The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,132

and when we do, we go back. It’s gonna be that way for a while.” He squeezed Liam’s shoulder. “We’re not keeping you ashore forever. We’re all trying to get our feet back under us again today, and I don’t even know how it’ll go for us. Just be a lookout tonight, and I promise, we’ll have you out on the boats again soon.”

With a resigned sigh, Liam nodded. “All right. But I’m holding you to your word—I won’t be on watch every bloody night.”

“You won’t. I swear it.” Danny gave the lad’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now go keep watch. I’d better make sure the others aren’t stealing another Coast Guard boat.”

That got a weak laugh out of Liam, and the two of them headed in opposite directions.

Danny glanced back, and he gnawed his lip as he kept walking toward the marina. Truth was, he’d have been happy to keep Liam ashore indefinitely. Or keep him in Manhattan. He’d hoped against hope that both Peter and Liam would be finished with rum running after what had happened, but they’d both been at Daisy’s last night, raring to go.

He had a feeling Liam would be ready to go out on the water long before Danny was ready to let him. And that didn’t even make sense—the trouble hadn’t been out on the water. It had been onshore…where Danny was confining Liam for the moment. Damn. Where was the boy safest?

Back in Manhattan, that’s where.

Well, he was here now, and Danny would never out-stubborn him, so he just prayed nothing happened onshore while he and the others were at sea.

When Danny reached the dock, Paddy was getting situated in the speedboat he’d take out after the crew had left, giving them time to reach the ships before he started burning fuel. Mathew and Bernard had commandeered a yacht that was, as much as any yacht could be, modest. It was extravagant and huge, towering over fishing boats as Mathew steered it out into the water, but it was dwarfed by some of the other vessels moored nearby.

None of them spoke as they left the harbor. They exchanged uneasy looks, but they were quiet, at least for a while.

“Come on, lads.” Bernard squeezed Danny’s shoulder and looked from one man to the next. “We did this before, we can do it again.”

“Of course we can,” Mathew said. “But it’s the first time since…”

They exchanged glances again.

The first time since the trouble.

The first time since we lost Francis.

“I know it’s not easy,” Bernard said, his voice unusually gentle, “but it’s what we do. It’s what we’re good at.” He paused, and then with a sad smile, he added, “Let’s do it for Francis.”

Danny winced at the mention of their friend’s name, but he had to smile too. If Francis knew they were all melancholy and nervous on such an easy run, he’d be cuffing their heads and warning them to be men.

“It’s just a boat and some liquor,” he could almost hear Francis saying. “You punk out of this and I’ll toss the lot of you overboard.”

The thought made him laugh softly, and he nodded. “Bernard’s right. Let’s do it for Francis.”

Mathew glanced back and forth between them, but he finally smiled too. “For Francis.”

In somewhat better but still subdued spirits, they continued out to sea.

There wouldn’t be any wild plans today. A speedboat to distract the Coast Guard. A stolen boat to make the run to the ships twelve miles offshore. Go out, get the liquor, come in. Once they had their sea legs again, once they could think past the grief and fear, they’d begin their more creative endeavors again.

It was strange to be out on a run now. The familiar bob of the sea and the thrill of slipping past the Coast Guard—it was odd, and it was good, and Danny felt closer to seasick than he ever had. Even more than the first day or two aboard the ship that had brought him and his brothers to New York.

But the longer they were out, the better he was. The brisk, salty wind was exhilarating. The bounce of the boat across the water, the weightlessness when it crested a wave, the steady rocking when it idled beside the liquor merchant—it all made him feel alive in ways it hadn’t before. As if being out here buying and loading liquor for the Pulvirentis again meant, more than anything had, that he’d survived the ordeal with the il Sacchis. That his friends, save