Chapter 13 - A Clash in the Dining Room
The three uninvited guests didn't head for the bar or the host stand. They moved with aggressive, predatory purpose straight toward booth four. The wealthy patrons seated nearby immediately shrunk back into their chairs, sensing the sudden, violent shift in atmospheric pressure. Forks stopped mid-air. Conversations vanished into thin air.
Gabriel didn't flinch. He stepped smoothly out of the booth, blocking their path before they could reach Tessa. His tall, imposing frame radiated an aura of lethal calm.
"You're a long way from your territory, Vince," Gabriel said, his voice cutting through the silent room like a razor blade.
The lead man—a thick-set brute with a jagged scar running down his cheek and cold, dead eyes—stopped dead in his tracks. He sneered, flashing a row of yellowed teeth. "We heard rumors, Rossi. Word on the street is that your little shipping operation got hit because of a leak inside your own camp. The boss wants answers. And we figured we'd start by cleaning house right here in your favorite restaurant."
Vince’s eyes darted past Gabriel’s shoulder, locking directly onto Tessa, who stood frozen near the service station with her water pitcher still in hand. A cruel, predatory smirk spread across Vince’s face. "Or maybe we start with the little waitress who thinks she can play with the big boys."
In a fraction of a second, the tension in the room snapped. Vince's hand dipped toward his waistband, reaching for the grip of a concealed firearm.
He never made it.
Before Gabriel could even draw his weapon, a heavy silver water pitcher came flying through the air with terrifying velocity, catching Vince squarely across the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch of breaking cartilage. Vince roared in pain, stumbling backward into his associates.
Tessa didn't wait. Drawing upon the intensive combat awareness Marcus had drilled into her during her grueling safehouse training, she vaulted over the service station counter, grabbing a heavy cast-iron skillet left on the warming rack.
The two remaining thugs drew their weapons, but before they could level them at Gabriel, the heavy oak doors burst open a second time. Marcus and four armed enforcers poured into the restaurant from the street entrance, their weapons drawn and locked dead on the intruders.
"Drop your weapons! Drop them now!" Marcus bellowed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings with deafening authority.
Vince, clutching his bleeding, broken nose, glared murderously at Gabriel and Tessa, realizing they had walked straight into a well-prepared trap. He slowly released his grip on his gun and raised his hands into the air, his men following suit immediately.
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"You think this is over, Rossi?" Vince snarled through bloodied lips. "Don Donato won't let this slide. He's coming for all of you."
"Let him come," Gabriel replied coldly, stepping forward and signaling for Marcus to haul the intruders out into the alley. "My father and I will be waiting."
