The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,110

made a beckoning gesture at Nicolo, who quickly handed over his pistol. Carmine jammed the gun up under Marcello’s jaw. “Listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.”

Marcello gulped, staring at Carmine with wide eyes.

“You listening?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m listening. What do you want?”

Carmine leaned in close and snarled, “If your boss wants his money in exchange for my men, you tell him he has until midnight tonight to call me and arrange the time and place. He can have his money and he can have your pals.” He pushed the gun even harder into the meaty part beside Marcello’s jawbone, making him whimper. “And if any of those Irishmen are missing, or they’ve been more than just roughed up, I will start breaking bones. When I run out of bones to break, I’ll start burning things down. Do you understand me?”

“Yes!” the wise guy mumbled, blood streaming from his broken nose. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Do you? Then say it.”

“What?”

“Repeat it back to me.” Carmine gave the gun another shove. “What are you gonna tell your boss?”

Almost sobbing now, Marcello sputtered through pain, blood, and tears, “That he’s got till midnight to arrange…to arrange to get his money for your boys.” He gulped painfully. “And that you’ll start busting bones… You’ll bust his men’s bones if anyone on that crew’s got anything more than scrapes. And then you’ll… Then you’ll burn everything down.”

“Good.” Carmine pulled the gun away and stepped back. “Now get out of here.”

Marcello wisely didn’t push his luck. He scrambled into the blood-streaked roadster and drove away while Carmine and his men watched him go.

As the car disappeared around the corner, Paulie arched a brow. “Boss, you sure about this? Going this far for some Irish kids?”

Carmine nodded. “Yeah. I am.” He could see the questions in his men’s eyes, so he added, “Don’t matter what blood they’ve got. These boys have proven their loyalty. They’ve made us a lot of money, and they saved my sister from Enrico il Sacchi. We owe them.” He glared at the men. “All of us.”

Paulie and Nicolo exchanged puzzled looks, but they didn’t push. They knew how this worked—they didn’t have to understand what was going on. They just had to do what they were told.

And hopefully Marcello did what he was told.

Because Carmine wasn’t joking about breaking bones.

Chapter 23

It was impossible to say how long they’d been here.

Thanks to sheer exhaustion, Danny had drifted off once or twice, and it seemed like hours had passed whenever he’d been awake.

No one’s hands were bound anymore, which settled nothing in Danny. It just meant their captors weren’t worried about them fighting or escaping. Danny had no idea how to get out of this cellar, never mind past whoever or whatever waited on the other side.

And anyhow, none of them had the strength to make a run for it. Their captors had been relentless, demanding everything they knew about the Pulvirenti family’s rum running, bootlegging, and hijacking operations. Sometimes when one of the lads came back after being beaten and questioned, he couldn’t look at any of the others, least of all Danny. Danny had wondered for a while what horrible things might have been happening to them that hadn’t yet happened to him, but then the questioning had stopped. They were all just left in here. No one had been back in for hours.

Which meant either they’d given up, or they had what they needed. From the guilt in the eyes of his friends, Danny had a feeling it was the latter option.

He didn’t blame them. It was his fault they were here, and he’d nearly given the Italian sons of bitches what they wanted too, just to make the pain stop. It hadn’t even been the warnings about people connecting him to Enrico il Sacchi that had kept the truth in his throat where it belonged, but his stubborn refusal to betray Carmine.

None of the other lads had any reason to be loyal to Carmine except that he was the gangster who paid them. Danny, he had something else. Something that kept him from breaking even when he desperately wanted to. And if it had gone on much longer, he probably would have broken. For all he cared for Carmine, a man could only take so much.

But he hadn’t needed to break. Someone else had. These gangsters had what they wanted, and now… Now the lads were just waiting for whatever fate would be theirs at the end of