The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,122

and exhaled. He was beyond relieved that Danny was safe. That he’d been able to save most of the crew. Maurizio wouldn’t be happy, and Salvatore il Sacchi wouldn’t rest until he’d avenged his brother’s death, and Carmine would have to deal with both of those things sooner than later.

But tonight, Danny was safe. Giulia was safe.

And Carmine could face anything else that came his way.

Chapter 25

Danny rode alone in the car. It would be conspicuous enough, getting out of a car like this in the middle of the night. He didn’t need to risk someone on his block seeing him riding with Carmine Battaglia.

Still, as Carmine’s driver took him through the dark streets of the Lower East Side, Danny wished Carmine was here. From the moment Bernard had stopped at that road block on Long Island, Danny hadn’t felt safe. Not until he’d been in the backseat of this car with Carmine beside him. Carmine’s absence now left him certain he was heading right back to that dark, bloody basement. It didn’t have to make sense. He didn’t like being alone now. He didn’t like being away from Carmine.

He stared down at the box in his lap. It was heavy already, and seemed even heavier now. Carmine wanted him to carry a gun? Not only like he already did when he and the crew were on a run, but all the time? Even to church?

Danny closed his eyes and sighed, thumbing the edge of the box. This was his life now. One gangster giving him a gun to defend himself against another. When did it end? Did it end?

The driver stopped in front of Danny’s building.

“Thanks,” Danny mumbled, and he got out. The car pulled away, taking most of the light with it, and Danny shivered before he started up the stoop. Each step felt like his shoes were full of lead. His entire body ached, and the fatigue was heavy around his neck and shoulders. The box in his hands was even heavier—he was sure if he twisted just right, its weight would send him tumbling down the steps.

Inside the foyer, the stairs were dark, and Danny was halfway up before he remembered there was a light now. He could switch it on and see his way. But he didn’t. There were windows between the hallway and the other apartments, and he didn’t want to wake his neighbors at this hour.

And anyhow, that light was bought and paid for by the money that had bought these shoes that weren’t falling apart… this coat that kept him proper warm… the food inside his apartment on the third floor… the gun he held tightly under his arm…

He sighed, leaning hard on the bannister as he reached the top step. He trudged around to the next flight, the creak of beams under his feet painfully loud. He was sure his neighbors would wake up and come out here and demand to know why he was bruised and beaten and making all that noise in the dead of night.

Why have you brought those gangsters and their money into our building?

But no one woke up. No lights came on and no doors opened, anyhow, and when he reached his own door, he fumbled with numb fingers to unlock it. Seemed a small miracle his key hadn’t disappeared during his time with the il Sacchis. One of his friends was lost, another was down a couple of teeth, but Danny’s house key had stayed safe and sound in his jacket pocket. The world didn’t make sense anymore.

With some effort, he pushed open the door and shuffled inside. Some warmth lingered in the kitchen, which meant James must have been here. Or he’d been here earlier.

Movement in the bedroom confirmed it—James was here. Thank the Lord. Danny didn’t want him to see him this way, and he was sure James would be entirely a stern priest tonight instead of his friend, but nevertheless, he was glad for the company.

The light came on, and Danny flinched away from the glow.

“Danny?” James asked sleepily. “Where’ve you been?” He sounded alarmed. “Are you all right?”

Back to him, Danny tried to laugh as he put the pistol’s box on the tiny table. “You say that as if I don’t disappear for days at a time.”

“I don’t worry when you disappear, but I do when one of your friends turns up dead and you don’t turn up at all.”

Danny’s teeth snapped shut, which hurt, but that wasn’t what made his