Shadow Flight (The Shadow Series)

by Christine Feehan

  “I’m sorry, piccola, I shouldn’t have taken you with me. You aren’t trained. Your body isn’t conditioned for this kind of travel yet.” He swept back her hair and did his best to try to massage her neck and shoulders to ease the cramping.

  “Not you, Taviano,” she denied, her voice stuttering a little. “Not your fault.”

  He didn’t want her to talk. It was obviously too much of an effort. He sank onto the floor and pulled her onto his lap, away from the corner where she’d gotten sick. They were in the darkest part of the room, but where Iker had deliberately placed overhead lights that could swing and cast macabre shadows that would add to the sinister atmosphere and strike fear into enemies.

  Those shadows were everywhere, allowing Taviano full access to almost anywhere in the warehouse. He needed to start a gun battle and allow the Demon members from the two chapters to take one another out. In order to do that, Clariss had to be protected. His mind worked to solve that piece of the puzzle even as he rocked Nicoletta gently back and forth, breathing deeply, willing her to follow the rhythm he was setting for her.

  She kept her head down and her fingers pressed to her face. With her hair falling around her, he couldn’t see her expression.

  “Are you bleeding?”

  She hesitated as if she might attempt to deceive him, but then remembered his warning. “A little. My nose. I think my left ear. My head feels like it was in a vise. Is that normal?”

  “It happens. Usually at first, or when we’re in a fast tube, like a feeder tube. Your body isn’t conditioned to this type of travel. I shouldn’t have allowed it without bringing you into it slowly and letting you get used to it. I was being selfish, Nicoletta.”

  “That’s not true.” She started to shake her head and stopped immediately. “You wanted me on the plane. I pretty much begged to stay with you. Don’t make this your fault. This was our decision. I wanted to be with Clariss if she needed me. Did you see her? Is she all right? Did they hurt her?”

  “It doesn’t look as if they raped her.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I need to know if you’re all right, Nicoletta.”

  “It’s a headache. I’ve had them before.”

  “Like this?”

  “Ummhmm.” She didn’t nod, but he had the impression of her nodding. “I was hiding in my room when Diego, my step-uncle, came to get me. Cruz, Alejo and Diego would sometimes come together, and other times one would come alone, but it was always horrible when they did.”

  He stroked soothing caresses down the thick, luxurious length of her hair, all the while watching the tension building between the two factions in the warehouse. “How old were you?”

  “It was when I first went to live with my step-uncles in New York. I was only fifteen. My parents had just died in a car accident, and I was sent to live with those terrible men in a completely different environment. I didn’t know them. I’d never met them. I went from a loving home to a nightmare situation. I didn’t understand what happened, why I was suddenly just handed over to these strangers. I didn’t realize they were my father’s brothers.”

  He knew she was so shaken up by the fact that the Demons had Clariss in their hands and she had narrowly escaped the same fate Nicoletta had suffered that she told him the truth. He kept rocking her, soothing her, all the while watching the building tensions, waiting for his moment.

  “Your mother married their brother and he adopted you when you were four, but they never lived near his three brothers. He’d gotten away from the gang and made a life for himself,” Taviano supplied.

  “I didn’t know that. I only knew that I’d lost my parents, and suddenly I was with these three men who ripped apart my body every chance they got.”

  Taviano closed his eyes briefly, grateful for the dark of the shadows. He’d heard her screams, shared the nightmares, but knew he would never come close to knowing what it had been like for a fifteen-year-old innocent girl to go from a loving home to three grown men brutally using her whenever and however they felt like it.

  “That time, when Diego came, I had been in the shower, and I was naked. I found a shadow and just stayed there, shaking, my hand over my mouth, frozen. His brothers came in to help look for me. They thought I’d gone out a window. They ended up searching the house. My head felt like it was splitting in two when the light finally moved, and the shadow was gone. I couldn’t move. I just lay on the floor, curled up in a ball. My nose was bleeding then, too.”

  “What happened?”

