The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,155

exhausted. Heavy circles under bloodshot eyes. Pale skin. Distant gazes. From the marks on both their faces, especially the priest’s split lip and the scrape on his cheekbone, whatever had happened hadn’t been all that long ago. Last night, Carmine guessed.

As Carmine was sitting down, Father Carroll picked up his coffee cup, and Carmine noticed the man’s knuckles were raw and bruised. Not as if they’d been scraped on bricks or concrete—as if he’d fought, and he’d fought hard. From the scars on his hands, especially the thick one extending from the back of his hand up his sleeve, he was no stranger to violence. Odd, considering how soft-spoken he’d been when Carmine had met him and Danny in the hall. Then again, Carmine had a few men who said little, but could and did get their point across with their fists. It made him wonder who Father Carroll had been before he’d taken his vows.

There was no time for that, though. He and Danny had come here, fresh bruises on their faces and fear in their eyes, and that was what mattered now.

Eyes flicking back and forth between the pair of Irishmen, Carmine asked, “So what happened?”

“Salvatore il Sacchi.” Danny swallowed like it was painful. “I was in an alley outside a club, waiting for my friend to come out, and he…” He gestured shakily at his face, then at Father Carroll. “He stepped in.” Danny paused, then added with a nervous laugh, “I think he broke il Sacchi’s arm.”

Father Carroll chuckled, the coffee cup trembling just slightly in his bruised and battered hand, but he said nothing.

How was a priest in an alley behind a nightclub?

But nothing about either of them made Carmine think they were lying, and the priest had apparently saved Danny and hurt Salvatore in the process. The story was odd, but it didn’t seem untrue, and both men were—thank God—alive and well.

Carmine studied them. “And you’re all right? Both of you?”

They exchanged looks, and both nodded.

“We are,” Father Carroll said. “I won’t lie and tell you it didn’t leave me shaken, but we’re both alive and no worse for the wear.”

“Good. Good. And you’re sure it was Salvatore?”

“I’d know that face anywhere,” Danny said, and Carmine believed him. Danny’s eyes were full of more fear than Carmine had seen in him since the night Agosto il Sacchi had tried to drive off with him. “He put a gun to my head, and he told me he’s going to kill me, but he’s not going to shoot me. He wants me to suffer for what I did to his brother.” Gesturing at Father Carroll, he added, “That’s when he stepped in, thank God.”

Thank God indeed. Carmine was about to speak, but Father Carroll spoke first.

“I want him to go back to Ireland and be safe from all this.” The priest looked pointedly at Danny. “But he’s stubborn as the day is long and won’t budge.”

“I’m not going,” Danny said with all that stubbornness on full display. “I’m not running so Salvatore tortures and kills everyone I love to get to me.”

Carmine chewed the inside of his cheek. “You both might be right.”

They looked at him, brows furrowed.

Carmine sighed, shifting in the chair and pressing his elbow into the armrest. “Danny, you would be safer back in Ireland. There’s no—I’m not finished.” He put up a hand as Danny started to protest. “There’s no place in New York where you’re safe. Not while Salvatore is still alive.” He lowered his hand and started tapping his nails on the armrest. “So I think that’s our solution.”

Danny and the priest glanced at each other.

“You mean…” Danny sat straighter, eyeing Carmine warily. “Kill Salvatore?”

Carmine shrugged tightly. “This isn’t a man who’s gonna back down while the man who killed his brother is still alive. He’s not interested in seeing reason or in negotiating peace. Ricky is dead, and that’s all that matters to Salvatore.”

Father Carroll shifted with obvious discomfort. “Mr. Battaglia, I’m not here to tell you how to run your business or to question matters I don’t understand, but are you… Are you suggesting putting a hit on—”

“I’m suggesting that this won’t end with Danny and Salvatore still standing,” Carmine said coolly. “And I don’t know about you, Father, but I’d rather it was Danny who came out in the end.”

The priest glanced at Danny again, swallowing hard. Carmine fully expected him to shake his head and tell them both that God would never approve of such a