The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,123

eyes sting. He was exhausted, and just thinking about Francis made his heart ache. “You heard about him, then?”

“Battaglia had his men contact Father O’Reilly. About making sure Francis had a proper burial.”

Somehow, Danny wasn’t surprised Carmine had taken care of his friend that way. He’d known Carmine meant to pay for his burial, but it was a relief to know he’d also taken care to get Francis back to his family.

“Danny.” James came a little closer, his voice soft. “What happened out there?”

“It was…” Danny’s eyes stung and his throat tightened. The sandwich he’d eaten earlier was heavy in his stomach, and he had to swallow a few times to be sure it would stay where it belonged. Through his teeth, he said, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all night.”

Danny sighed, but said nothing. Gentle hands appeared on his shoulders, their weight nearly pushing him to his knees, and he had to fight hard against the flood of grief and guilt that wanted to break free now that he was alone with James.

“Daniel. Look at me.”

Danny swallowed, gaze fixed for a moment on the gun he’d brought home. Then, steeling himself, he faced his boyhood friend.

James’s eyes were instantly huge. “What on earth happened to you?” He gently lifted Danny’s chin so he could inspect his battered face. “Are you all right?”

“Aye, I’m—”All right? Lord. No. He was the farthest he’d been from all right in a long time. His knees trembled. Everything seemed to tremble. Somehow he’d held himself together while he’d been with Carmine in that underground office, but here in his kitchen with James, every bit of him wanted to shake apart.

Without a word, James wrapped his arms around him, and Danny sank into the embrace as some hot tears slipped free. If there was one man on God’s green earth who he could handle seeing him this way, it was James, and tonight James’s arms gave Danny the strength he needed to just swallow his damned pride and break. He let it all come crashing down—the fear, the guilt, the pain, the grief. He cried for what the il Sacchis had done to Francis. For how they’d broken Liam. For how they’d beaten and threatened every last one of them until they knew Danny had killed Ricky.

He let the relief come pouring out too. Apart from Francis—God rest his soul—they’d survived. Giulia had made it out unscathed. God willing, Tommy and Liam would both recover. As much as they could be, they were safe now. Carmine had, to the best of his ability, kept his word about protecting Danny and his crew. The ordeal had been beyond any nightmare Danny had ever had, but it was over now. He was safe, warm, and leaning on someone with a soft voice and a gentle touch.

And it wasn’t the first time tonight he’d leaned on someone this way. Maybe he hadn’t cried on Carmine’s shoulder, but there’d been tenderness in that moment that had breathed some life back into him. Enough to keep him standing and get him home.

Enough he couldn’t doubt any longer that Carmine cared for him.

Why was that enough to warm his soul on a night when everything was so bleak and cold? It didn’t chase away all the pain and guilt, but it was more of a salve than it had any right to be.

He drew away from James and wiped his eyes as he caught his breath. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” James kept a hand on Danny’s shoulder, precariously close to a throbbing bruise. “Why don’t we sit down? You look about to collapse.”

Now that he mentioned it, Danny felt the part. They moved into the tiny bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Danny let his head fall forward, and he rubbed the back of his aching neck with both hands.

“What happened?” James asked.

Danny closed his eyes. Just thinking about it all made him want to be sick, but he took a deep breath and told James everything from the moment they’d been stopped on Long Island until Carmine had freed him from il Sacchi. He didn’t mention the conversation they’d had in the basement office. Or how they’d touched. Not now.

By the time he’d finished telling James everything, Danny was trembling all over again. James wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

Danny sniffed. “I thought I was a dead man when we left. And then those cops stopped us, and Carmine showed up, and…” He shook his head.