  “They took turns raping me. And beating me. They were really angry when I didn’t tell them where I’d been.”

  Taviano forced down the bile rising in him. He couldn’t protect her from what had happened to her in her past. She’d risen like a phoenix, more powerful than ever, an amazing woman, a fighter, one willing to learn that every defense was an offense. Learn that her brain was her greatest weapon. Learn the Ferraro family business. Follow his lead even when she wasn’t certain where they were going because she trusted him that much and she had observed all along that the Ferraros were far more than what they appeared to the outside world, and she wanted to be a part of that.

  She had come to terms with her past. He knew those terrible years of repeated rape and beatings had shaped her and would rise up at times to strike at her unexpectedly, just as the things that had happened to him in his past could do the same, but they had both emerged victorious, stronger, both fighters.

  Although Benito Valdez still lived, the three step-uncles who had violated her were dead, killed by Stefano and Taviano, left on the floor of their apartment for Valdez and his lieutenants to find. Stefano and Taviano had taken Nicoletta with them into the shadows, but she had been unconscious—at least they thought she’d been. He was coming to find out she hadn’t been quite as unknowing as they believed.

  Nicoletta was extremely strong, and Taviano was proud of being her partner. He brushed a kiss on top of her head, still rocking her. Still breathing for her.

  “Can you still see her? Clariss?”

  That told him she still wasn’t opening her eyes, that the light would hurt her. He was going to have to move soon. The tension in the warehouse was stretching to a breaking point and he wanted it to go his way. He glanced at the clock on the wall across from him. Drago and Demetrio would be there any moment to retrieve Clariss and take her to join Pia and Bianca if she was uninjured. If she was hurt, she would be taken to a private doctor. Her parents would be flown in to join her and they would be placed in a safe house until the danger was over. The bodyguards knew better than to show themselves inside the warehouse or interfere in any way until he gave them the sign to go in and get Clariss.

  “Yes, she’s fine at the moment. I’m going to have to leave you right here, piccola. Will you be all right? You can’t move. Everyone is armed. Stay close to the wall and low to the floor. Also, stay quiet.”

  “I’m good. I know the rules. Tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “I’m going to get them to shoot each other without shooting Clariss, or us. That way, we’re not in any way involved in this mess.”

  She tried to look up at him but moaned softly and covered her face with her hands. “I am going to have so many questions for you when I can see again and we’re alone in a place where we’re not in danger.”

  He kissed the top of her head again and gently put her against the wall. “Stay put. You’re right at the mouth of the shadow.” He wanted her there so there would be less stress on her body and hopefully the headache would ease fast. If it didn’t, in spite of the danger of discovery, she would be going back with Clariss in the car to the cousins, and then Drago and Demetrio could escort her to the plane.

  “I’m not moving,” she reiterated.

  Taviano didn’t wait. He caught a small feeder tube that took him straight across the room to Carlos, the New Yorker in the red shirt. He was closest to Clariss and seemed the most protective of her. In a pinch, Taviano would bet Carlos wo
uld dive for her and take her to the floor to keep her from getting shot. If he didn’t, Taviano would have to do it and hope she never saw who actually tackled her.

  Iker and Santiago exchanged a few more heated words, Iker essentially telling Santiago that he could do anything he wanted with “the bitch” and he wasn’t waiting around for her boyfriend to show up. He had things to do. Santiago sent him a smile that all but said that he was a dumbass hothead and was going to die the moment they had him alone.

  Taviano stepped into a shadow that slid up behind Iker. The vice president of the local chapter had a bad habit of caressing his weapon as if it were a woman. He would take it out of his waistband and wrap his fist around the grip so he could stroke the barrel with his finger. Taviano knew it was a ploy so that when he really wanted to shoot someone, they had already been lulled into a false sense of security.

  This time when Iker performed his little “habit,” Taviano guided the VP’s arm toward the wall between Carlos and Clariss so the gun lined up perfectly, his touch so light, it was impossible to feel. The moment both people were in the clear, Taviano allowed only his hand to momentarily emerge from the shadow, squeezed the trigger with his gloved finger, then he was gone, sliding back into the tube. Immediately, he caught the feeder so that it brought him straight back to Clariss.

