35. Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Five
Lorenzo
The corridor is narrower than it looked from the doorway, barely wide enough for two people to move side by side comfortably, with painted concrete walls, exposed pipes overhead, and identical metal doors spaced at intervals along both sides.
It is exactly the kind of place no customer would ever know existed, which means Greco may not know it exists either.
Donna moves first because this was her idea and because she has actually seen a layout like this before. I stay close behind her, keeping my weapon ready while splitting my attention between the corridor ahead and the concealed door behind us.
Voices are already carrying through the store we left, muffled by walls but close enough to make it obvious that Greco and his people have breached the sales floor.
Donna hears them too, but she keeps moving.
Mocha stays tight beside her, alert without making a sound, and I find myself absurdly grateful for every hour she spent training him.
Tonight he has already warned us about men we could not see, taken one of them down, searched rooms before we entered them, and obeyed her through gunfire without hesitation.
The farther we move from the first store, the more I begin to believe this might actually work.
Greco knew exactly where we were a few minutes ago. He had all the exits covered, and enough people outside that surrendering myself had started to look like the only way to buy Donna time.
Now we are moving behind the buildings without ever stepping outside, and even if he figures out about this corridor, he has to figure out exactly where we went before he can zero in on us again.
Donna reaches the first bend and slows, leaning just far enough around it to check what lies beyond.
I come up beside her.
The corridor continues another thirty or forty feet before opening into a wider service area with several doors leading into neighboring units.
“That looks promising,” she whispers.
“It looks better than the front door.”
She gives me the briefest smile before continuing.
Behind us, something heavy crashes in the store.
We both stop.
A man shouts.
Another voice answers, too distorted by distance to understand.
Donna looks back toward the concealed entrance. “They’re in the back.”
“Probably.”
“If the shelf fooled them at all, they’ll waste time checking the office and storage area before they realize there’s another door.”
“That was the idea.”
“We have to get into one of these units before they find this corridor.”
“Let's get some more distance first.”
We keep moving.
I hate putting more distance between myself and the road.
My men are still out there somewhere, including Rinaldi. The gunfire has long since stopped, and I have no idea what happened to them.
Before Donna, I would be following my instincts and trying to find my way back there.
But things are different now.
Armed men are searching for us, and Greco has just announced that he intends to take my sons and the woman I love before deciding whether to kill me.
There is no choice.
I will find out what happened to my men, and I will make Greco pay for all of this.
Donna reaches the wider service area and checks the first door. The handle does not move.
She tries the second. Locked again.
The third opens.
The room is dark, and I can't see much, except cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and shelving stacked nearly to the ceiling.
Donna makes to walk in there, but I catch her wrist. She looks at me.
“Let Mocha check first.”
She nods.
“Mocha. Search.”
The dog moves ahead, sniffing around the shelves before circling toward the second door. He pauses there, alert but quiet.
Donna watches him closely.
“He doesn’t smell anyone close.”
“Good enough for me.”
We enter. I close the door behind me and lock it. This way, Greco will have to break through multiple locks and waste more time trying to find us.
A second door sits on the opposite wall.
My eyes are just starting to adjust to the complete dark, so I see Donna cross to the door and pause to look back at me.
I step up behind her and flex my grip on my gun before I give her a nod back.
She eases the door open a few inches first, then widens it when nothing moves on the other side.
Another storage room lies beyond, this one filled with racks of clothing covered in clear plastic and stacks of boxes marked with sizes and inventory numbers. A narrow passage runs between the racks toward what has to be the sales floor.
Mocha steps through ahead of us, checks the room, then looks back at Donna without alerting.
She gives me a small nod. “Clear.”
I follow her inside and close the door behind us, locking it before we move deeper into the store.
We're halfway to the storefront when Greco's voice suddenly comes from somewhere in the distance.
“CONTl!”
It is dulled by concrete walls and closed doors, but there’s no mistaking the rage in it.
Donna glances at me. “Someone found the service corridor.”
“Yes,” I say. “Let's keep moving.”
