The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,118

locked on Carmine’s in the near-darkness. Wordlessly, he nodded.

Carmine gave Danny’s hand a squeeze, then got out of the car. On the way up the steps to the butcher shop, his fingers were cool with the absence of Danny’s, but he pretended not to notice.

Inside, Bernice looked at them, but she didn’t react much to the sight of Danny’s bruised face. God knew she’d seen it all in here. She said nothing, though, except, “Good evening, sir.”

Carmine nodded to her, then paused and looked back at Danny. “You hungry?”

Danny tongued the cut on his lip, and he nodded. “Aye. There wasn’t much for food…”

To Bernice, Carmine said, “See what you can do about getting him something to eat.”

She nodded and picked up the telephone as Danny and Carmine continued across the butcher shop. After they’d stepped through the door in the back, Danny balked. “Uh. Shouldn’t I…” He gestured at his face.

Carmine shook his head. “Not tonight. If I can’t trust you by now, I shouldn’t trust anyone.”

Danny blinked, but he didn’t protest, and he followed Carmine down the stairs and a short hallway. Strung every few feet from the low ceiling, bare bulbs lit the way through the tunnel.

Carmine ducked under a protruding pipe. “Watch your head.”

“Thanks,” Danny said dryly. “Much easier to avoid when I can see.”

At the end of a second hallway, Carmine stopped and took a key out of his pocket.

Danny gave him a puzzled look. “We’re not going into your office?”

“No, we are.” Carmine pushed open the door and motioned for Danny to go ahead. “In here.”

“But…” Danny glanced over his shoulder. “But it always seems like miles.” He stepped inside as he added, “I swear it’s farther than this.”

Carmine laughed quietly as he shut the door behind them. “I can’t take the chance of someone memorizing the way. So Sal took you back and forth, up and down the stairs, turned you around…” He shrugged. “He does it to anyone who comes down here.”

Danny stared at him. Then, shaking his head, he gave a soft laugh. Probably the most he could muster right now. “I can’t believe it. No wonder it never quite felt like the same way.” He paused. “Why is your office this far underground, anyway?”

Carmine shrugged, looking around. “We found the tunnels while we were building the speakeasy.” Meeting Danny’s gaze again, he added, “Why use someplace that can be found and broken into when we have…” He gestured at their surroundings.

“Aye, I can see that. Pretty sure even my crew wouldn’t be able to get in here.”

“You can try. Though I don’t know that I’d recommend it.”

Their eyes met, and Danny managed another faint, weak laugh, but that only reminded Carmine of how scared his rum runner had been. How much he’d probably been through, and how quickly and easily things could have happened very differently tonight.

Which was exactly why they’d come down here.

At his desk, Carmine opened a drawer and withdrew a small box. “I want you to keep this with you everywhere you go.” He unlatched the lid. “Everywhere. Even church.”

Danny’s eyes widened at the sight of the revolver. “I’ve never… I mean, I had my gun when we were on the water, but—”

“You need this with you all the time.” Carmine closed the box and pushed it into Danny’s hands. “There’s twenty-four rounds in there. The gun holds six. If you need more, say the word.”

Danny stared at the box in his hands. He whispered something Carmine didn’t understand. It might’ve been in Irish. It might have been a prayer. Danny was hard to read right now, as if he were trying with all his might to be strong and stoic, but he was a breath away from cracking. Carmine didn’t know what Danny needed from him. What would provide comfort and what would make everything worse.

Then Danny shook himself and put the box on the edge of Carmine’s desk. “I don’t suppose you’ve still got some of that brandy.”

“I do. Need a drink?”

“Aye. Please.”

Neither of them spoke as Carmine poured them each a glass. He poured Danny’s generously; God knew the kid had earned more than a shot.

Danny swallowed most of it at once, and he didn’t even grimace.

“Better?” Carmine asked.

Danny nodded. “Ain’t much that isn’t better than…” He waved a hand.

Carmine watched him for a moment. “How badly did they hurt all of you?”

Staring into the glass, Danny didn’t respond immediately. When he did, the words came out as a ragged whisper. “They beat up