The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,82

the room was breathing.

“Fifty…” Francis blinked. “Are you sure he said that? You’re sure you heard him right?”

“I am.” Danny nodded. “I didn’t think I had, but he said it again, and yeah, he meant it—fifty each.”

Tommy whistled. “And we don’t even have to go out to Long Island and steal a boat.”

“No. He don’t even give a damn what we take, only that we get in, take something, and get out.”

Peter huffed dryly. “For that much money, count me in.”

“Aye,” most of the crew said.

“I say we do this with…” Francis gestured at all of them. “Leave Giulia out of this one.”

Paddy almost spat out his cigarette. “What? With her brains and—”

“Because we’re robbing a bootlegger at his own warehouse, you sap.” Francis smacked Paddy on the arm. “It’s bad enough any one of us could get shot.”

The lads eyed him, but then Peter laughed and waved his teacup at Francis, almost spilling it on him. “You’re already stuck on her, ain’t you?”

Francis rolled his eyes, but the bright blush gave him away. “I’m not. I’m—”

“You are.” Paddy slapped Francis’s shoulder. “Dizzy with a dame, this one!”

The lads roared with laughter, and Francis blushed brighter than Danny had ever seen him. Danny chuckled too, but he didn’t like the knot in the pit of his stomach. As he and Francis exchanged looks across the table, Francis sobered a little, as if he could read Danny’s expression.

Anything happens to her, you sap, and it’s you answering to Carmine Battaglia.

As the crew collected themselves, Tommy said, “If you’re worried about her getting shot, why’s she still coming out on the sea with us?”

Francis eyed him pointedly. “You think any one of us could talk her out of it?”

“Lord knows you’d never try,” Paddy muttered.

“I have!” Francis protested, but then he deflated and brought his cigarette to his lips. “There ain’t a man among us she couldn’t out-stubborn.”

“No wonder he’s in love with her,” Liam mused.

That prompted more laughter from the crew and more blushing from Francis. He rolled his eyes and blew out some smoke, then grumbled, “Just don’t say a word to her about this job. At least then she won’t be getting shot.”

“Not until the next time we’re nearly caught stealing liquor,” Paddy said.

“Then how’s about we don’t get caught again?” Francis grumbled.

“All right, all right,” Danny said. “So Giulia’s not coming to the warehouse with us. But are we doing the job or not?”

Bernard balanced his teacup on his knee. “But why us at all? There’s got to be a reason Battaglia wants us to do it. What’s his game?”

“I’m not sure,” Danny said. “But I told him we’d decide as a crew, and we’d have a look at the warehouse first to be sure this isn’t suicide. Then we’ll give him a yes or a no.”

The lads exchanged glances, and one by one, they shrugged.

“All right,” Tommy said. “For fifty dollars, I can’t think of much that’d make me say no.”

Paddy grunted in agreement. The others nodded and raised their cups, clinking them together above the table. Bernard looked skeptical, of course, but even he finally joined in. So did Danny.

Danny was still nervous. There was no telling what awaited them in that warehouse, or what Carmine’s reasons were for sending them in. This could be an easy score of a whole lot of money, or it could be bullets in all their heads.

But they’d scout the warehouse. See what the building and security were like.

And maybe, if all went well, they’d each have a cool fifty dollars in their pockets for little to no work.

In between their runs on the Atlantic, the crew went out to Brooklyn to carefully and methodically learn everything they could about the warehouse. With eight of them, it was easy to have someone watching the building around the clock without rousing suspicion—they just switched off every couple of hours or so. Sometimes more often than that. Danny and Bernard would sit around smoking cigarettes and carrying on animated arguments about whatever they could think of to argue about. Paddy and Liam would earnestly try to “repair” a stolen car that “wouldn’t run.” Francis spent at least an hour wandering around calling and whistling for a dog that didn’t exist.

Sometimes the men guarding the warehouse or patrolling the grounds would look at them, or they’d strike up conversations in an effort to figure out why the lads were loitering where they were. Peter and Tommy even went right up and pleaded with