We keep moving through the stockroom until the darkness gives way to the faint glow spilling in from the sales floor ahead.
The store is larger than I expected, with rows of clothing racks, display tables, and mannequins creating enough obstruction that we can move without being immediately visible from the windows.
Donna slows as we reach the edge of the sales floor and studies the front of the store.
“We’re far enough from where they last saw us that they won’t know which storefront we came through,” she murmurs.
“That buys us something.”
“Especially if they’re still searching behind the stores.”
I look back toward the stockroom door we locked, then toward the dark windows facing the parking lot. Greco may know we escaped into the service corridor, but he has no reason yet to know we abandoned it here.
Donna shifts closer to one of the clothing racks and peers carefully toward the street. “If Mario is coming, this gives us a better chance of seeing him before Greco sees us.”
We keep moving through the sales floor until we reach the front entrance, staying behind the racks long enough to make sure no one is standing directly outside.
The rain still sheets across the windows, and from this far down the strip I can no longer see our wrecked SUV or the store where Greco first cornered us.
Donna edges closer to the glass and looks out toward the parking lot.
“Clear enough.”
We have spent long enough moving through the building. Every minute we stay inside gives Greco more time to figure out where we went, and once his people start checking storefronts instead of the corridor, this stops being an advantage and becomes another trap.
We crouch by the front door, and Donna gives Mocha a quiet command to “Watch.”
His attention snaps toward the parking lot.
I ease the door open and let him look first. He gives no warning, so I step out beneath the awning with my gun ready and sweep the nearest section of the lot.
Nothing moves.
“Come on.”
Donna follows immediately with Mocha beside her, and we leave the shelter of the store behind, cutting across the parking lot rather than heading back in the direction of the ambush.
The rain is heavier now, enough to blur the lights farther down the road, but it also works in our favor. Anyone watching from a distance has the same visibility problem we do.
Donna comes up beside me. “Where are we going?”
“Away from the strip.”
“That I figured out.”
“There’s a side street past these buildings. If we can reach it, we can put another block between us and Greco before he even realizes we’re not in the building anymore.”
She nods and keeps moving.
But we don't make it quite as far as I had hoped.
We only make it halfway across the parking lot before a shout cuts across the lot behind us.
I turn just enough to see movement near the storefront, several figures spilling out beneath the awning we just left.
“They found us,” Donna says.
Gunfire cracks through the rain before I can answer, and I grab her arm as we both veer toward the corner of the building rather than continue straight across the open pavement.
“Move.”
She does, with Mocha keeping pace beside her as we run for the narrow gap between the end of the strip and the next building.
Another shot follows and hits the brick just as we round the corner to take cover between the buildings.
“That was too damn fast,” Donna says, panting.
“Greco’s very motivated,” I respond.
“I can't wait until I never have to hear that guy's name again,” she says, tilting her head back against the brick for just a second.
“It won't be long until you don't have to,” I promise her.
Her mouth twitches, but the sound of footsteps splashing through the lot wipes the expression away almost immediately.
I glance toward the opening between the buildings. “They’re coming around.”
Donna straightens and brings her gun up again. “Then we keep moving.”
The gap opens onto the side street I was aiming for, and from here it is only a short run to the next block. I look once toward the parking lot, judge the distance of the approaching footsteps, then nod toward the street.
“Go.”
We break from the cover of the buildings and run.
The side street is slick beneath our feet, rain shining across the pavement under the streetlights as Donna and I push toward the next block with Mocha keeping pace beside her.
Behind us, the footsteps get louder, followed by another shout and the unmistakable sound of men rounding the corner we just left.
Then headlights flare at the far end of the street.
For one terrible second, I think Greco has people waiting ahead of us too.
The first SUV screeches hard into view.
I recognize it immediately.
“Mario.”
Donna looks toward the approaching vehicles. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Two more SUVs follow behind him, moving fast enough that water sprays from the tires as they close the distance. Relief hits me hard, but there is no time to stop because Greco’s people are still behind us.
The first shot comes from their direction.
Mario’s people answer almost immediately.