yet…” Il Sacchi snapped the cylinder into place, making Danny jump. “My nephew died that night. Because of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered. “It wasn’t… We never meant—I never meant to—”
“Nevertheless.” The icy stare made Danny impossibly cold, and the drive continued in silence. All the while, Danny prayed like he hadn’t prayed in years. Short of the Lord showing up in person, he didn’t imagine he was getting out of this alive, so he just prayed for a swift death. No suffering for him and his friends.
Just please, please make it quick.
The car at the front of the caravan turned left. One by one, the others followed, and Danny’s heart thumped as they pulled into a dark, empty stretch of road between a couple of warehouses. The road led them to a wider expanse of darkness. Danny thought it might have been an empty loading area down by one of the docks.
Up ahead, cars began to stop. The vehicles ahead of his car pulled up next to each other, forming a row, and the car Danny was in stopped behind them.
“Why are we stopping?” il Sacchi growled over his shoulder.
“Can’t go no further, boss,” the driver said.
Il Sacchi turned around. “Why not?”
“There’s—”
All at once, the darkness gave way to blinding light. Danny flinched, and after he’d blinked the spots away, he cautiously looked again.
Up ahead, a row of a dozen or so cars faced them, headlights on.
Il Sacchi swore under his breath. Then he reached for the door, but he paused to gesture at Danny. “Bring him.”
One of the wise guys grabbed Danny’s arm and pulled him roughly from the car. They stepped out into the silent night, and Danny had no choice but to follow il Sacchi and his boys past the row of cars and into the sea of headlights. Body aching, heart racing, and stomach churning, he followed, terrified of how much worse this whole situation was about to get.
He was vaguely aware of other voices and footsteps behind him. Bernard’s voice. Tommy’s shuffling gait. Mathew swearing at someone who must’ve grabbed him.
But Danny kept his attention fixed on what was ahead. Through his fingers, he stared at the row of light, his heart going wild as he tried to work out what was going on.
Il Sacchi halted, and the wise guy gripping Danny’s arm made him stop too.
Beyond the blinding lights in front of them, a car door shut. Sharp footsteps broke through the silence of the night.
Danny held his breath, squinting as he tried to focus on the shadow emerging from between two of the cars.
The figure stepped beyond the headlights, and when Danny’s eyes finally focused enough to make sense of features, he sucked in a breath and his knees nearly buckled.
Carmine.
“I brought your boys and your money, il Sacchi,” Carmine said. “How about you let my men go?”
“Show me.”
Carmine gestured at someone. There was movement, and then two Italians with black eyes were shoved into view. Another man stepped forward with a bundle not unlike those Danny always took with him from the butcher shop. Probably cash.
Agosto nodded to one of his men. For a long moment, no one spoke as Agosto’s wise guy checked the money. Finally, he turned to il Sacchi and nodded sharply. “It’s all here, boss.”
“All right, then.” Carmine lifted his chin. “Let’s see the boys.”
Danny was shoved forward a step. Behind him, more footsteps and voices, and the rest of the lads were pushed into Carmine’s view.
“There they are,” Agosto said. “All in one piece, just like you asked.”
Carmine looked over the crew, then nodded. “Good. Now let’s—”
“These boys say they work for you.” Il Sacchi’s lip curled into a sneer. “Why am I not surprised that the Venetian’s got Micks working for him?”
Carmine’s jaw was tight, but otherwise, he didn’t react to the insults. “Let’s settle this like businessmen, il Sacchi. These boys were doing a job.”
“And their job was to steal my merchandise?”
Carmine shrugged unrepentantly. “It’s the nature of this business. You’ve been paid for every drop they stole on my behalf and then some.”
“That’s not enough for—”
“And one of theirs was killed,” Carmine went on, voice cold. “He’ll need a funeral. His family will need help.” Carmine narrowed his eyes. “Rather than let the papers find out Agosto il Sacchi had a young man murdered, how about I cover those expenses, and you and I call it even?”
Il Sacchi glared at him. “They’ve stolen more from me than a couple of funerals’ worth of—”
“And I’ve