Then two cops came into the room and unceremoniously tossed Francis into the middle of the floor. He landed hard and didn’t move.
Bernard swore and looked away. Danny looked skyward and tried not to cry. There were murmurs of both prayers and curses in Irish and English.
“I’m gonna ask you one more time,” the man said coldly, “and unless you want to join your pal, I’d suggest someone answer me. Who do you work for?”
Danny gritted his teeth. Had he been alone, he’d have spit in the man’s face and told him he worked for the Devil himself, and he’d have taken whatever came for that kind of disrespect. But it wasn’t just him now. Anything he said or did could bring harm to one of the friends he had who was still standing. The memory of Hugh’s bullet-riddled body was still too fresh in his mind, and with Francis lying dead at their feet, he had no doubt this Italian was as capable as the men who’d murdered his brothers.
“You.” The man pointed at one of Danny’s guys. “C’mere. Yeah. You.”
Danny wasn’t sure who’d been summoned, but Tommy and Peter both stepped in front of Liam, and Danny’s heart dropped again. Oh, no. No, no, no.
“I said, come here.”
Liam glanced at the others. Tommy and Peter set their shoulders, glaring hard at the wise guy.
The wise guy nodded sharply to the bigger men. They didn’t say a word, just shoved Tommy and Peter aside, toppling them to the floor. One hauled Liam forward, and Tommy and Bernard fought to keep Peter back as he shouted for the men to let his younger brother go.
The wise guy looked Liam up and down. Then he seized him by the back of his neck and slammed him down on the concrete beside Francis’s motionless body. Liam yelped and winced, and Danny could feel the boy’s resolve crumbling from here.
Stay strong,