The Bloodline of Boston and the Secrets Hidden Beneath Sullivan Diner
Luca whimpered, but Liana remained quiet, her small fist clutching the edge of her blanket.
“Go!” Dominic roared.
He dragged his bleeding leg toward the pantry doorway, raising his weapon.
I turned and ran toward the back of the freezer room.
The air was freezing, smelling of stale grease and raw meat.
I found the iron latch of the old coal chute.
It was rusted shut, but my fingers found a heavy metal pipe on the floor.
I wedged the pipe under the latch and pried upward with all my strength.
The metal gave way with a loud, screeching scrape.
Behind me, the diner door burst open with a crash of splintered wood.
Shouts echoed through the kitchen.
“Where is he?” a voice yelled.
Then came the deafening roar of Dominic’s pistol.
The sound bounced off the tile walls, rattling my teeth.
I didn’t look back.
I pushed the heavy double carrier through the narrow chute first.
It slid down into the wet darkness of the side alley.
I scrambled after them, scraping my elbows against the rough brick walls.