The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,54
found out who killed Ricky…
Carmine cringed. Nudging some porcelain onto the dustpan with the broom, it occurred to him that if Salvatore was suspicious after Carmine spoke to the Irishmen on New Year’s, then any Irishman working for the Pulvirentis could be suspect.
Which meant…
It wasn’t just a matter of Carmine being unable to protect him.
What if working for him actually put Danny in more danger?
Carmine was nervous when Danny came to get paid a few days later. This kid and his crew were making the Pulvirentis a lot of money, and Carmine didn’t relish the idea of replacing them.
He couldn’t lie to him, though. He’d promised Danny from the beginning that this would be a means of protection from the il Sacchis, and he wouldn’t pretend to offer that protection if he couldn’t keep that promise. Uneasy or not, and even if it might cost him the best crew of rum runners he’d ever hired, he had to be honest with Danny.
When Danny stepped into the office, Carmine’s heart quickened, and not entirely because he was worried about the conversation they needed to have. The hood Danny had worn coming down from the butcher shop had tousled his red hair like it sometimes did, and Carmine could never quite concentrate when he saw him like that.
He needed to, though, just like he needed to ignore the subtle way Danny looked him up and down as he handed over the chits. Carmine was imagining whatever he thought he saw in Danny’s blue eyes or what he read into those looks. He had to be. Imagined or not, though, the distraction was strong, and it took a moment longer than he would have liked to count out and wrap Danny’s money.
He managed, though, and after they’d settled up for last night’s score, Carmine leaned against his desk and looked at Danny. Pretending his balance didn’t waver when he met those beautiful eyes, he said, “There’s an issue we need to discuss.”
“An issue?” Danny was instantly on guard. “What issue?”
“The issue of Salvatore il Sacchi. Ricky il Sacchi’s brother.”
Danny’s entire body tensed. “What about him?”
Carmine took a deep breath and told Danny what happened at Giulia’s speakeasy the other night. When he’d finished, he said, “The fact of the matter is, Salvatore il Sacchi is a loose cannon. I can’t even let Giulia keep running her bar now because of this son of a bitch.” Carmine scowled. “Especially since I’m worried it won’t stop with just making noise and threats. Fact is, Salvatore is a dangerous man, and he’s out for blood over his brother’s death.”
Danny shuddered, dropping his gaze to stare at the floor between them.
Carmine swallowed. “I can’t protect you from him, Danny.”
“What?” Danny’s eyes were wide when they met his again. “But you said if I came to work for you, then you’d—”
“I know what I said.” Carmine nodded, regret pooling in his gut. “And it wasn’t a lie. I just don’t think that someone like Salvatore is sane enough to respect that laying a hand on a man working for me means bringing my organization down on him.”
“So, that’s it, then?” Anger and betrayal slid into Danny’s voice and hardened all his features, reminding Carmine all too well of the way he’d looked at him the first time they’d met. “You’re just going to let him do what he sees fit to avenge his brother?”
“Not at all. And if he does lay a hand on you or any of your boys, he’s going to have to answer to the Pulvirentis.” Sighing, Carmine let his shoulders sink a little. “What I can’t be sure of is that it will keep him from laying a hand on you. I can’t guarantee you protection. Not the way I thought I could.” He swallowed. “If that means you and your crew aren’t willing to work for me anymore, then so be it.”
Danny studied him, expression full of wariness. “You’d just let us go, then. Since when do gangsters let men go without strings attached?”
“Since that gangster made a promise when he hired those men, and now he can’t keep that promise.” Carmine shook his head. “I’m not going to strong-arm you and your boys into working for me when I can’t hold up my end of the deal.”
Danny chewed his lip, but said nothing.
“And, uh…” Carmine sighed. “If you do stay on, the fewer people know you work for me, the better.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because if anyone connects a crew of Irish thieves