Someone screamed. A bullet hit the glass door and John Balboni, owner of the hardware store, fell backward. He'd come to help and his gun was still clutched in his hand.
"Get down!" Taviano yelled, carrying Giovanni on through to the back room. "Angelina, I need you right now. It's bad."
Angelina left Emmanuelle's side and rushed to help him. They eased Giovanni to the floor. Angelina calmly applied pressure to the wound while Giovanni swore over and over. Another bullet tore into the shop and someone screamed for help. It sounded like Claretta, Berardo Giordano's wife. She yelled for someone to help her get John into the back room, that he was bleeding profusely.
"I'm getting that fucking bastard," Taviano snarled. He didn't care if the sniper was shooting into the shadows.
"No. Don't go," Emmanuelle pleaded. "We can't afford to lose anyone else."
He bent to brush a kiss on her forehead. "You know I have to go, bella." When he straightened, Val Saldi was there, his bodyguard, Dario, right behind him. They followed him out.
"What do you need, Taviano?" Val asked.
Dario was silent, his eyes on his enemy, probably ready to slit Taviano from groin to chest if he made one move on Val. Taviano wasn't about to turn down a gift horse. "A distraction. Can you move your vehicles around that building? I don't want anyone taking a chance of getting hit, but I want him worried. Packing up." The shooter was probably already doing that.
Val didn't answer him, but looked to his cousin. Dario immediately spoke into a radio and there was a flurry of activity instantly, cars starting up and taking off. Taviano took the opportunity to disappear. He ran around the corner, between the two buildings, back toward the main street, and stepped into a shadow. His body flew toward the buildings across the street.
The Saldi men surrounded the building front and back with their cars, the men leaping out to get under cover of the eaves so the sniper couldn't see them. Taviano rushed past them and up the side of the building. Whoever had sent these men to attack his family had used their own sniper as bait. The men were shooting into the shadows as if someone had told them they needed to watch out for anything in or coming out of the shadows. A shadow rider. Their enemy had to be a shadow rider.
The sniper had finished breaking down his weapon and was putting it into a case. He turned toward the stairwell that would take him down into the attic of the shop below him. Taviano was on him in seconds and he was feeling mean. His brothers called him hotheaded and said he had a volcanic temper. Right now, he was ice-cold.
He stepped out of the shadows right in front of the sniper and caught him by the throat, the other hand in his crotch, twisting while his fingers cut off all air. "You had better believe me when I tell you I'm not playing games with you."
The sniper coughed and struggled, turning gray, but he could barely reach the floor of the roof with the soles of his boots. Taviano was relentless. "Who the hell sent you after my family? I'm going to ease up on your throat and you answer me, or the pain is going to get a lot worse." He stared into the sniper's eyes, refusing to look away or allow him to look away.
He took a firmer grip on the groin, twisting that much harder while he eased his hold on the man's throat. The shooter coughed and gasped, tried to shake his head. "Don't know."
Before he managed to get the last word fully out, Taviano's fingers bit deeper into his throat and twisted his groin so hard the man managed to scream in agony despite the hand closing off his airway. Taviano didn't so much as blink. "I can keep this up for hours. You want to hold out, it's all the same to me. I'm going to fucking pull your cock off and shove it down your throat before we're through. You think I can't, you weren't given the full facts about whom you are up against. Let's try again." He eased his hold on the man's throat.
"Don't know." There was desperation in the sniper's eyes. Truth in his voice.
Taviano heard scraping on the fire escape and caught sight of Valentino Saldi as his head came up over the roof. Val leaned on the ladder and regarded Taviano. "And they say my family is crazy. Get it done, Ferraro. Cops are swarming all over this place. They think there's a war going on between the Saldis and Ferraros. Or that we're banding together against another crime family."
Taviano spun the sniper around, caught his head in a vicious grip and wrenched, snapping the neck. He let the body drop. "There's going to be a war, all right," he said, "and the cops don't have a clue what's coming."
"They won't let anyone leave. If you have some place to go, better go now before you're seen here," Val said. "Giovanni and Emme are being transported to the hospital. Gee's in bad shape. Emmanuelle needs an orthopedic surgeon immediately. I'll go as soon as I can and make certain they're protected. In the meantime, I'll send some of my men."
"Stefano's there." Even as he said it, Taviano worried for his brother. The world had gone crazy.
"I'll be at the hospital," Val said decisively.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ricco caught up his T-shirt and brought it to Mariko. The marks of the ropes were on her body, diamond-shaped patterns marking her pale skin. He dragged the shirt over her head. He liked seeing them there, as if he still surrounded her, held her close--and safe. His fingers skimmed the lines as he pulled the shirt down over her body.
"We're in for a fight. Emilio is watching on the security screens. He'll let us know where the enemy is, but he's saying there's an army coming over the fence from every direction. I'll need him to be our eyes."
