Chapter 7 - The Taste of Betrayal and Pecans
The ride to the diner was a blur of flashing streetlights and roaring engines. The scarred security chief, whose name I learned was Marco, drove the armored truck like a man possessed. I sat in the back with Ellie wrapped in my coat, shivering as the heater blasted over us.
My mind was entirely focused on the old Seeburg jukebox.
Frank had loved that machine. He spent hours polishing the chrome and replacing the blown fuses. To think that for three years, a cartel’s lockbox had been sitting inside it, playing Ben E. King on repeat, made me sick to my stomach.
“How far away are we?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Two miles,” Marco said, gripping the steering wheel. “Mr. Moretti’s car is right behind us. But Thorne’s crew had a head start. We might be walking into a warzone.”
I looked down at Ellie. She was exhausted, her eyes drooping despite the terror of the night. I couldn't bring her into a gunfight.
“Marco, stop the car,” I said firmly.
He glanced back in surprise. “Ma’am, I have orders to keep you moving—”
“Stop the car!” I demanded.
He slammed on the brakes, pulling the heavy truck into the parking lot of a closed gas station, just a mile down the road from the diner. A moment later, Gabriel’s SUV pulled in right behind us.
Gabriel stepped out into the rain and walked quickly to my window. He looked furious, his suit soaked, his gun still in his hand.
“Mrs. Bennett, why did you stop? We need to get you to safety.”
“Ellie is not going anywhere near that diner,” I said, rolling down the window. “Marco is going to take her to the police station. Or the safehouse. Anywhere but there.”
Gabriel nodded immediately. “Agreed. Marco, get the girl out of here.”
“I’m going with you,” I said, pushing my door open.
Gabriel blocked my path. “No. Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous.”
“Gabriel, listen to me,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “That is my diner. My husband hid that box. I know exactly how to open the jukebox without triggering the anti-tamper lock Frank installed on it in 2002. If Thorne’s men try to pry it open, it will jam the internal mechanics, and they’ll have to blow it up to get inside. You need me.”
Gabriel stared at me. For a moment, I saw a flicker of profound respect in his dark eyes.
“Fine,” he said. “But you stay behind me.”
I kissed Ellie’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, baby. Grandma loves you.”
“I love you too,” she sniffled.
I climbed out of the truck and slid into the passenger seat of Gabriel’s SUV. In the back seat, Ethan was still handcuffed, looking pale and miserable.
Gabriel got into the driver’s seat and slammed the gas. We tore down the wet highway toward Bennett’s Family Table.
“Mom, what are you doing?” Ethan cried from the back seat. “You’re going to get yourself killed over a building!”
I didn't turn around. I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “It’s not just a building, Ethan. It’s the truth. It’s your father’s honor. Something you clearly know nothing about.”
We rounded the final corner, the neon sign of the diner coming into view through the rain.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
The large glass front windows of the diner had been completely shattered. Two black vans were parked haphazardly on the front lawn, their doors wide open. Inside the diner, the warm overhead lights were off, but the flashing beams of flashlights cut through the darkness.
They were already inside.
Gabriel parked the SUV a block away, behind a thick row of hedges. He turned to his men in the back seat. “Watch him,” he said, pointing a thumb at Ethan.
Gabriel turned to me. “Stay low. Do exactly as I say.”
We crept through the rain, moving silently across the wet grass toward the back entrance of the kitchen. I knew this path blindfolded. I had walked it every morning at 4:30 AM for thirty years.
Gabriel picked the lock on the back door in seconds. We slipped into the dark, familiar kitchen. It smelled faintly of old grease, cinnamon, and the pecan pie I had baked just yesterday.
Through the serving window, we could see the dining room.
Four armed men were tearing the place apart. The booths were slashed open, the stuffing ripped out. The cash register lay smashed on the floor.
Standing in the center of the room, holding a heavy crowbar, was a man in a tan trench coat. He had sharp, cruel features and a silver streak in his dark hair.
Victor Thorne’s second-in-command. The man who had taken over the operation.
“Check the kitchen again!” the man yelled. “Tear up the floorboards!”
“Boss,” one of the thugs said, pointing his flashlight at the corner booth. “What about this old piece of junk?”
He kicked the 1985 Seeburg jukebox.
The glass cracked.
“Break it open,” the leader commanded.
I gasped quietly. Gabriel put a hand over my mouth, pulling me back against the stainless steel prep table.
“They’re going to destroy it,” I whispered against his hand.
Gabriel drew his weapon. “Stay here.”
Before I could stop him, Gabriel stepped out of the kitchen, raising his gun into the dim light of the ruined dining room.
“Drop the crowbar, Elias,” Gabriel’s voice echoed through the diner, calm and deadly cold.
The men froze. Elias turned around, a slow, malicious smile spreading across his face.
“Gabriel Moretti,” Elias said, dropping the crowbar. It clanged loudly against the linoleum. “I wondered when you’d show up. But you’re too late. The box belongs to us.”
Gabriel didn't lower his gun. “That box belonged to my father. And you’re not walking out of here with it.”
Elias chuckled. He reached inside his trench coat.
Gabriel cocked his weapon. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Oh, I think you'll want to see this,” Elias said.
He pulled his hand out.
He wasn't holding a gun.
He was holding a lighter. A silver Zippo.
He flicked it open, the flame illuminating his cruel smile. Then, he looked down at his feet.
For the first time, I noticed the strong, overpowering smell in the air. It wasn't just cinnamon and grease.
It was gasoline.
May you like
The entire dining room floor was soaked in it.
“Tell the old woman to come out of the kitchen, Gabriel,” Elias sneered, holding the flame inches above the soaked floorboards. “Or I burn her precious diner, and your father’s legacy, to ash right now.”
