Chapter 6 - The Iron Poker
The coal tunnel was six feet wide and five feet high.
Dominic Sable’s two primary enforcers—men known in the underworld as the Miller Brothers—crawled through the narrow brick passage carrying tactical flashlights and silenced pistols.
"He's in here," the elder brother, Brick, grunted, his flashlight beam cutting through the damp coal dust. "The girl's tracks are fresh in the dirt. Sable wants her ankles broken before we bring her in."
"What about Vance?" the younger brother asked.
"Vance is half-dead from the paralytic," Brick sneered. "He can barely stand."
From the shadows sixteen inches above their heads, Gabriel Vance dropped like a falling anvil.
His heavy boot slammed directly into Brick’s face, shattering his nose and jaw with a single, brutal impact. Brick hit the coal floor without making a sound, knocked instantly unconscious.
Before the younger brother could raise his firearm, Vance swung the iron fireplace poker with terrifying velocity.
CRACK.
The heavy iron bar struck the second man’s wrist, shattering the bone and sending his silenced pistol spinning into the dark coal dust.
The enforcer screamed, clutching his broken arm, but Vance grabbed him by his tactical vest, slamming his heavy body repeatedly against the brick wall of the tunnel until the man went limp.
Vance stood in the dark, gasping for air, his father’s old navy sweater stained with soot and blood.
He bent down, picked up the fallen silenced pistol, checked the magazine—fifteen rounds of nine-millimeter hollow-point ammunition—and tucked it into his waistband.
He picked up the second man's tactical flashlight, turned it on, and began walking quickly down the tunnel toward 5th Avenue.
Ten minutes later, he reached the maintenance grate leading to the street level behind the old Orpheum Theater.
Leah was sitting on a wooden packing crate in the alley, holding Matteo tightly in her arms. The boy was wrapped in her heavy wool coat, fast asleep, his color returning to a healthy pink.
When Vance pushed the iron grate open and stepped into the alley, Leah stood up instantly, her eyes scanning his face, his clothes, and the blood on his knuckles.
"Are you...?" she started.
"They won't be following us," Vance said simply.
He walked over to them, looking down at Matteo’s peaceful face.
"He’s better," Vance noted softly.
"The medication worked," Leah whispered, her dark eyes filling with relief. "Thank you, Gabriel. You saved his life."
Vance looked away, as if unaccustomed to hearing such words from anyone who didn't owe him money.
"We aren't safe here," Vance said, his voice returning to business. "Sable will have posted men at every bus depot, train station, and highway exit within fifty miles. He knows we don't have a car."
"I know a place," Leah said softly.
Vance raised an eyebrow. "Another coal tunnel?"
"No," Leah offered a faint, tired smile. "Something much better. The Grand Aurelia."
Vance stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "The hotel? That’s where Sable’s headquarters is located! He owns the top three floors!"
"Exactly," Leah said, her dark eyes flashing with sharp, working-class brilliance. "Dominic Sable is looking for a plus-size waitress and a sick child in cheap motels and bus stations. He will never expect us to walk right back through the front door of the place he thinks he controls."
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Vance looked at her for three long seconds, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his sharp face.
"Miss Moreno," Vance said softly, "you are far more ruthless than my entire board of directors."
