Sacchi’s skull, idiot,” Danny snapped. He shifted his gaze from one man to the next. “Look, you boys might not need this job and the protection that comes with it. If you’re not in, then fine. I won’t make you. But whether I like it or not, I need it. The money and the protection.” He swallowed. “And the offer is for all of us. The entire crew.”
“Doing what?” Mathew lounged in his seat, cradling his cup in one hand. “What’s he want us for?”
“Rum running,” Danny said. “Off Long Island.”
The crew watched him, their expressions mixed.
“Rum running don’t sound so bad,” Liam suggested.
“Still dangerous,” Bernard grumbled. “Still working for bloody gangsters.”
“It ain’t like there’s no Irishmen working for them,” Francis said. “The Five Points is gone and the White Hands ain’t far behind.” He shrugged, the gesture heavy with resignation. “A man’s gotta work for whoever’s still got the money to hire him.”
“If I’m gonna work for gangsters,” Bernard said indignantly, “I’m working for Bill Dwyer, not a damned Sicilian.”
“Yeah?” Danny shot him a look. “And is Big Bill knocking down your door to hire you?”
Bernard’s jaw worked.
“That’s what I thought.”
Rolling his eyes, Bernard threw up his hands. “You’re asking us to go to work for them, Danny. The same men who killed your own fucking—”
“I know,” Danny growled. “I don’t like it. Not at all. But I haven’t got a choice, and I think neither have the lot of you.”
The men exchanged glances. Danny held his breath. So much hung on what they said next. His friendships with this crew who were like brothers to him. His protection from the il Sacchi family. If he had to find a whole new crew in time to—
“He’s right,” Mathew said. “I don’t like it either, and God help me if my family ever hears of it, but let’s face it—ain’t a man among us who can live off what we’ve been stealing, especially after we’ve split it eight ways.”
Tommy grunted. “He’s got a point. Both of ‘em do. None of us is about to start robbing banks, and every time any of us has tried for honest work, we’ve been back to thieving again after less than a month.” He shook his head. “Sicilian or not, if he’s offering us work that’ll pay us what we can’t find elsewhere, then I say we take him up on it.”
Bernard eyed the three of them, his expression still skeptical. Then he shifted his gaze to Danny. “So it’s rum running, then? That’s it? No killing no one?”
“Aye,” Danny said. “And hijacking other rum runners.”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
Danny went on, “There’s ships coming in from Canada and the Caribbean with all kinds of whiskey, rum, scotch…” He waved a hand. “Anyhow, they set up three miles off the coast in international waters. Coast Guard can’t touch ‘em. The runners go out, load up on hooch, and bring it back in through Long Island. Battaglia wants us running with them, and he wants us stealing from the other runners.”
“What about the Coast Guard?” Tommy asked. “Three miles out is fine and good, but we gotta get it back to the land somehow.”
“He’ll get us a speedboat.” Danny looked at Francis. “You can drive something that fast, can’t you?”
Francis shrugged. “Sure, but I ain’t ever had to outrun the Coast Guard.”
“High time you learn, then, ain’t it?” Mathew said. “If this gangster is serious, we could make a lot of money out there.”
“Or get shot,” Bernard grumbled. “Or get arrested.”
“Or get rich,” Tommy said.
The other men murmured in agreement, which prompted Bernard to roll his eyes. Danny got it—Bernard didn’t like being reckless. Never had. He’d always been the bluenose of the group, and his caution annoyed them all sometimes, but they had to admit his thinking had saved them from more than one plan that would have failed catastrophically.
“We don’t have to outrun them,” Danny said. “We just have to keep them busy.”
The crew looked at him, so Danny explained everything he’d discussed with Carmine. By the time he’d finished, they were nodding along, and a few were grinning, so he added, “We’re also supposed to disrupt il Sacchi and any non-Pulvirenti supply lines we can.”
“Disrupt…” Tommy blinked. “How?”
“Any way we like.” Danny shrugged. “Long as the cargo makes it into Pulvirenti hands, Battaglia doesn’t give a damn how we go about it. The more we steal, the more we get paid. And every hijacked shipment means a bonus of twenty-five dollars.”
Bernard choked on his