Chapter 7 - The Bleeding Hand
The drive to Rosie’s Diner was a blur of neon lights and violently swerving tires. Alessandro drove with a terrifying, absolute silence. His jaw was locked, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The mafia boss I had confronted hours earlier for throwing a coffee cup was gone; the man sitting next to me was a father who had just lost his child to his most trusted friend.
“He won’t hurt Leo right away,” I said, desperately trying to fill the suffocating silence. “Victor needs the ledger first. And taking apart the diner will take time.”
“Victor doesn't need time, Nora,” Alessandro said flatly, not taking his eyes off the slick, rain-soaked road. “Victor has C-4 explosives. He’ll blow the wall behind the jukebox and pick the ledger out of the rubble.”
My stomach bottomed out. “He’ll destroy the building. Rosa is in there!”
Alessandro didn't answer. He slammed the brakes as we skidded to a halt two blocks away from the diner, hiding the SUV in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse.
“We go on foot from here,” Alessandro ordered, checking the magazine of his pistol. He looked at me, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Stay in the car, Nora. This isn't your war.”
“My boss is in there,” I said fiercely, gripping the heavy gun he had given me earlier. “And so is the boy who held my hand at the hospital. I’m not staying in the car.”
Alessandro studied my face for a long second. The rain beat against the windshield, casting shadows over his sharp features. He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently brushing a stray, wet curl of hair from my cheek. It was a wildly intimate gesture in the middle of a nightmare.
“If we survive this,” Alessandro murmured, his voice incredibly low, “I’m taking you somewhere they serve decent coffee.”
“Deal,” I whispered.
We slipped out of the car and moved through the dark alleyways. The rain masked the sound of our footsteps. When we reached the back entrance of the diner, my heart sank.
Two of Dante’s men, armed with assault rifles, were guarding the steel kitchen door.
Alessandro gestured for me to stay behind the dumpsters. He pulled a heavy hunting knife from his belt and melted into the shadows. I watched, breath held, as he crept behind the first guard.
With lethal, silent precision, Alessandro clamped a hand over the man’s mouth and drove the hilt of the knife into the base of his skull. The man collapsed instantly. The second guard turned, raising his rifle, but Alessandro threw the knife. It embedded itself deep into the man’s shoulder. He cried out, dropping his weapon, and Alessandro finished him with a brutal punch to the jaw.
“Clear,” Alessandro whispered, retrieving his knife.
I hurried to his side. I pulled my master key from my pocket—the one Rosa had given me two years ago—and unlocked the heavy steel door.
We slipped into the dark, familiar kitchen. It smelled faintly of fried onions and bleach.
Through the service window, we could see the main dining area.
The diner was wrecked. Tables were overturned, the red vinyl booths slashed open. In the center of the room, tied to a wooden chair, was Rosa. Her face was bruised, her proud chin lifted in defiance despite the terror in her eyes.
Standing near the vintage jukebox was Victor Russo.
He was holding Leo by the collar of his yellow raincoat. Leo was completely silent, his small face pale with shock, still clutching his wooden train.
“Tear down the paneling!” Victor barked at three of Dante’s armed men. “Eleanor hid the ledger behind the electrical box. Find it!”
“You’re a coward, Victor,” Rosa spat, her voice thick with disgust. “Taking a child? Threatening women? You have no honor.”
Victor walked over to Rosa and slapped her across the face. The sound cracked through the diner like a whip.
I gasped, taking a step forward, but Alessandro clamped a hand over my mouth and pulled me back against the stainless steel prep counter.
“Not yet,” Alessandro breathed into my ear.
He pointed to the ceiling. Above the prep area was the grease vent—a massive, reinforced aluminum duct that ran directly over the main dining area.
“You know this building,” Alessandro whispered. “Can you get up there and drop behind the counter? Distract them for exactly five seconds so I can get a clear shot at Victor without hitting Leo.”
I looked at the narrow vent, then down at my bandaged hands. They were throbbing with pain from the shattered glass earlier.
“Yes,” I lied.
Alessandro boosted me up. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming as I hauled my weight onto my bleeding palms, crawling into the grease-slicked duct.
I shimmied forward until I was directly over the espresso machine in the front of the diner. Through the metal grate, I could see Victor directly below me, holding Leo.
“Boss, we found something!” one of Dante’s men yelled, pulling a black, dust-covered book from a hole in the wall behind the jukebox.
Victor smiled, a cold, triumphant grin. He let go of Leo’s coat to take the book.
This is it.
I kicked the vent grate as hard as I could.
The heavy metal grate snapped off its hinges and plummeted, crashing into the espresso machine below with a deafening, explosive clatter of metal and steam.
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Victor and Dante’s men whipped around, aiming their guns at the ceiling.
It was exactly the five seconds Alessandro needed.
