The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,182

had pulled through. He knew from watching others recover from bullet wounds and similar injuries that infections could improve, then worsen all over again, so Danny wasn’t out of the woods, but he was better for now.

And Carmine could breathe again.

Chapter 45

It was well into the next night before Danny had a moment alone with Carmine. He was sitting up in bed now, feeling stronger after eating a little bit, so his family and the lads had all gone to get some sleep themselves. Even James had finally given in, which was a relief—he was still bruised all over, his knee so sore he needed a walking stick to get around, and he needed the rest.

So, for now, if only for a short while, it was just Danny and Carmine.

“You scared me to death.” Carmine smoothed Danny’s hair. “Don’t know how many times I thought someone was going to tell me you were gone.”

“It’s going to take more than a cut leg to kill me.” He took Carmine’s hand and brought it to his lips. “It was you that had the bullet hole. I was sure you were…” He trailed off, biting his lip as that horrific night flashed through his mind.

“I made it,” Carmine whispered, squeezing Danny’s hand. “And didn’t you tell me that if you were in a burning truck, to let it burn instead of getting myself killed to save you?”

“I did.” Danny nodded once. “But you stubbornly refused to make that promise, and anyhow, that wasn’t a burning truck, it was a burning building, and I didn’t get myself killed.”

“But you almost did.”

“Aye.” Danny reached up to touch Carmine’s face. “And we both made it out.”

“But if we hadn’t—”

“We did, Carmine. We made it. We’re both all right.”

Carmine tried to scowl, but he failed and just chuckled as he shook his head. “I thought my sister was stubborn.”

“Oh, she is,” Danny said with a laugh. “I told her to wait here because you’d have our heads, and she said you could have it later, but she was coming.”

Carmine laughed, wincing a little.

“You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Carmine nodded. “Just…healing.”

Danny sobered. They were silent for a moment, just gazing at each other, before he whispered, “So, what happens now?”

“I don’t know. Maurizio’s dead. Agosto and Salvatore il Sacchi are dead.” Exhaling, Carmine dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I just don’t—”

“I don’t mean the gangs.”

Carmine looked at him through his lashes. Danny watched him, praying Carmine could read the questions in his eyes and he didn’t have to say them out loud.

When Carmine didn’t speak, Danny found the words: “Maybe I’m a fool who needed to come within a hair of losing you, but now that I have…” He rubbed his thumb along Carmine’s. “Now I’m afraid to.”

Carmine swallowed. There’d been a time when those dark eyes had intimidated and even infuriated Danny, but they were so soft now. So knowing. So understanding. “If I wasn’t afraid to lose you before,” Carmine whispered, “sitting by your bed and trying to pray you back to life got me there.”

Danny’s lips parted.

Carmine leaned closer. “That’s all I know, Danny. That the only thing in the world that scares me now is losing you.”

It was Danny who couldn’t find the words this time, so he reached for Carmine, and with some effort, leaned forward enough to brush their lips together. That wasn’t enough, so he slid his hand into Carmine’s hair and pressed in more, and the warmth of Carmine’s fingers across his cheek was nearly as gratifying and reassuring as the kiss itself.

Carmine broke away first, but he kept his hand on Danny’s face. “I don’t know what happens next. But I want you there. I know that much.”

Danny smiled. “Me too.”

Then he kissed Carmine again.

It wasn’t a plan. It wasn’t anything, really. Nothing more than a kiss. But it was something good after days of hell, and right now, Danny and Carmine were alive. They didn’t want to let each other go.

For tonight, that was enough.

After a few days, Danny was finally up and moving. He and James both had to hobble around, and they still stayed upstairs most of the time rather than risk a fall. Carmine was still moving slowly too, so when there was business he needed to attend to, his associates came to the house rather than Carmine going to his office. The police came to ask questions about the night the warehouse burned, and according to Carmine, they left with fewer questions and