The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,160

with a black eye. There was no sign that anyone had heard or seen any violence here recently.

Maybe that means they’re not here.

Maybe he’s taken them someplace else.

Maybe they’re already…

Heart thumping and stomach churning, Danny hurried up the stoop and into Rowan’s building. As the front door banged shut behind them, the stairwell was dim even during the day, but the buzzing electric lights were better than the near-total darkness that had shrouded the interior when Rowan had moved in. Danny wondered if his brother ever suspected it was him who’d paid the super to install lights and better plumbing. That it was bootlegger money from the hands of gangsters that had paid for it all.

Acid crawled up the back of his throat.

I brought them light and water, but what kind of darkness came with it?

Rowan lived on the fourth floor. As Danny cleared the top step on the third floor, movement from the corner of his eye nearly made him stumble. He thought for a heartbeat he’d imagined it, but then a shadow resolved itself into something solid and came at him.

Before Danny could react, James shoved him aside, lunged past him, and tackled the man to the floor in a flurry of Italian curses.

All at once, the hallway and stairwell were alive with activity. Someone got an arm around Danny’s neck. He shoved his elbow back. Missed. Tried again. Made contact this time and earned a grunt of pain just before the arm loosened around his throat and Danny slipped free.

Someone grabbed James, and the two of them grappled precariously close to the stairs.

“James, the stairs!” Danny called out. “Watch your—”

But it was too late.

One of them—it was difficult to say which—lost his footing, and both James and the wise guy tumbled down the stairs. They landed hard at the bottom.

Neither got back up.

Danny opened his mouth to cry out his friend’s name in anguish, but a rough hand clamped over it, muffling his voice.

“You want your family to live?” came a gruff voice.

Danny froze.

“You hold still,” the man snarled in his ear, “and you walk out of here with us without making a scene. You got that?”

Danny flicked his gaze toward James and the wise guy, both of whom remained perfectly still. These men weren’t above killing a priest, and he couldn’t dare take for granted they wouldn’t kill his brother, sister-in-law, or the children. What choice did he have?

So he squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the sting of tears and, as much as he could with the hand clamped over his mouth, he nodded.

“All right, then.” The hand loosened. “Walk.”

He wiped his eyes, and he started walking. Down the stairs. Past James’s motionless body. He thought one of the others stopped to check the men who’d fallen, but Danny didn’t turn around to see. He wasn’t sure he could bear watching someone confirm what he already knew.

They continued walking. Down more stairs. Out into the bright afternoon and the bustle of people who had no reason to think anything was awry.

Half a block later, a car pulled up. Danny got in. So did the other men.

Then the car drove away, leaving the neighborhood behind, along with James and whatever had become of Danny’s family.

And there was nothing Danny could do.

Chapter 36

“What do you mean, he left?” Carmine barked into the telephone, voice booming in his tiny office.

“Some of Salvatore’s boys talked to Danny’s crew,” Giulia said quickly. “They told them to tell Danny he had until tonight to hand himself over, or they were killing his family.” She paused. “They had something—a necklace, I think—that proved they’ve been close to the family. Danny and the priest left, but I don’t know what they planned to do.”

Carmine swore. “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

He hung up the telephone, grabbed his hat and coat, and hurried out of the office.

In the underground hallway, Sal fell into step behind him. “What’s going on, boss?”

“Il Sacchi’s making a move on Danny. He’s threatening his family.”

Sal muttered something Carmine didn’t catch, but he got the message well enough. You didn’t mess with another man’s family.

The question was, where was Danny? Because if he’d already handed himself over to Salvatore, he could be dead. Or well on his way to dead. If Salvatore il Sacchi and his men were taking Danny for a drive, they could be miles ahead of Carmine already, going in any number of directions. Danny could already be floating in the Hudson or rolling in with the Atlantic