Chapter 6 - The Kitchen Corridor Escape
Chaos erupted into a full-scale tactical retreat.
Carmine scooped Lucia into his arms, the little girl gasping in fright as she buried her face in his broad shoulder. "Got her, Boss!" Carmine yelled over the roar of returning gunfire from the alley entrance.
June didn't hesitate. She grabbed her leather handbag, kicked off her high heels with ruthless efficiency, and grabbed Carmine’s sleeve. "This way! The prep kitchen leads to the delivery dock. Move, move, move!"
Lorenzo covered their flank, firing two controlled shots down the hallway to pin the second gunman behind a structural pillar. Glass and debris crunched beneath his Italian leather shoes as he backed toward the kitchen doors, his dark eyes never leaving the smoke-filled corridor.
"June, get out!" Lorenzo barked, his voice laced with an intensity that broached zero argument.
"I’m right behind you, you idiot!" she shouted back, shoving open the heavy stainless-steel doors of the kitchen just as a bullet ricocheted off the metal frame inches from her ear.
They spilled into the industrial kitchen. Chef’s aprons fluttered off hooks, and metal pots clattered to the floor as Carmine barreled through like an armored bulldozer, shielding Lucia with his entire body. The back exit—a heavy steel fire door leading directly into the rain-slicked alleyway—was twenty feet away.
"Carmine, take her to the safehouse on Beacon Street. Use the emergency comms," Lorenzo ordered, standing in the doorway with his gun raised, scanning the corridor behind them.
"And you?" Carmine demanded, pausing with one hand on the steel push-bar of the back door.
"I'm going to make sure these bastards never forget why they stayed out of Boston for the last five years," Lorenzo said quietly. The look in his eyes was absolute death.
June stopped dead in her tracks just as she reached the door. She looked back at Lorenzo, standing silhouette against the flashing red and blue lights of distant police sirens beginning to wail down the main avenue. The emerald dress was stained with dust, her red hair was wild around her shoulders, and her chest heaved with adrenaline.
"You promised to finish the Chianti," June said, her voice cutting clearly through the chaos.
May you like
Lorenzo blinked, caught off guard for the hundredth time that night. A slow, lethal, breathtaking smile spread across his face.
"Order a second bottle," Lorenzo replied. "I'll be ten minutes."