  Carlos reacted just as expected, gun drawn and firing steadily at the enemy as he knocked Clariss from the chair and covered her body with his own. The New York Demon had chosen his targets already and he took down three almost before he hit the floor. Iker turned and shot at Santiago as he threw himself down and rolled toward his men, shouting at them to kill the New Yorkers. He had no idea what had happened or what had caused his gun to fire, but Santiago was relentlessly shooting at him.

  Carlos turned the desk over for protection and dragged Clariss behind it. She didn’t struggle against him but didn’t help at all, reacting more like a rag doll, which alarmed Taviano. She seemed almost in a comatose state to him. Carlos gave her a harsh warning, ordering her to lie on the floor behind the overturned desk and not move. The moment he scrambled to the corner, peering around it, seeking targets, she lifted her head and took a quick look from one end of the room to the other, trying to find an exit. Clariss was an intelligent woman, pretending to be cowed when she wasn’t. Taviano allowed himself a sigh of relief.

  Carlos took aim at one of the LA Demons and squeezed off a single shot. As he did, Taviano rode the shadow that came in to the right of him. It was a tricky angle, especially as the shadow narrowed, and he didn’t want to be seen by Clariss if she happened to turn her head and look toward Carlos. Taviano slid feetfirst, catching Carlos in the rib cage and hip, sending him sliding into the open, exposing him to his enemies. Iker rose up on his knees and poured bullet after bullet into Carlos’s red shirt. Simultaneously, Carlos shot Iker, creating a zipper up the middle of his body from groin to throat. Iker fell backward onto the concrete and Carlos simply lay still.

  Santiago and the remaining three Los Angeles Demons continued to fire at one another. There was no doubt that Santiago was the better shooter. Taviano began to make his way toward Santiago. He was very close to where he had left Nicoletta, although he had his back to her and was about ten feet to one side of her, but it was too close for Taviano’s comfort. He was grateful that Clariss had kept it together and hadn’t screamed, but she was definitely thinking about trying to head for an exit. She just had to keep her head down until the shooting stopped.

  The three remaining LA Demons split up to come at Santiago from different directions. None of them paid attention to Clariss. She crawled toward the nearest exit. It was the door to the office, which would be the front entrance. Taviano had told Demetrio and Drago to wait outside the warehouse. He knew they had to have heard the shots and would be anxious. The moment that door cracked open they would be there, guns drawn.

  Santiago fired and the three local Demons returned shots in a deadly barrage. Clariss pushed the door open and Taviano saw his bodyguards catch at her and drag her out, slamming the door closed behind her. Their orders were to put her in the car and get her out of there. Now he had no choice: he would have to take Nicoletta through the shadows in order to get her back to the plane unless he found a way to call them back. Silently, he swore in several languages.

  He wanted to allow Santiago to kill all but one of the locals before they shot and hopefully killed the New York Demon. The gun battle was fierce, the three locals trying to maneuver Santiago into crossfire. He shot one of them in the leg, taking him down to the concrete floor, rolling to get a better aim as he fired continuously in an attempt to kill the gang member. The local tried to make a run for it but with his injury, couldn’t get up. Santiago’s barrage of bullets ended his life.

  As Santiago rolled back to get under cover, the local to his left shot him in the leg and head. Taviano saw both bullets score. Santiago flopped over and then lay still, the gun still in his hand.

  Taviano slid out of the shadows just behind Santiago. He had to use Santiago’s gun to kill the last two remaining locals. He didn’t want any evidence leading to any of the Ferraros being at the warehouse. Clariss would tell the police that Demetrio and Drago had come to get her, that she’d crawled away by herself and they’d gotten there just as she exited. It was the truth as she knew it.

