Chapter 5 - The Escalade in the Alley|
"Dmitri! The back door!" the second guard yelled, bleeding from a graze on his forearm.
"Move!" Dimitri commanded.
He didn't ask if I could walk. He pulled me up by my wrist in one fluid movement, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and dragging me with him as we sprinted through the destroyed kitchen.
Jerry was cowering under the prep table, holding a stainless steel bowl over his head.
"Jerry! Stay down!" I yelled.
Dimitri kicked open the heavy metal rear exit, and the freezing April rain hit us like a wall.
A black, armored Cadillac Escalade sat idling in the alleyway, its exhaust pluming into the cold night air. The rear door flew open from the inside.
"Get in!" Dimitri ordered, shoving me into the leather interior before sliding in right behind me.
The two guards leaped into the front seats, the driver slamming the heavy vehicle into reverse before his door was even fully closed.
Screech!
The tires tore up the wet asphalt as a volley of automatic fire struck the armored rear window, leaving spiderweb cracks across the heavy glass but failing to penetrate.
I collapsed onto the floorboards of the SUV, gasping for air, my waiter's apron soaked in coffee, rain, and shattered glass.
The Escalade burst out of the alleyway onto Fulton Street, its heavy V8 engine roaring as it tore through the red lights, leaving the burning diner and the sounds of sirens behind us in the dark.
I sat up slowly, clutching my knees, staring at my trembling hands.
Dimitri was sitting on the leather bench above me, unbuttoning his blood-stained cuffs, his gun resting on his thigh.
He stared down at me for three long seconds.
"Who taught you to recognize a sniper dot, Elena?" he asked softly.
I looked up at him, my lower lip trembling. "My father was an army recruiter. He told me if I ever saw red light on stone, I should run."
Dimitri leaned back against the headrest, a slow, dark expression settling across his lethal features.
"You didn't run," he noted. "You grabbed me."
"I... I didn't think," I choked out, tears finally breaking past my eyes. "I just didn't want to watch a man die."
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Dmitri reached down, his large, calloused fingers closing gently around my wrist, pulling me up onto the leather seat beside him.
"Well, Elena," he whispered, his thumb wiping a drop of rain from my cheek. "You succeeded. But now the Moretti family knows a diner waitress saved the King of Brooklyn. And they will come for you to finish the job."
