Chapter 3 - FIRE AND EMBERS
Glass shattered across the dining room as three men in tactical masks stepped through the ruined doorway, raising submachine guns toward the private dining area.
"Romano!" a voice roared through the smoke.
"Down!" Salvo bellowed, moving with a terrifying, predatory speed.
Before I could even scream, Salvo grabbed the front of my apron, pulled me over the top of the table, and tackled me to the floor behind the solid oak bar just as a hail of gunfire erupted through the restaurant.
Bottles of top-shelf liquor exploded overhead, raining amber liquid and crystal shards down upon us. The screams of patrons echoed through the hall, followed by the heavy, rhythmic return fire from Salvo's bodyguards.
Salvo held me pinned beneath his body, his large frame acting as an impenetrable shield against the flying debris. The scent of his cologne was mixed now with the acrid stench of gunpowder and cordite.
"Stay down! Don't move!" he commanded against my ear, his breath hot against my cheek.
He pulled a sleek, dark semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster with smooth, practiced ease. Without even looking over the counter, he leaned out and fired three precise shots.
A heavy thud sounded from the doorway, followed by a groan.
"Salvo! They brought two cars!" the consigliere shouted from behind a tipped mahogany table, firing his own weapon through the thick curtain of smoke.
"Clear the back exit!" Salvo ordered, his eyes sweeping over me to check for injuries. "Clara, are you hit?"
"I... I don't think so," I stammered, my body shaking violently from the adrenaline surge. My hands were covered in spilled gin and shattered glass, but there was no blood.
Salvo grabbed my chin in his hand, forcing me to look directly into his fierce amber eyes. "Listen to me very carefully. If those men see your face, you're dead. They know who you are now."
"What? Why would they know who I am?!"
"Because Maranzano’s men have been monitoring this restaurant for three days," Salvo hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet behind the cover of the bar. "They saw you speak to me. They know you're Maria's daughter."
A grenade-like flashbang went off in the foyer, blinding the room in a flash of white light and a deafening roar.
Salvo didn't hesitate. He wrapped one arm around my waist, lifting me almost off my feet, and bolted down the narrow service hallway toward the back kitchen doors.
Anthony Moretti was cowering behind a industrial dishwasher, sobbing hysterically into his apron.
"Key to the delivery van, Anthony!" Salvo demanded, leveling his gun at the manager's head.
Anthony fumbled in his pocket with trembling fingers, tossing a set of keys toward us.
Salvo caught them out of mid-air, kicked open the heavy metal back door, and dragged me out into the cold, rainy alleyway of Manhattan.
A sleek, armored black SUV was already idling in the alley, its doors swinging open as two of Salvo's surviving bodyguards provided covering fire toward the street entrance.
"Get in!" Salvo ordered, shoving me into the back leather seat before diving in right behind me.
The driver slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the tires screaming against the wet asphalt as the heavy vehicle rocketed out of the alleyway, leaving behind the burning wreck of The Cathedral.
I slumped against the soft leather seats, gasping for air, staring out the tinted windows as the neon lights of New York City blurred past in a smear of rain and red brake lights.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice cracking with fear and exhaustion.
May you like
Salvo unclipped the magazine from his gun, checked the brass rounds inside, and slapped it back into place with a sharp, chilling click.
"To my estate in Long Island," Salvo said, looking at me with a gaze that held no mercy. "You're in the war now, Clara. And you're not leaving my side until we find your mother's ledger."
