The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,149

any of my associates again.”

That seemed to ease some of Danny’s worries. “Well, I’m happy to have any distance I can get from those men. Especially Salvatore.” He shuddered.

Carmine frowned. “I wish I could say he won’t be anyone’s problem anymore, but…”

“I know.” Danny stared down at his hands for a long moment before he quietly said, “That thing I told Masseria? About having the Coast Guard tow us in?”

Carmine cocked his head. “Yeah?”

Facing straight ahead, Danny swallowed hard. “That was the last run we did. Before…” He wrung his hands in his lap. “It was the night, uh…”

“The night you were stopped?”

Another nod. With a bitter laugh, Danny said, “We were all full of ourselves that night. Thought we was so smart, getting past the Coasties like that. And then…” His gaze drifted out the window. “We were fearless that night. Just bloody fearless.” Turning to Carmine, he barely whispered, “Now we’re running again, but the lads? They’re all scared now. And so am I.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

They held each other’s gazes. Danny didn’t have to say it. No man wanted to admit he was afraid. No man wanted to be thought a coward.

“Danny.” Carmine touched his knee, the most he dared in the daylight. “After what happened, you and your men would be stupid not to be afraid of them.”

Danny blinked. “You think so?”

“Of course. And hopefully once the Pulvirentis and Morellos finalize everything, you won’t have as much reason to be afraid of that son of a bitch anymore.”

Danny watched him for a moment, then managed a smile. He gave Carmine’s hand a squeeze, and he seemed to relax as he shifted his attention to the windshield.

Carmine kept his hand on Danny’s knee for a moment, then drew it back. Hopefully he’d reassured him. And hopefully he wasn’t lying to him either.

Truth was, there was a part of him that didn’t like the idea of needing another family’s backing to keep his enemies at bay, but he had learned from Maurizio that there were times when a man was smart to swallow his pride and accept the truth.

It was the difference, he’d explained, between a wise guy and a wise man.

Chapter 33

There were few things more relaxing in Danny’s world than sitting back at Daisy’s and watching Gladys sing. The lads had been and gone, collecting their money from the last run and making plans for the next, and Danny had stayed around like he sometimes did. Carmine was dealing with some business elsewhere in the city, and Danny didn’t feel like being alone in the apartment tonight, so instead, he was sitting at the bar with some good brandy and a cigarette, gazing up at the stage.

Tonight Gladys wore glittery green and a wig that was redder than Danny’s hair. There wasn’t a man in the room who wasn’t hypnotized by her. Watching her every move, hanging on her every word, their mouths falling open every time she paused to put her cigarette holder between her bright red lips—she had them all wrapped around her gloved finger.

When she was finished, they applauded and some flirted, and she just smiled graciously, waved, and returned to the bar. There, she caught Danny’s eye and gestured toward the back, so he got up. As long as she was out front, she had to flirt and chat and pour drinks, but she sometimes liked to take a break after her performance, which was what she was doing now.

As he often did, Danny followed her into the back room where he’d been with the lads earlier. With the door closed behind them, Danny sat in the overstuffed armchair while Gladys lounged on one of the sofas, still in her shimmering green dress and gloves with her usual long cigarette holder between her fingers. He poured them each some brandy, then hid the bottle in the compartment beneath the table.

After they’d clinked their cups together, Danny took an appreciative sip of brandy. Lord, but this stuff was worlds above what the club had served before. As much as he’d been loathe to get his friend’s club into business with gangsters, there really was no other way to get liquor in this city. Good liquor, anyhow. And what Danny brought ashore for the Pulvirentis was the good stuff.

It was also a reality that being connected to one of the gangs meant the police mysteriously lost interest in how much alcohol was held or served on the premises. A speakeasy on its own ran the