The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,32

tracing invisible paths back and forth from “ships” to shore. Another long silence passed before he spoke again. “I’d man the speedboat with three men. Send them right past the Coast Guard.”

Carmine rolled his eyes. And he’d thought Danny would be smart about this.

But Danny went on, “While the speedboat’s drawing their attention, the rest of my crew and I will be on…” He hesitated. “Well, it don’t matter. A yacht. A fishing boat. Whatever we can steal that’s seaworthy and don’t look like it’s meant for rum running.” Lifting his gaze to meet Carmine’s, Danny narrowed his eyes and let a wicked and disarming grin come to life. “While the Coast Guard’s busy with the empty speedboat, the rest of my men and I will sail right by with a hold full of liquor, and they’ll never look at us twice.”

Carmine blinked. “And if the men in the speedboat are caught?”

“So what if they are?” Danny shrugged. “The Coasties give ‘em an earful, tell ‘em to slow down, and…” He gestured like he was waving someone away.

Carmine nodded slowly, staring at the map. For a moment, he was speechless. He’d expected Danny to be smart—thieves without wits didn’t last long—but he was even sharper than Carmine had expected. He was innovative under pressure, seemed to have no qualms about ignoring the law, but steadfastly refused to kill unless there was no other choice. He wasn’t a thug without morals. He had brains and a heart, and on top of that, a smile that was going to be Carmine’s undoing.

Shaking himself, Carmine cleared his throat. “Well done. The Coast Guard is getting smarter and faster. So I need my runners to be smart enough and fast enough to stay ahead of them.” He grinned. “Which means you and your crew are perfect for this job.”

“Yeah?” Danny eyed him. “How much is the pay?”

“Depends on the score.”

Danny’s lips thinned.

Carmine took a breath. “My warehouses will pay depending on how much you bring back of what kind of liquor.” He reached under the desk and pulled out a list, which detailed how much each type and quantity of liquor was worth. As he handed the list over to Danny, he added, “And a bonus of twenty-five dollars for every successfully hijacked shipment from a rival.”

“Twenty-five…” Danny stared at him as he took the list. “Twenty-five dollars? Plus the pay for cases and barrels?”

Carmine nodded. “It’s risky, and it means taking merchandise from my competitors. Seems worth a bonus to me.”

Danny skimmed over the list. Then his eyes drifted toward the map, but they seemed to lose focus. No doubt he was trying to comprehend that much money for a night’s work. Carmine had certainly been taken aback by how much he’d been paid when he’d started working for Maurizio.

“So.” Carmine extended his hand over the map. “Are we in business?”

Danny regarded the offer warily. For a moment, Carmine thought he might reject it and walk. But then, with a sigh and a sharp nod, Danny shook his hand. “Aye. We’re in business.”

Chapter 7

At Daisy’s that evening, Danny went up to the bar and leaned in close so only Gladys could hear him over the singer crooning into the microphone onstage. “My crew needs a meeting in the back. Around half past nine.”

Gladys nodded, bringing her cigarette holder to her painted lips. “I’ll keep it empty for ya.”

He gave her a sharp nod of thanks, then took a seat at the bar. He was early yet, since he’d wanted to be sure the back was free, so while he waited for the crew to show, he watched some of the singers in Daisy’s crowded lounge.

The audience was a mix of men and women. Sometimes men hoping to catch the eye of one of the performers to meet up later. Sometimes people who just loved to come in and gawk at the “men with astonishing voices and flashy dresses,” as one of the newspapers had said in a review not long ago. Danny hadn’t cared for that review, since it had read to him like someone encouraging people to go to a carnival freak show. Gladys had just shrugged and reminded him that landlords and grocers didn’t care if money came from fans or gawkers. He supposed he couldn’t argue.

From the bar, he watched as June took the stage, and he had to smile. A couple of the singers had adopted feminine voices and sang like the sirens of Broadway, while others like June