The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,127

his eyes.

Footsteps approached behind him. He hoped it was James—there wasn’t anyone in this world he could face right now besides him or Carmine—but it wasn’t just one person. Someone’s gait was uneven. Limping.

Danny swallowed hard, and he knew before he turned who it was.

There, somber, battered, and bruised, were the men who’d also survived the ordeal with the il Sacchis. Bernard. Peter. Paddy. Mathew. Liam. Tommy. The lot of them were dazed and haunted, their eyes red, tired, and surrounded by angry bruises. Tommy leaned hard on Mathew, still wavering a bit as if he weren’t quite steady on his feet. Liam’s expression was distant and blank, his hand wrapped in plaster and held tightly to his side. Bernard was always so together, so collected, but right now, he just looked lost. The whole crew looked lost.

Danny’s heart already hurt from watching Rowan walk away, and now it hurt even more. Francis had never been more gone than he was just now. Not when his body had been motionless at their feet. Not when Father O’Reilly had been praying for his soul. As the lads stood together in shell-shocked silence, their terrible ordeal painted all over their faces, Francis was well and truly gone for good.

They all stood for a long moment, silent and shaken, before Danny realized they were watching him, waiting for him to say something. He’d been the de facto leader of their little band of thieves for a long time, and anyhow, he’d brought them into the Pulvirenti fold. He was their liaison with Carmine Battaglia. He just had no idea what he was meant to say now. Offer comfort? Tell them all…what, exactly?

Peter finally broke the silence. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” Danny swallowed. “If any of you don’t want to do any more runs, I’ll understand.”

“You will,” Paddy said. “But what about Mr. Battaglia?”

“I’ll handle him. I’ll tell him…” Danny’s hand suddenly itched where Carmine’s had covered it in the car. Where they’d made that forbidden contact in the shadows. He quickly cleared his throat. “I’ll tell him something. I just need to know which of you lot is still in, and who’s out.”

The boys exchanged nervous looks.

“How much choice have we got?” Mathew asked.

“We’re not made men,” Danny said. “We ain’t sold our souls or done nothing for them that’s—”

“You don’t think there’s a debt after what happened the other night?” Bernard’s usual cynicism sounded weak and tired. “You think we haven’t sold our souls, but no one works for gangsters and then just walks away.”

“That isn’t what I meant, though,” Mathew said. “Where we gonna find the kind of money Battaglia pays us? I don’t want to sell my soul or lose any more of you, but we’ve all got families to feed and rent to pay.”

“We do,” Danny acknowledged. “But we’ve also got a friend in the ground, and Lord knows we’ve all been through more than any of us bargained for.”

No one argued.

Danny took a breath. “Take tonight. Take a few nights. Every one of you. Grieve for Francis. Think about this job and if it’s one you’re willing to do. Make a decision. Then tell me if you’re in or if you’re out.”

In the past, the whole crew would’ve stubbornly shaken their heads, told him they didn’t need the time, and that they needed to start planning their next run.

But today, there were solemn nods all around. Everyone exchanged nervous, weary glances.

And for the life of him, Danny had no idea who among them would be back for another run.

Even if they did, he wasn’t so sure he’d be among them.

Chapter 26

Maurizio backhanded Carmine across the face hard enough to send him staggering back a couple of steps. “What were you thinking?”

Rubbing his jaw, Carmine glared defiantly back at him. “They kidnapped a crew of my rum runners. They killed one of them. That couldn’t go unanswered.”

“You idiot!” Maurizio spat. “I am trying to arrange for peaceful alliances with powerful men, and you’re starting wars? What is the matter with you?”

Carmine dabbed blood from the corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t starting a war. I was refusing to let il Sacchi disrespect our family, apprehend our crew, and steal our merchandise.”

“After you hired the boy who you knew killed Enrico il Sacchi!”

“Yes.” Carmine held the boss’s glare. “My loyalty is to the Pulvirentis, but it’s also to the Battaglias. I owed that man a debt for saving my sister’s life.” He narrowed his eyes. “And