Chapter 6 - THE ALLEYWAY STANDOFF
The rain came down harder, slicking the pavement and soaking through my uniform. Dominic laughed, pulling a black handgun from his jacket and pressing it to the boy’s shoulder. “Look at this,” Dominic mocked. “The loyal manager arrives. Who told you, Marco? Your cheating fiancée?” Marco ignored him. He walked slowly toward the awning, the heavy iron bar gripped tightly in his hands. He looked at Leo. The resemblance was undeniable. The same jawline. The same thick, dark hair. “I didn't know,” Marco whispered, his voice cracking with a grief that spanned twelve years. “I swear to God, I didn't know.” Leo looked up at him, terrified, tears streaming down his small face. “Don't move, Marco,” Luca ordered sharply. Luca’s men had their hands inside their jackets, waiting for the signal. But Dominic had the gun directly on the child. “Sign the territory papers, Luca,” Dominic demanded, holding out a crumpled document. “And sign over the deed to this restaurant. Then you get the kid, and Marco gets to play daddy.” I looked through the glass of the restaurant. In the back, near the kitchen doors, I saw a shadow moving. It was my mother. She was holding the heavy cast-iron skillet she used to make Sunday sauce. She couldn't hear the conversation, but she saw the guns. She saw me. She crept toward the front door, staying low in the shadows. I had to distract Dominic. “Dominic!” I shouted in Italian. “Mia madre non ti deve nulla! Il debito era falso!” (My mother owes you nothing! The debt was fake!) Dominic sneered at me. “Shut up, little girl.” “I saw the ledgers!” I lied, stepping forward, drawing his eyes away from the glass door. “I know you doctored the interest rates! The police have the files!” Dominic’s grip on the gun wavered for a fraction of a second as he glared at me. “You’re bluffing.” That fraction of a second was all it took. Behind the glass, my mother swung the heavy cast-iron skillet upward with all her strength, smashing it directly into the emergency fire alarm box on the wall. The alarm triggered immediately. A deafening siren erupted through the street, accompanied by flashing strobe lights. Dominic flinched, instinctively turning his head toward the noise. Luca moved like lightning. He lunged forward, grabbing Dominic’s wrist and twisting it violently upward. The gun fired into the air, the shot lost in the blare of the siren. Marco swung the tire iron, striking Dominic behind the knees. The smuggler collapsed to the wet pavement with a howl of pain. I didn't watch the rest. I dove forward and grabbed Leo, pulling his small, trembling body against my chest, shielding him with my own back. Luca’s men descended on Dominic, pinning him to the ground and stripping him of his weapons. Luca stood over him, breathless but completely in control. “You came to my city,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the siren. “You threatened my family. You threatened my staff.” He looked at his lead bodyguard. “Take him to the warehouse. Call the police. Give them the evidence of his smuggling rings. Let him rot in a federal cell.” I held Leo tightly as Marco dropped to his knees beside us in the rain. He reached out, his hands shaking, and gently touched the boy’s wet hair. “I’m your father,” Marco wept, pulling the boy into his arms. “I’m your father.” Leo didn't pull away. He buried his face in Marco’s shoulder. I stood up, turning toward the restaurant. Luca had already taken a heavy master key from Dominic’s pocket. He unlocked the padlock and threw the door open. My mother ran out, dropping the skillet, and threw her arms around me. “Emma! Bambina mia!” she cried, kissing my cheeks. I held her tight, finally letting the tears fall. Luca watched us. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out the deed to the restaurant Dominic had been holding, and tore it in half.
