The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,162

blood, then there will be war.”

Carmine ground his teeth. “Danny could already be dead. They beat up a priest.” He flailed a hand at Father Carroll. “We don’t have time for diplomacy.”

“We don’t have time for war. I will call Agosto il Sacchi, and we will negotiate.”

“And what if negotiations don’t work? Then what? Do we just let him kill Danny?”

Maurizio’s expression hardened. “I will not set fire to this organization to save someone who isn’t even family. Least of all at a time like this when we need an alliance with men who will never accept us after we’ve started a war over nothing.”

Carmine’s throat tightened. He wanted to growl that Danny wasn’t nothing. Fury burned in his chest, but it didn’t begin to compare to the helplessness. There was nothing he could do for Danny. Nothing that didn’t cross political lines and ignite wars.

Deep down he was ready to start a war for Danny, but that would cost lives. Many lives.

There had to be another way. Something not as destructive as a war, but not as pointless and useless as negotiating with a man who apparently either wouldn’t or couldn’t keep his nephew in line.

Maurizio glared up at Carmine. “I’m going to make the call. If Agosto won’t negotiate, then we’ll do whatever needs to be done within reason.” He wagged his finger at him. “But there will be no war over this Irishman. Do you understand me?”

Despite the hopelessness in his chest and the sudden lump in his throat, Carmine nodded.

Maurizio held his gaze a moment longer, as if waiting for Carmine to protest. When no protest came, Maurizio left the parlor, likely to use the telephone in Carmine’s office. The room mostly cleared out, leaving only Carmine and the battered priest.

Father Carroll pushed himself to his feet, grimacing with every motion. “What does he mean, there’ll be no war? If he can’t persuade them to let Danny go, then…what?”

Carmine stared at the empty doorway for a moment, then turned to Father Carroll. “It means that if he can’t negotiate a solution, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Father Carroll’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

Carmine nodded. “I’ll go with him to the negotiation. After that… Well. That’s up to Agosto.”

“If it’s all the same to you”—the priest lifted his chin—“I’m coming with you.”

Carmine blinked. “Father, with all due respect, we don’t need—”

“I was a soldier before I became a man of God,” came the firm reply. “I can fight, and I can handle a gun.”

“But you’re—”

“I’ll take up any matters of forgiveness with the Lord when it’s over, but I won’t stay behind while Danny is in trouble.”

Carmine’s lips parted. It didn’t sit well with him, the idea of handing a priest a gun and taking him into a fight, especially when he’d been beaten up twice already. As many sins as Carmine had committed in his life, he couldn’t imagine how many Hail Marys it would take to make him right with God again if he got a priest killed in the name of rescuing his lover from a rival gang.

But right then, he could see the soldier in the battered man’s eyes. The fierceness that was far from fearlessness—no man survived on a battlefield unless he knew when to be afraid—but said he was ready and willing to die fighting for the cause. It was the same fierceness boiling inside Carmine right then, and he was hardly going to say no when the priest was as determined as he was to save Danny.

And maybe having him there would soften Agosto’s resolve. Especially if he saw what Salvatore and his men had done to the priest. Carmine had to believe that would convince il Sacchi that this had all gone too far.

So Carmine extended his hand. “All right. Thank you, Father.”

The priest shook his hand. “The parish calls me Father Carroll. But today I’m only James.”

“All right, James. Let’s bring Danny home.”

“What about us?” Giulia appeared beside them with Liam behind her. “What can we do?”

Carmine’s first instinct was to tell her she could stay here and be safe. But if they were all going to meet Agosto il Sacchi, there was a chance things could go bad. That il Sacchi could try something underhanded like he had when he’d released all the rum runners except Danny. Carmine had come prepared that night, ready for Agosto to live up to his reputation.

Why should he expect this to be any different? As much as