run.” He swallowed. “So I did. Ran halfway across Central Park before I nearly fell on some ice.”
James was quiet for a moment. “It wasn’t a thing you did out of cold blood, Danny. You were protecting someone who might’ve been hurt otherwise. Or killed. Can’t imagine you had much choice.”
“No, I didn’t. But I still… I mean, I promised my parents and my brother I wouldn’t get involved with gangsters, and now—”
“This hardly counts as getting involved with gangsters. Especially if none saw you.”
“Maybe. But it’s closer to their kind than I wanted to be.”
“I understand. Did the others make it out? The rest of the lads?”
Danny tensed. “I’m not sure. Mathew told me they’d get out and we’ll meet up tomorrow, but I can’t say for sure if they did.” He exhaled. “Damn. I should find out if—”
“Danny.” James pulled him back down before Danny had even realized he’d started to sit up. “Just sleep tonight. They’re all smart, and none of you’s been sent to jail yet.”
“Can’t say the workhouse is much better.”
“All right, that’s true, but the lot of you have probably spent a month in there between you. They’re smart. I have no doubt they got themselves out somehow or another.” He paused, then laughed softly. “Probably in some harebrained way neither of us can imagine now.”
That made Danny chuckle. “You’re probably right.”
“Aye. So don’t worry so much about them.” James wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “Just try to get some sleep. You can’t change what happened tonight.”
“Maybe I should go to confession in the morning.”
“Well.” There was a hint of mischief in James’s voice. “I am a priest, and we can’t see each other, so—”
Danny snorted. “I don’t think they meant confessing to the priest who’s lying in bed with me in the dark.”
“No one specifically says it can’t be.”
Danny laughed, which felt good after the night he’d had, and he relaxed against James. “All right, all right. Go to sleep.”
“You too.” James stroked his hair, and his tone turned a bit more serious. “You think you can sleep?”
Sighing, Danny closed his eyes. “I hope so.”
James and Danny had barely pulled themselves out of the warm bed the next morning when someone banged on the door.
“Oh, Lord,” Danny grumbled. “Suppose I’m lucky they waited until the sun was up.”
James grunted around his cigarette and continued pouring them coffee while Danny went to the door.
Bernard and Tommy stood in the hallway, hugging themselves against the cold. They were pale and exhausted and looked scared half out of their heads. Danny gestured for them to come in, and they immediately went into the parlor to stand close to the fireplace.
Bernard opened his mouth to speak, but he glanced past Danny and gave a sharp nod. “Father.”
Danny turned around. In the doorway, James wordlessly returned the nod. The crew all knew that James sometimes slept here, and if any of them took issue with it, they never said it where Danny could hear.
With the priest in the room duly greeted, Bernard started again, and like Danny had last night, he spoke in hushed Irish. “We’ve got a problem.”
Danny’s gut knotted. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Bernard scowled. “The police caught four of the lads last night.”
Panic shot through Danny. “Four? Who? Are they still in jail?”
“No.” Tommy looked up from warming his hands in front of the fire, and he shook his head. “That’s the strange thing—we never went to jail at all. They let us go. Was Paddy, Liam, Peter and me.”
“So they let you go?” Danny studied them each in turn. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is why they let us go.” Tommy sighed. “Thing is, we was all cuffed, waiting for the cops to take us in, and this gangster comes in. He’s got all our names and everything. Addresses too.”
Danny’s stomach dropped into his feet.
Tommy went on, “He told the cops to let us go. And they did!”
Dread prickled Danny’s spine. It was never that simple with gangsters. “So you were let go…on what condition?”
Eyes locked on Danny’s, Tommy said, “He wants to see you.” Tommy’s expression turned from puzzled to pleading. “He told us the man in charge of our crew has got three days to go to him, or he’ll make sure all four of us do time in the workhouse. A lot of time.”
Danny swallowed. A gangster in that snugly with cops was dangerous. “Who was he?”
“Carmine Battaglia.” Tommy furrowed his brow. “I think that’s the