The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,55

working for me after they know damn well I spent time talking with your boys on New Year’s? Especially since there are people who know the names of the boys I talked to?” Carmine grimaced, shaking his head. “That could connect all of them and you to what happened that night. If that happens…”

Danny’s voice sounded hollow as he said, “Then they might realize it was me that killed Ricky.”

“Exactly,” Carmine whispered with a nod. “The less anyone can connect you to me, the less they’ll connect you to Ricky.”

Danny swallowed hard, and he nodded slowly.

“The choice is yours,” Carmine said. “I hate to lose a team of rum runners, especially one as good as yours, but under the circumstances…”

Nodding again, Danny avoided his gaze for a long moment. Carmine’s heart thumped hard against his ribs; it was true he didn’t want to lose a crew that made him so much money, but there was more. More that he didn’t dare say to Danny and couldn’t even say to himself.

I can’t promise my name will protect you, but as much as I’m able, I swear to God, I will.

It was true. Working for the Pulvirentis might not be the deterrent he’d intended it to be, but if someone threatened the crew? If someone touched any of them? Especially Danny? Carmine would personally introduce them to how cold the Hudson was this time of year.

After what seemed like ages, Danny met Carmine’s eyes again. “It wasn’t only the protection that convinced me to take the job. It was the money. And it still is.” With a sigh, he shook his head. “There’s nowhere else me and my crew will get paid this much.”

Trying not to sound too hopeful, Carmine asked, “So you’re still in?”

Danny hesitated for a second, and he swallowed. Then he nodded. “I am. We all are.”

With a smile, Carmine extended his hand. “Good.” Thank God. “And that protection—it still stands whenever it can. Just—”

“Just don’t count on it.” Danny shook his hand. “I understand. And don’t tell no one we work for you.”

“Right.”

“So, what if we’re caught, then? You said if someone arrested us, or…”

Carmine considered it. Then he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a few cards. As he handed them over, he said, “You call this number. Tell them you need a lawyer, and you work for Mr. Carpenter.”

Danny’s eyebrow arched, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Mr. Carpenter, huh? Same as before?”

Carmine chuckled. “It’s how business has to be done in this town sometimes.”

With a nod, Danny tucked the cards away. “All right. Well, um…” He glanced toward the door before looking at Carmine again. “I should be off.”

“Yeah. Sure. And, um. I’m glad you’re still working for me.”

“Aye. Me too.”

They held each other’s gazes for a beat or two longer, same as they often did, and then Danny turned to go. A moment later, he was gone.

As the door shut behind Danny and Sal, Carmine pushed out a relieved breath.

He still had his crew of rum runners.

And as much as he ever would, he still had Danny.

Chapter 11

“Got a match?”

The voice startled Danny out of a daydream about Carmine. Leaning against a fencepost beside the marina, he turned his head, and he found himself face to face with a good-looking man. A very good-looking man. He was around Danny’s height, and he couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty, so a few years younger than Danny. He had a strikingly beautiful face, dark hair, and eyes that were a lovely blue even in this dim light. Danny couldn’t quite tell if the request really was just for a match, or if it was a proposition.

Though he’d have been happy to take up a pretty man’s proposition, especially after the places his mind had been going with Carmine, Danny was here as a lookout and couldn’t leave his post. And anyway, it was always wise to err on the side of caution and assume the request really was just for a match.

“Aye, yeah.” He dug into his pocket and offered his matchbook.

The man took one, struck it, lit his cigar, and handed back the book. “Thanks.”

Danny acknowledged it with a nod and continued smoking his own cigarette. He surreptitiously stole a glance from the corner of his eye, but the man wasn’t looking at him—his attention was fixed on the water.

Not a proposition, then. Just as well. The man was someone Danny would have certainly accompanied someplace private, but