The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,31

it for a moment. He could drag this out. Make Danny grovel for the job he’d rejected. The temptation was strong, but he had a feeling Danny’s pride would wilt this offered olive branch before too long. And the fact was, regardless of any bad blood, Carmine stood to make enough money off this arrogant Irish bastard that it was worthwhile to put up with him.

So, he nodded. “Yes, the offer is still on the table.”

Obvious relief loosened Danny’s jaw, but a second later, renewed trepidation pinched his brow. “So what’s the job, then?”

“Well, first I want to know you’re up for it.”

Danny glared at him. “I thought you wanted to hire us.”

“I do. But I’m not sending you and your boys out to do jobs until I’m sure you’re the right men to do them.” Without waiting for a response, he opened a drawer under his desk and withdrew a rolled-up map. He stood, smoothed the map on top of the desk, and then reached into another drawer and pulled out a handful of bullets.

Danny stiffened, breath hitching almost soundlessly, and his eyes widened. “Does this involve killing? Because I ain’t a killer.”

Carmine met Danny’s eyes. The glare had faded, and though his expression was hard and non-negotiable, there was something soft there too. Something gentle and young that wouldn’t abide by violence. Carmine immediately liked that about him, and he believed him too. Though their paths had crossed because Danny had killed someone, Carmine didn’t doubt the sincerity in those mesmerizing blue eyes. Danny had killed a man, but he wasn’t a killer, and Carmine couldn’t imagine ever asking him to be one.

And Danny was still waiting for an answer, probably wondering why Carmine was staring stupidly at him, so Carmine quickly said, “No, it doesn’t involve killing. In fact, I would prefer no one got killed. It’s not good for business.”

Danny eyed him, still obviously uneasy.

Carmine gestured at the map. “This is Long Island.” He traced his finger out three miles off the coast, then put down four of the bullets in a north-to-south line. “And these are cargo ships running from Canada, Europe, and the West Indies. And this…” He placed a fifth bullet on the coast, right around the tip of Long Island. “…is the town of Greenport.” Straightening up, he looked at Danny, whose nervous gaze flicked back and forth from him to the map.

“So we’re meant to bring in liquor from Rum Row,” Danny murmured.

Carmine nodded. “Exactly. What I need is for men to get cargo from here”—he gestured at the bullets representing the ships—“to here.” He tapped the one representing Greenport. “Or to any of the towns—it doesn’t matter as long as the liquor can be offloaded and transported to one of my warehouses.”

Danny shifted his weight, but he didn’t speak.

“The problem is the Coast Guard.” Carmine waved at the broad expanse of water between the one bullet and the four. “From three miles offshore and beyond, it’s international waters, and they’ve got no jurisdiction.”

Nodding slowly, Danny said, “But from three miles in, they’re patrolling for rum runners.”

“Exactly. So tell me—if you and your crew took on a load of liquor from one of the ships…” He folded his arms and tilted his head, studying Danny. “How would you make it back to shore through Coast Guard-infested waters?”

Danny stared back at him. “You… You just want me to…”

Carmine held his gaze, but said nothing.

Danny’s eyes flicked to the map. He took a cautious step closer and leaned over the map, palms flat on the desk. For a long, long time, he was still and silent, studying the map and the bullets, his brow furrowed.

All the while, Carmine tried not to notice the sharp angle of his jaw, or the way his lips quirked and pursed as he scrutinized the map. Or the way fierce determination and deep concentration made his blue eyes spark. Danny was good-looking, there was no doubt about that, especially when his expression wasn’t full of hate and fury, but he’d never let Carmine touch him. Such a shame.

Danny spoke, startling Carmine: “What kind of boat have I got?”

“Uh, what kind…” Carmine glanced at the map and shrugged, clearing his throat. “You tell me.”

Danny looked up at him, one red brow lifting smartly. “Well, I assume you haven’t got a fleet of ocean liners for me to use.”

With a dry laugh, Carmine shook his head. “No. But we do have speedboats.”

“Hmm.” Danny studied the map again, his sharp gaze