Chapter 5 - The Rain-Slicked Escape
We slipped out through the diner's metal service exit into the alleyway where the rain was coming down in sheets, turning the asphalt into a mirror that reflected the bleeding red and blue neon of the front sign.
The air was sharp and cold, smelling of ozone and wet pavement. I cradled Sofia tightly against my coat, shielding her face from the downpour with my jacket lapel. Her breathing was steady, deep and rhythmic—the slow, heavy cadence of a child medicated against her will, but alive. Gloriously, fiercely alive.
Ruby led the way toward a battered blue sedan tucked tight against the brick wall of the laundry mat next door. Her hands shook as she jammed the key into the ignition, but the engine caught on the second turn, sputtering to life with a reassuring rumble of the heater.
"Get in the back, keep her warm," Ruby said over her shoulder as she threw the car into reverse.
I slid into the backseat, pulling Sofia into my lap and wrapping my wool overcoat around her shivering shoulders. As the sedan backed out of the alley and fishtailed onto the boulevard, I glanced back toward the diner.
Through the rain-streaked rear window, I saw Dante stumbling out the front door of the establishment. He had a white cloth pressed to his temple, his dark suit jacket soaked through, his bare wrist catching the amber streetlights. He stood alone amidst the shattered glass of the front window, staring after our vanishing taillights with a look of absolute, venomous fury.
He didn't pull a gun. He didn't chase us. He just stood there like a ghost refusing to sink, watching his entire empire slip through his fingers.
"Where are we going, Mr. Moretti?" Ruby asked, her knuckles white on the steering wheel as she navigated the deserted midnight streets. "We can't go to your mansion. Dante's men know every square inch of the estate. They'll be waiting there before we even cross the gates."
"Not my house," I said, my gaze fixed on the pale, peaceful face of my daughter sleeping against my chest. "We’re going to federal Marshal Vance. He’s been trying to get me to hand over the port shipping manifests for six months. I told him no because I thought blood was thicker than prison bars."
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I reached into Sofia’s coat pocket and felt a small, hard object—a tiny plastic rectangle no larger than my thumb. The flash drive. The proof of every illegal transaction, drug route, and weapon shipment Dante had funneled through our family docks under the cover of legitimate commerce.
"Step on it, Ruby," I said softly. "Let's go end this."
