The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,126
Danny’s jaw, his thumb hitting a tender spot, and he roughly turned Danny’s head. “And does this have to do with what you’ve done to your face?” Before Danny could answer, Rowan let him go. “You were with him the night he was killed, weren’t you?” He jabbed a finger into Danny’s chest. “You and your boys—you were thieving again, weren’t you?”
Danny sighed. “We were. Yes.” He showed his palms. “We haven’t found any other way to make a living in this town, and we—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard it before.” Rowan gestured dismissively. “And I won’t fight with you again about how much it would break Mum and Dad’s hearts if they knew how you made a living, if you call it that.” His voice hardened. “But look me in the eyes, Daniel, and tell me you ain’t working for the Sicilians. Tell me your friend didn’t die because of it, and that it ain’t gangsters sending filthy money to his family.”
Danny really couldn’t look at him now. Guilt and shamed burned as hot as the grief behind his ribs.
Rowan grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him hard against a brick wall. “What is the matter with you? Those men murdered our brothers. You think their spirits are resting easy knowing their baby brother—the boy they and I promised we’d look after in America—is working for—” His voice broke, the anger wavering a little, and he added through clenched teeth, “That their baby brother is working for the Sicilians?”
Danny flinched away from Rowan’s scrutiny.
“They killed our brothers, and now your friend is dead because of them. Look at your own face. When does it end, Daniel? You’ve sold your soul to these—”
“I’ve sold my soul to no one,” Danny snapped, though his voice wasn’t as sturdy as he would’ve liked. “I do a job, I get paid, and I leave.”
“Do you?” Rowan set his jaw. “Then tell me why we’re at your friend’s funeral?”
“That wasn’t because of the men we work for,” Danny replied shakily. “It’s because of them that any of us survived at all.”
“And because of them you were there in the first place!”
Danny pressed his lips together. Rowan was right and they both knew it, and Danny had no idea how to explain to him why working for Carmine hadn’t been something he could avoid, and not just because it meant the difference between starving or not. How could he tell his brother that in the beginning, he’d had no choice but to work for the Pulvirentis in order to be protected from the il Sacchi family? That he had a gangster’s blood on his hands and needed all the help he could get to stay alive?
“Listen to me, Danny,” Rowan said. “I don’t give a damn how rich you’re getting. No brother of mine takes money from Sicilian gangsters, for God’s sake. I don’t—”
“I’m still your brother,” Danny said desperately. “Listen to me, I’m—”
“No, you’re not. As long as you’re part of that family, you ain’t a part of this one.” His last surviving brother took a decisive step back and stabbed a finger at Danny. “You stay away from my wife and children. Do you hear me? Don’t come near any of us until you’ve washed the stink of those murdering bastards off you.”
“Rowan, I’m only trying to survive and to—”
“And how long will you do that, huh?” Rowan snapped. “You just buried one of your friends, same as we buried our brothers. How long until I’m burying you?”
Danny clenched his teeth, fighting back the sudden rush of fear and feelings that stirred up whenever he thought about his ordeal. “Rowan, I’m—”
“Stay away from us,” his brother ground out. “Get yourself right. Until then, I don’t want you near my family.”
With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving Danny standing there beside the churchyard with tears in his eyes and his heart in his throat. He wanted to believe Rowan would come around and see reason, but he didn’t think this was a betrayal Rowan could forgive. Not unless or until Danny renounced his association with the Pulvirenti family.
And it wasn’t that simple. It just wasn’t. Especially not after Salvatore il Sacchi had made clear that he intended to exact revenge for Ricky’s death. There was no telling how much the family could protect Danny—if they could protect him—from Salvatore, but on his own, Danny was good as dead.
But is this life I’m living worth all I’m losing to stay alive?