The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,30
bullets and blood. But Agosto il Sacchi and Maurizio Pulvirenti were businessmen. They were the new breed of gangster born from Rothstein’s vision of a more civilized method of owning the streets. Bullets and blood were still the law of the land, but negotiations and handshakes were more productive and resulted in less unpleasantness.
This evening’s agreement didn’t extend beyond the two gangs, though. The man who’d swung the statue and dealt the killing blow to Ricky il Sacchi? He was still vulnerable.
Sighing into the cold air, Carmine hoped Daniel reconsidered his offer. If he and his men were willing to work for Carmine, then Carmine could extend some protection to them. They would hardly be untouchable, not like made men, but it would be understood that action taken against them would be a slight on the Pulvirenti family. Not a foolproof deterrent, but effective enough.
Swallow your pride, Daniel.
I can make you rich, but I can also keep you alive.
“Mr. Battaglia.” Sal leaned into Carmine’s office. “Someone’s asking for you upstairs. Says he won’t leave until he talks to you.”
Carmine wrapped a band around the thick stack of bills he’d just finished counting. “This someone got a name?”
Sal spoke into the hallway’s telephone receiver. Then, “Yeah. Daniel. Sounds like that Irish kid from before.” Sal scrunched up his face. “You want me to send him—”
“Bring him down.” Carmine managed to keep the tiny thrill out of his voice. “I need to see him.” He paused. “But let him cool his heels a bit first.”
Sal chuckled and nodded, then disappeared into the tunnel. Carmine was eager to see if the kid had changed his mind, but making him wait reinforced that they were doing this on Carmine’s time, not his.
Alone in the office, Carmine made a note in his ledger of the cash he’d just counted, then tucked everything into the safe.
It was nearly twenty minutes before footsteps approached again. Two sets this time. The door opened, and Sal guided the slim kid into the office with the usual bag over his head. Sal pulled off the bag, and Daniel grimaced as if he were trying not to retch.
Carmine remained in his desk chair. “Thank you, Sal.”
Sal nodded sharply and left, closing the heavy door behind him.
With that, Daniel and Carmine were alone. The Irishman swallowed a few times, and when his nauseated grimace was gone, he met Carmine’s gaze with what seemed like a mix of contrition and frustration. Carmine studied him. He’d wondered if his memory had embellished Daniel like it sometimes did when he thought a man was attractive. More than once, he’d met a man a second time, only to be disappointed that he wasn’t as intriguing as he’d remembered him.
Daniel, though? Daniel measured up to what Carmine had been thinking of since that last time. In fact he was even more handsome now that some of the hostility had softened in his blue eyes and full lips. The way the overhead lights played on his tousled, coppery hair, the way—
Carmine was staring.
He cleared his throat and made sure he sounded fully collected. “I didn’t think I’d see you again, Daniel.”
“Danny.” The kid dropped his gaze. “My name is Danny.” Carmine didn’t acknowledge it, and after an awkwardly silent moment, Danny said, “I’ve thought more about your offer of work.”
“Have you?”
“Aye.” Danny shifted. “And I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.” With a resigned sigh, he met Carmine’s gaze with fierce eyes. “But I ain’t got much choice. I’ve got family who’s barely surviving, and my crew…” He shook his head. “None of us is making it.”
“I see.”
They locked eyes, each waiting for the other to speak.
Carmine finally said, “You’re assuming the offer is still on the table.”
Danny’s shoulders fell minutely. “Is it?”
“I’m not sure.” Carmine studied him. “You made it rather clear you’re not fond of my kind. Who’s to say you and your boys won’t steal my merchandise or sabotage my supply lines?”
Gaunt cheeks coloring, Danny stiffened. “I’m not—all right, I am a thief, but I’m not going to work for a man like you and be foolish enough to think I can rob him.”
“A man like me?”
“You’re a gangster, and I’m no fool.” It was less of an accusation than the first time Danny had called Carmine what he was. More of a resigned admission than anything. Looking right at Carmine, Danny set his jaw. “Do you want my crew to come work for you? Or am I wasting my time?”