  He took the gun from Santiago’s open palm, his eyes on his target, the local who had killed the New Yorker. The man was close and moving closer, sure that Santiago was dead but cautious all the same. Taviano had lost sight of Jorge. The last he’d seen of him, the man had been slinking toward an exit, still firing toward Santiago but, as earlier in the suite, looking toward self-preservation first. The Los Angeles Demon was approaching, in direct line now. Taviano rose up and shot him, almost point-blank. He made each bullet count, firing two in the throat and one between the eyes.

  At the first sound of gunfire, Nicoletta forced herself out of the huddled ball she’d been in. Everything hurt. Every single inch of her body. Even her toes. But she’d asked for this. Even demanded it. On some level she’d even known, because she’d been experiencing it on minor levels on her own. She hadn’t known one could move from one place to another, but she had moved in her bedroom when she lived with the step-uncles. She had just thought she was going crazy.

  She’d tried multiple times after that to re-create that experience, but she hadn’t been effective in completely hiding or moving from one place to another. Now she realized she’d been naked then, in the shower when she’d heard them coming for her. She hadn’t wanted to face her step-uncles naked, so she rarely took her clothes off, and her showers were super-brief. Now she realized her clothes had been the problem all along.

  She pressed her fingers to her mouth. They were trembling. Her lips were trembling. She forced them to stop. She had learned to take control of herself. She had Emmanuelle and Mariko Ferraro to thank for that. They worked with her when they trained her on self-defense. They talked to her constantly about not just training her body but training her mind as well. What defense actually was. What power was. What it embodied. What control was. What that embodied. She saw those traits in both women, and more, she felt both power and control when they walked into a room. They embodied both traits, and she wanted that kind of confidence and to command and earn that same respect.

  Nicoletta ignored the fact that her head wanted to explode and her body felt as though it was in pieces. She knew it wasn’t. Her skin covered her bones. She had only to open her eyes and look, and she would see for herself. It was only in her mind, a trick. The mind was powerful. Vittorio Ferraro lectured her on that subject as he trained her on speed and how to throw a proper punch and kick with maximum power so that when she struck, she was focusing that strike on a tiny area, but the penetration was so deep that it could shatter bones or destroy organs inside the body.

  Focus, little sister. The punch doesn’t stop at the surface. You want to penetrate, go out the other si
de. You kick through the obstacle, whatever it is.

  How many times had he said that to her in his patient, soft, commanding voice? Vittorio never raised his voice. Never was exasperated or impatient. He pushed her hard, but he worked just as hard, giving her his time generously and repeating lessons when she asked him to go over a technique she wanted to improve.

  Her lashes fluttered, protesting, a kind of terror seizing her at the idea of allowing light in, but she was determined to overcome fear. She was with Taviano for a reason. She didn’t want to be deadweight that he dragged around. She wanted to be a partner, useful to him. If that was going to happen, she had to open her eyes, and she had to do it now. She was going to use every lesson the Ferraros had taught her to get back on her feet and get over the effects of the shadow riding. If they could do it, so could she.

  She opened her eyes very slowly, all the while hearing the sound of guns going off. She was afraid for Taviano and Clariss. That fear for them, more than anything else, helped her to overcome her own terror of her head exploding. Pain burst through her skull as the light pierced her eyes, but when she blinked rapidly, she realized that the shadows dulled the brightness to a dimmer gray, helping to mitigate the effect.

  It suddenly occurred to her that every lesson in the Ferraro training dojo ended with sitting on the mats, legs tucked up, breathing deeply, meditating. The breathing was always the same, slow and even, and they corrected her breathing almost more than they corrected her fighting techniques. Taviano had used that same breathing to slow hers to match his. She used it now and kept breathing, just the way she’d been taught, and found she could recover faster.

  The numbness in her body, the feeling of paralysis, lessened, as did the images in her mind that she wasn’t all there. She looked down, half expecting her skin to be gone, but there it was, covering her arms and legs. Her body was intact and that helped push away more of the sensation that she was no longer in human form. Breathing deeply, she pressed her hand against the wall of the warehouse, her first physical sensation. The contact with something solid really grounded her.