The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,58

do we do, then? If we cross the likes of them?” He set his jaw. “I won’t steal from you, but I ain’t dying for your liquor neither. Not if I can help it.”

“No, I don’t want you or your boys dying for the liquor.” Carmine thought for a moment. Then he looked at Danny again. “Listen, if you find yourselves dealing with them, or with any other crew, or with the cops—you boys aren’t stupid. Do what you think needs to be done. Don’t let anyone think you’re easy to steal from or that none of you’s got spines. But don’t get yourselves killed.”

“Seems like that’d be a lot easier if I could still give them your name.”

“It would be, but under the circumstances—”

“There’s no telling who might be working with il Sacchi.” Danny sounded resigned.

Sighing, Carmine nodded. “Exactly. You gotta assume anyone out there’s at best a competitor, at worst someone who wants you dead. Don’t trust anybody. Assume everybody is dangerous.”

“So business as usual for my crew,” Danny said dryly.

“I suppose it is.” Carmine wondered if that would be enough to convince Danny this wasn’t worth it. Without any protection from Salvatore il Sacchi, and with men like Bugs and Meyer out in the same towns and on the same roads, that kind of caution was prudent.

“Well then. I suppose we’ll just have to watch our backs out there.” With a wry smile—one that made Carmine’s body warm all over—Danny added, “Dangerous or not, can’t really resist when we’re getting this rich.”

Carmine chuckled. “And speaking of getting you rich…” He held up the chits, then started looking them over. As he added up the total, he blew out a quiet whistle. “Do I want to know how you got this much in one night? You didn’t steal another Coast Guard boat, did you?”

Danny laughed, tipping his head back and exposing his long throat, which made Carmine’s heart skip. “No, no. That’s a game we can only play once in a great while, or they’ll get suspicious.”

“I still can’t believe you pulled it off once.” Carmine went around behind the desk. “I don’t know how you do it, Danny. Your whole crew gets into places no one should be able to, and you get back out without anyone noticing.”

Floorboards creaked with Danny’s shifting weight. “When you spend years eating only the bread you can steal, you learn how to steal better bread.”

Carmine met his gaze. Then he nodded. “I suppose you do.” They studied each other for a moment, and Carmine thought Danny might add something, but he didn’t, so Carmine cleared his throat and gestured at the chits. “Right. You came to get paid.”

Danny shifted again. “I did. Thank you.”

The room was completely silent except for the dial turning on the safe, and then the clank of the lock coming open. Neither man spoke as Carmine counted out the money, or as he wrapped it the way he always did in butcher paper.

“All right.” Carmine handed it to him. “Pay for last night, plus money for the merchants on the next run.”

“Thank you.” Danny took it, and they shook hands. “I’ll, uh… I’ll be going, then.” He turned, and suddenly Carmine didn’t want him to leave.

“Wait.”

Danny halted, the bundle tucked under his arm and his expression guarded.

“Before you go.” Carmine reached into a drawer beneath his desk, pulled a bottle and a pair of glasses free, and set them beside his ledger. “You’ve been pulling in liquor by the barrel.” He opened the bottle, and as he started pouring the first glass, added, “Seems only right you should get a taste.”

Danny’s eyes flicked from Carmine to the glass. He was still tense, still more than ready to leave, but he didn’t move.

Carmine put the bottle aside, picked up both glasses, and offered one to Danny.

Danny hesitated. He regarded the offered glass uneasily, but then glanced at the one Carmine had kept for himself. Approaching as cautiously as a stray dog offered a piece of meat, he put the bundle on the edge of the desk. Then he took the offered glass, and it was just as well their fingers didn’t brush. Carmine was sure his own glass would’ve hit the floor, giving away how damp his hands had suddenly become.

Carmine kept his glass upraised. Danny got the hint after a second, and clinked them together, the sound echoing in the tight confines of the office.

“Cheers,” Carmine said.

“Aye. Cheers.” Danny brought his to his lips, pausing to sniff