Chapter 4 - Flight Through the Neon Rain
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The flashlight beam danced across the rusted bars of the drain, missing my head by inches.
Above us stood Franco, one of Carmine’s street enforcers, a man notorious for breaking kneecaps over unpaid loans.
"Probably just a sewer rat," a second voice muttered from the gravel path above.
"Leave it, man. Carmine wants all guards assembled in the grand ballroom for the loyalty pledge."
"If you’re not in the room when he takes the oath, you’re off the payroll."
The footsteps retreated, crunching quickly across the wet gravel toward the main mansion.
I didn't waste a single heartbeat.
I unlocked the rusted gate padlock with the master maintenance key I kept hidden in my apron pocket.
The gate shrieked in protest, but the rain had started pounding against the concrete, drowning out the sound.
Chicago skies opened up, dumping sheets of freezing October rain over the overgrown grounds.
"Gabriel, on three," I whispered, hooking my arms beneath his broad shoulders.
He gritted his teeth, his jaw working as he willed his paralyzed limbs to respond to his commands.
With a muffled roar of pure agony, he shoved himself off the gurney, his heavy frame crashing into mine.
The sheer weight of him drove me to my knees in the mud.
The smell of blood, wet wool, and his lingering sandalwood cologne filled my senses.
"Lean on me," I gasped, digging my sneakers into the slick clay.
We moved like wounded soldiers across the sixty yards separating the drain from my battered car.
Every step was a battle against gravity and time.
Gabriel's arm was locked around my neck, his hot breath brushing against my temple as he fought to remain conscious.
"You're stronger... than you look, little maid," he muttered, coughing up a spatter of dark fluid.
"You haven't seen me carry four hampers of wet linen up three flights of stairs," I replied through gritted teeth.
I managed to haul him into the passenger seat of the Civic, shoving his long legs inside and slamming the door.
I threw the bloody gurney into the brush, ran around to the driver's side, and slid behind the steering wheel.
The engine sputtered twice, whining in the cold dampness, before roaring to life with a rattling cough.
I killed the headlights and coasted down the winding dirt service road in total darkness.
Only when we cleared the outer estate gates and hit the black asphalt of Route 41 did I dare flip the lights on.
In the rearview mirror, the Falcone estate loomed against the stormy sky like a burning castle.
Sirens suddenly began wailing in the distance, sharp and frantic.
They had found Dr. Mercer.
They knew the body of the king was gone.
Gabriel leaned his head back against the stained fabric headrest, his breathing shallow and rapid.
His skin was burning up now, swinging wildly from the freezing chill of the toxin to a raging fever.
"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice barely louder than the hum of the windshield wipers.
"Nowhere Carmine’s money can reach," I answered, merging onto the highway toward South Chicago.
"My grandmother had a row house in Canaryville."
"It's been empty since she passed last winter, but the power still works and nobody knows the deed is in my name."
Gabriel turned his head slowly, studying my profile in the green glow of the dashboard lights.
"If Carmine catches you with me," he said softly, "death will be the kindest thing he offers."
May you like
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.
"Then we'd better make sure he doesn't catch us, Boss."
