The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,176
leg, and he held the gun in trembling hands, but there wasn’t so much as a glint of fear in his eyes. The priest was long gone, and James was all soldier now, even with that bloody white collar at his throat.
“Don’t make me shoot you, Father,” the man with the gun pleaded.
“You shoot me,” James warned, “then we’re both meeting God tonight.” He nodded sharply toward Carmine. “Untie him.”
“What? I can’t—”
“Untie him,” James snarled, “or so help me, I will shoot you both.”
It was almost comical how utterly terrified the two men clearly were of James in that moment. They had to be beyond confused, having been tricked and now threatened by a priest.
“Untie him,” James repeated. “Now.”
One of the men did as he was told. As Carmine rose, James gestured with the gun at the men. “Tie them.”
Carmine didn’t waste any time worrying about who was giving him orders—he took the men’s remaining weapons, then tied each of them to the chairs he and James had vacated. For good measure, he gagged them with some strips of linen he pulled from the discarded packing material.
With the men duly restrained and quieted, he turned to James. “Now what do you say we get out of here?”
James nodded sharply. “Was thinking the same.” He looked in the direction Salvatore had gone, and he frowned. “Whatever’s going on out there, I think we’d be wise not to walk into the middle of it.”
There was some noise coming from that direction. Engines. Voices. Too far away and too quiet for him to make out exactly what was happening, but James was right—they were better off finding a different way out.
They moved deeper into the warehouse. There were several doors along the sides and at the end, but each time they tried one…locked.
“Damn it,” Carmine growled, giving one of them a futile shove.
Limping beside him, the priest muttered something, and Carmine was pretty sure it was profane this time. He was about to suggest they move toward the front where there were some windows they could smash, but right then, James stiffened. Holding stock still, moving only his eyes, he took in a deep breath through his nose.
“What is it?” Carmine asked.
James turned to him, fear written all over his bloody face. “D’you smell that?”
Carmine sniffed, and now it was his turn to go rigid with fear. Their eyes locked. Both men crossed themselves.
Because, yeah, Carmine smelled it.
Smoke.
Chapter 43
“Danny, no!” Giulia whispered after him, but he was already off and running.
He didn’t go for the front of the building where the two factions of gangsters were engaged in a loud, furious argument. Instead, he went toward the side, away from all the attention, and found a window he could reach from the ground.
“Danny, what are—”
“Help me break this window!” Danny picked up a cinderblock and heaved it through the glass. It splintered, but several big shards remained.
Giulia gave a small grunt of exertion, and another cinderblock went through the window, clearing away more of the glass. With a couple of rocks, they quickly snapped off the largest and sharpest shards.
Mathew and Peter appeared beside them, but Danny gestured at the far end of the warehouse. “Get the doors open. As many as you can. It’ll spread the fire faster, but we’ll need a way out.”
The lads hesitated for a heartbeat, but then nodded and disappeared into the night while Danny hoisted himself in through the window. His gloves kept him from cutting his hands, but an unseen edge cut his leg. It was minor, though, so he ignored it.
As soon as he was inside, he quickly looked around. The fire was spreading, illuminating this end of the building while smoke thickened up near the rafters. It wouldn’t take long to sweep through, especially with all these crates and piles of packing material, so they’d have to move fast.
He turned to Giulia. “All right. Come on. And mind the glass.”
She joined him inside, squinting against the heat and smoke. “Let’s head for—”
“Hey! Hey!” a voice shouted from the doorway across from them, where all the activity was happening. “Who the hell are you?”
Danny looked.
And in that moment, so did Salvatore.
The fire must have illuminated Danny, because the instant their eyes locked, recognition registered on Salvatore’s face. “That’s him!” He drew his gun and sprinted into the burning warehouse. There were shouts and gunshots behind him, but he cleared the door, and Danny and Giulia didn’t wait around for him to catch up.