The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,151

put on his coat. “I suppose I should be off.”

“Aye, me too.” Gladys motioned toward the back. “Let me change, and I’ll walk with you.”

Danny nodded. “I’ll wait for you outside.” He looked at the thin crowd of men wandering out through the florist shop out front. A bunch of drunk men milling around on the sidewalk? Some looking for a bedmate, others for a fight? He didn’t want to wade through that now, so like he did some nights, he told Gladys, “It’s crowded out there. I’ll wait in the alley.”

Gladys glanced at the exiting crowd, and she shrugged. “All right. Let’s go.” They returned to the back, this time passing by the hidden room and continuing toward the performers’ dressing room. At the end of the hall, she went into the dressing room while Danny continued out the back door into the alley. Though spring had long since arrived, the night was brisk, but he didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t teeming with drunken fools.

As he smoked another cigarette and waited for Gladys, he thought about everything she’d said earlier when they were in the back room. He supposed she was right about his brother. It was still heartbreaking to be turned away by his own kin, and he didn’t know how much time it would take for Rowan to come around. If he could ever come around. Rowan had every right to be angry with him for working with gangsters after all that had happened to their family, but he—

A footstep behind him made Danny freeze.

He turned, but before he could make out features, a fist connected with his jaw. He shouted in surprise and staggered back, clutching his face. The brandy he’d drunk tonight had him off-balance already, and now his vision swam.

When it cleared, he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol.

And behind the pistol was none other than Salvatore il Sacchi.

Slowly, Danny raised his hands. Voice shaking more than he would have liked, he challenged, “If you’re gonna shoot me, then get on with it and shoot me, you coward.”

“Shoot you?” Salvatore laughed, shaking his head. “That would be too easy.” He stepped closer, the light sliding down his face and adding a menacing glint to his eyes. “You killed my brother, so you can bet you’re gonna pay for that with more than a bullet through your head.”

Danny gulped. Most of the gangsters were—at least by reputation—the types to kill their enemies quickly and cleanly…unless there was a score that could only be settled through pain. The weight of Danny’s pistol beneath his jacket conspicuously reminded him how useless the weapon was now. How there was no chance for him to grab it and use it before Salvatore shot him. Though maybe that was what he should do. Then this maniac would kill him quickly and cleanly after all.

“Come on.” Salvatore gestured sharply with the gun. “We’re going for a walk.”

A walk that would end with a one-way drive out to the countryside, Danny was sure.

“Now, Mick,” Salvatore snapped.

Danny kept his hands upraised, and he started toward the end of the alley that Salvatore had indicated. It only took a couple of steps for il Sacchi to minutely lower his guard, and Danny seized the opportunity. He shoved the gun away, and Salvatore cursed in surprise in the same instant he squeezed off a panicked shot. The crack of gunfire nearly deafened Danny, but the bullet flew harmlessly into a brick wall. Danny tried to get the weapon out of Salvatore’s hands, but Salvatore hit him with it, the blow stunning him for a second—long enough for il Sacchi to stagger back and put some space between them.

Danny was reaching for his own gun when the door banged open.

Danny didn’t even have a chance to call out to Gladys and warn her to go back in before Salvatore spun toward her.

Gladys grabbed his outstretched arm and yanked him off-balance, sending the pistol clattering to the ground. Then she twisted his arm—and him—around, and Salvatore’s cry of pain almost muffled the sound of snapping bones. Gladys kicked the gun toward Danny, but her momentary distraction gave Salvatore a chance to break free. He managed to get behind her and sling an arm around her throat, but his advantage lasted only half a heartbeat before Gladys threw him over her shoulder and slammed him on his back with a pained grunt.

Salvatore was briefly stunned, but he kicked Gladys’s knees out from under her.