The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,147

accept it.

“I don’t know what in the world is possible for two men like us,” he said. “But whatever is possible, I want it. All of it.”

Carmine nodded, running his fingers through Danny’s hair. “So do I.”

They gazed at each other for a moment. Then Carmine drew Danny down into a kiss, and Danny shivered. Never in his life had he felt so simultaneously safe and alive as he did in the bed and the arms of this gangster who had, before his eyes, gone from everything Danny hated to everything he needed, wanted, craved. It didn’t make sense, how they’d made it from there to here, only that they had, and maybe it was wrong to pray while this gangster was still deep inside him, while his skin and his blood were still hot with sin and desire, but he did anyway.

Lord, please, whatever I have to do…

Don’t let me lose this man.

Chapter 32

After the other night, Carmine would never be able to look at Danny in a suit—especially in that suit—without getting gooseflesh. At the same time, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to ride in the back of this car with Danny and not go back to the night he’d almost lost him. Such a strange mix of feelings as they sat in silence while Fedele took them across town to the place they’d agreed to meet Joe Masseria.

Fedele stopped in front of a café on First Avenue, and Danny and Carmine got out. Sal stepped out of the front, and they exchanged glances on the way into the café. Carmine had never been to this place before. He didn’t know if it was owned by the Morello family, or just a place where Masseria liked to do business.

Inside, a few people were dining, and they threw wary looks toward Carmine, Danny, and Sal as they removed their hats in the doorway. Understandable, he supposed; most people accepted that gangsters were part of life in this city, but they would still get visibly nervous when they saw them.

The three new arrivals had no quarrel or business with the diners, though, and they followed a waiter into a dimly lit back room. Here, Joe Masseria sat at a table with Giuseppe Morello standing behind him and some burly men around the edges of the room—security, no doubt.

Joe rose and extended his hand. “Mr. Battaglia.”

Carmine accepted it and nodded sharply. “Mr. Masseria.” When they released each other’s hands, Carmine gestured at Danny. “This is my associate, Daniel Moore. He’s the leader of my crew of rum runners.”

The two men shook hands, and at Joe’s invitation, Danny and Carmine sat down. There was food and wine, of course, and pleasant conversation, but the whole time, Carmine’s skin itched as he watched the men scrutinizing Danny. The sharp-eyed consigliere especially watched Danny intently, making him squirm throughout the meal.

After their plates had been cleared away, Joe dabbed his mouth with a linen napkin. “Now we’ve got some business to discuss, gentlemen.”

“We do,” Carmine said.

Joe’s gaze went straight to Danny. “Tell me, Mr. Moore… I want to hear about how you and your boys operate.”

Danny shifted in his seat, glancing at Carmine. “What is it you want to know?”

“Tell me how you get the liquor from out there to Carmine’s warehouses.” Joe sat back, crossing his arms and cocking his head. “What kind of boats you got out there?”

“We, um, we haven’t got our own boats.”

Joe stiffened. Behind him, so did Morello. The boss cocked his head. “What do you mean you don’t have boats? You swimming out there or something?”

Danny laughed nervously. “No, sir. Nothing like that.” He shrugged. “It’s just that I’ve yet to find a boat tied so securely my men can’t untie it, or one that none of my men can drive.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes, sir. Yachts. Fishing boats. Speedboats. We even take Coast Guard boats now and then.”

Joe blinked. “You’ve taken Coast Guard boats?”

Danny nodded, and he glanced at Carmine as a wicked little grin formed on his lips. “It’s easy, if I’m honest. Just takes some bribes and burglaries, but there’s been a time or two that we’ve outfitted ourselves like a crew of Coasties, stole one of their patrol boats, and then ‘confiscated’ liquor from a few other crews.”

“How did you manage to stop them? The other crews?”

“Pulled up on them just like the Coasties pull up on us. If they had a speedboat, then we made sure they was slowed down before they ever