Chapter 5 - THE GETAWAY CAR
They emerged in a dark, rain-slicked alley two blocks from the Obsidian. The distant wail of police sirens was a chaotic symphony across the Chicago skyline. Lorenzo’s guard, Marco, was pale, losing too much blood.
"We can't take a cab, and all my drivers are likely dead or compromised," Lorenzo stated analytically, leaning against a brick wall. He looked at Evelyn. "Do you have a car?"
"A 2008 Honda Civic. It's parked in the employee lot three blocks south," she said, her teeth chattering from the cold and the shock.
"Give me the keys."
"I'm driving," Evelyn surprised herself by saying. "You don't know the transmission. It stalls in second gear. And if the cops are looking for a man in a bloody tuxedo, they won't look twice at a waitress driving a junker."
Lorenzo stared at her for a long moment. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Fine. Marco, put Celeste in the trunk."
"You can't put me in a trunk!" Celeste shrieked, her emerald dress ruined, blood staining her leg. "I am a Vane! My family will tear you apart!"
"Your family is going to be attending your closed-casket funeral by Tuesday," Lorenzo replied coldly. Marco shoved the screaming woman into the trunk of Evelyn’s battered Civic and slammed it shut.
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Evelyn got into the driver’s seat. Her hands were shaking violently on the steering wheel. Lorenzo slid into the passenger side, his large frame dwarfing the small car. He smelled of expensive cologne, gunpowder, and blood.
"Drive, Evelyn," he said softly. "Get us to Cicero."
