The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,181

he said, “Carmine Battaglia.”

“I thought as much.” Rowan glanced at Danny. “And, um. Thank you. For looking after us and him.”

“You’re welcome,” Carmine said softly.

He had more chairs brought into the room, and Rowan sat. So did Mama and Giulia. The other members of Danny’s crew were a constant presence, too, with two or three keeping vigil at a time while the others stayed downstairs or helped with the children. It didn’t even bother Carmine when the room started to get crowded. Not when they were all here for Danny.

Maurizio and Sal were conspicuously absent. Carmine was devastated he hadn’t been able to attend either of their funerals, but he’d sent several of his men to pay respects on his behalf and to take money to Sal’s widow while he recovered.

And according to the doctor, he would recover much faster if he would stay in his bed instead of spending so much time beside Danny’s, but Carmine refused to budge except when fatigue drove him to. As soon as he was awake again, he was shuffling across the hallway to resume sitting beside Danny and silently begging him to wake up.

Carmine had again surrendered to the need for sleep, and he awoke to chatter and activity across the hall. He couldn’t tell if they were agitated or excited, but he needed to know, and he carefully pushed himself upright.

The creak of the bed must have carried across the hall, because Giulia appeared as he was carefully pulling on his robe.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

She smiled. “Danny’s fever broke.”

He tensed, ignoring the bolt of pain. “It did? Is he awake?”

“Not yet, but the doctor doesn’t think it will be long.”

“Thank God,” Carmine muttered, still struggling with the robe.

“Here.” Giulia helped him get it into place, and then eased him to his feet. In his mind, he was jogging across the hall to be by Danny’s side again, but in reality, he still needed to lean on his sister and shuffle.

As soon as he stepped into Danny’s room, he was even more grateful for Giulia’s support. Danny was still asleep, but the color in his face was closer to his usual fair skin than the feverish flush or the sickly pallor he’d alternated between since Carmine had first awakened.

Rowan got up from one of the chairs and offered it to Carmine. He was holding his infant son and seemed content to stand and gently rock the sleeping child, so Carmine didn’t let any guilt linger as he took the seat.

The bedside vigil continued, and Danny continued to improve. His color was better. More and more, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully instead of possibly fading away before their eyes.

And finally—God, finally—sometime after midnight that night, his eyes fluttered open. At first, he just gazed up at the ceiling, as if he were orienting himself. Then, slowly, he began to look around.

James leaned toward him. “Danny?”

Danny looked at him, and the relief in his expression gave Carmine a wave of his own relief. Reaching for the priest’s hand, Danny whispered, “You’re all right.”

“Of course I am.” James squeezed his hand. “It’s you we’ve all been worried about.”

“Me?” Danny shifted a bit, grimacing. “But I wasn’t—” He tensed suddenly. “I wasn’t shot. Carmine. Where’s—”

“I’m right here.”

Danny turned to him, and for a heartbeat, nothing but disbelief registered on his face. Then came a smile. A sweet smile that, more than anything, made Carmine believe that Danny was truly alive. “I thought you was dead.”

Carmine squeezed Danny’s arm. “Wasn’t me lying here with a fever for days.”

“A fever? Days?” Danny blinked. “I… Really?”

Carmine nodded.

“We thought for sure a few times you was dead.” Mathew leaned over the footboard. “Should’ve known you’re too stubborn for that.”

Danny laughed almost soundlessly.

“There’s no one stubborn as him,” Rowan agreed. “Should’ve known.”

Danny sobered, and he stared up at his brother. “You’re still here.”

“I thought you was dying, Danny.” Rowan leaned past Carmine to squeeze Danny’s arm. “They couldn’t have chased me out of here.” He glanced at Carmine. “I mean… I…”

“I wouldn’t have chased you out,” Carmine said. “Least of all when your brother is sick in my house.”

Rowan smiled, and Carmine returned it.

“So it’s true!” The doctor’s voice turned everyone’s heads. “The patient is awake.” He glared at Carmine. “And you should be—”

“I was sleeping,” Carmine groused.

The doctor huffed with annoyance. “Well. Let me have a look at Daniel.”

Everyone moved out of his way. Carmine sat back and watched, and he sent up a prayer of thanks that Danny