The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,159

the chain rattling in the parlor’s hollow silence. He’d have recognized the piece of simple jewelry anywhere.

“Is that…” James whispered. “Danny…”

“Eliza’s.” Danny closed his hand around it and pressed it to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold back the flood of fear and emotion. The edges of the crucifix bit into his hand, and he gripped it tighter, focusing on that pain.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even breathe. Rowan had warned him to stay away from the gangsters who’d killed their brothers. He’d shunned Danny until he left this dangerously sinful underworld and returned to an honest life. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with Sicilians or their gangs, and now the gangsters were at his very door. Beyond it—how else could someone have taken Eliza’s crucifix?

A thousand terrible possibilities crashed through Danny’s mind. Rowan, Eliza, the children—any of them could be dead or dying right now. The only thing he was sure of was that someone had gotten close enough to his sister-in-law to take the beloved crucifix that always hung at her throat.

And if Danny didn’t give himself over to Salvatore by midnight, the worst would happen, assuming it hadn’t already.

Lowering his hand, he stood again. “I have to go.”

“Danny.” James took his arm. “You can’t—”

“I can’t just stay here and let il Sacchi murder my family.” Danny narrowed his eyes at James. “Don’t stand in my way. If Salvatore kills me, then he kills me, but he ain’t harming my kin.”

James held his gaze, eyes wide and lips parted. Then he straightened, setting his jaw as he let go of Danny’s arm. “I’m coming with you.”

Danny was already shaking his head. “No, I can’t let—”

“I’m not asking, Daniel,” James snapped.

Danny blinked.

“We’re going,” his friend declared. “And that’s final.”

“I…” Was there any point in arguing? Was there time? “All right. Let’s go, then.”

“What about me?” Liam asked.

Danny touched his friend’s shoulder. “Stay here. If James and I don’t come back, well…” He gulped. “Then tell Carmine where we’ve gone and why.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “If you don’t… Danny… At least, at least tell me where you’re going. In case I have to tell him…”

“We’re going to Rowan’s first. After that, well, I suppose it depends on where we have to go to find Salvatore.”

Liam watched him uneasily, but nodded slowly. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“No.” Danny gestured at Liam’s injured hand. “I won’t have you suffering any more on account of the il Sacchis. Or on account of me.”

“But I—”

“Stay here,” Danny said sharply.

Liam didn’t argue. Deep down, Danny supposed his young friend was relieved. Liam had been through more than enough recently, and Danny didn’t think he was in the least bit a coward for not wanting to face the il Sacchis again.

And anyhow, this wasn’t his fight.

This was Danny’s fight, and Salvatore had made it far more personal than it ever should have been.

You harm a hair on any of their heads, il Sacchi, and no one will ever find what’s left of you.

Danny and James slipped out of Carmine’s house and hurried back toward the more familiar Lower East Side neighborhoods. All the way, Danny was both sick with fear and shaking with pure, murderous fury.

Killing Ricky il Sacchi on New Year’s Eve had been purely the need to keep a man from hurting a woman he looked capable of overpowering. There’d been no malice, no anger—just someone in danger and the need to intervene by any means necessary. Once he’d realized what he’d done—once Ricky’s body had crumpled to the floor and didn’t move again—Danny had been horrified and terrified. He’d never meant to hurt anyone, never mind kill them.

This day? With his sister-in-law’s crucifix in his pocket and his chest full of rage burning hotter than hellfire? He didn’t even need the pistol weighing down his coat pocket—he would tear Salvatore to pieces with his bare hands.

At the corner before the block where Rowan lived, they stopped and gave the streets a careful look. There was no one out of the ordinary. No conspicuous suits among all the people going about their business. No fancy cars standing out amongst pushcarts and the odd truck.

James and Danny exchanged glances, and they both nodded. Then they turned the corner and strode toward Rowan’s building. A few neighbors who knew Danny said hello as they walked past, and nearly everyone acknowledged James. No one seemed uneasy or unnerved, apart from some wide-eyed stares at a priest