He watched her closely. She had to be exhausted. She sent him a faint smile. "I'm good. Stop looking at me like I'm about to break. I'm not porcelain."
No, she wasn't. She was the real deal. A woman. His warrior woman. She'd stand by his side and fight but . . . "I need to know if you trust me, Mariko. Implicitly. With your life."
"Ricco, I let you tie me up." She tilted her head to look up at him.
"It isn't the same thing. I'm going to have you go outside while I'm inside. The house is built to protect the grounds as well as the interior." While he talked, he turned to the wall and laid his palm along the intricate pattern. Panels slid silently aside.
Her breath caught. She stood up carefully, gripping the back of the chair. "You have an arsenal in there."
"I believe in being prepared." He opened a drawer and pulled out two small earpieces. "Wear one of these. It can go through the tube, just like our clothes. You have to get it in the ear. Emilio and Enzo will be our eyes and ears from the control room. I'll be sitting up there." He pointed toward the wing above the Japanese garden.
The house was shaped like a U with the garden between the two jutting wings. Surrounding the house was a maze of more gardens with narrow walkways, forcing anyone moving through the extensive outer gardens to do so in single file. Throughout the grounds were many places Ricco had incorporated where a rider could easily slide through the permanent shadows he'd created within the maze.
This was the moment he'd known all along would come. The old council, made up of Dai Saito, Mikio Ito and Isamu Yamamoto, was making its move against his family. Mariko and Nicoletta were caught in the crosshairs. He'd dreaded this moment, had countless nightmares about it, but he was prepared. He just detested that he didn't know what was happening with the others.
He put in the earpiece. "Emilio, Mariko is going out onto the north side. I'm in the north tower. Check on all family members."
"Roger the north side and tower. I checked on all of them, including your parents. No one has texted back. I tried their bodyguards and everyone is silent. We have to assume they're under attack."
Ricco might have gone a little crazy, rage welling fast, guilt all-consuming, but he didn't have the luxury. He had Mariko to protect. He pulled his favorite rifle from the armory and caught up boxes of ammunition. "North garden, Mariko. Stay in the shadows until you hear Emilio or me tell you who and where to hit."
She didn't hesitate, and that humbled him. She was going out into the open in a T-shirt and red lace panties, no weap
ons, against an army of men heavily armed. Mercenaries by the look of them. Enzo was running facial recognition. Ricco caught her by the nape of her neck as she turned away from him, jerked her back to him and kissed her. He poured what he felt into her. Passion. Fear. Guilt. Rage. Admiration. Respect. All those things. His need to protect her. He was feeling very protective. She kissed him back and he tasted sweetness. Giving. Passion. Acceptance.
He let her go reluctantly. Their eyes met. She nodded and then slipped into a shadow, riding it down the stairs and out into the north gardens--and absolute danger. She didn't so much as hesitate. He knew he was more than halfway in love with her. She was a warrior woman, totally confident as she walked right into the shadow and disappeared to go face the enemy. She'd made herself vulnerable to him as a woman when she'd come so bravely to him in his studio, providing him with what he needed. No judgment. None. Just a giving of herself. He was falling hard and fast. Irrevocably. No going back.
He sprinted for the northern tower with the bank of windows on three sides. His walls were reinforced and bullets weren't getting in. The closed windows were bulletproof. He had to open a window to protect Mariko and wreak a little havoc of his own.
Outside, the gardens were designed to force anyone on the walkways to go single file and then turn corner after corner, like a maze. The entire outer garden was just that, a maze leading through path after path toward the house. It looked fun and beautiful, but it was deadly to an enemy. With all the shadows cast throughout the garden at any time during the day and with the lights on at night, the advantage was to the shadow rider.
From his vantage point at the window, he could see every open spot where the enemy would turn a corner, and Mariko would be waiting just inside the tube.
"Coming at you in five seconds. Three in a row. Take them at your leisure," Emilio instructed.
Ricco put his eye to the scope and instantly all three men appeared in detail. They had automatic weapons and belts of ammo slung across their bodies. He didn't want to shoot unless he had to. The others coming over the fence would know instantly he knew they were there and they'd probably run a blitz attack. He would prefer to take most of them outside to keep his house from being damaged.
The first intruder rounded the corner and kept going slowly, cautiously, along the narrow path. This was the protected rose garden and the foliage was thorny, making sure the enemy stayed to the ribbon of a pathway. The corners were tight deliberately. The second gunman followed. The first was almost to the next corner when the third rounded the corner. Mariko stepped out of the shadows, smooth and efficient. She reached almost delicately, caught the man's head in the classic kill hold and wrenched, gently lowering the body to the pathway and disappearing in the shadows as the second man rounded the corner.
She slipped behind the second man, killing him, and then the third. She left them where they lay and was once again in the mouth of the tunnel.
"Two pathways over, near the trellis on the outside of the house," Emilio said. "Four more moving slow. They don't like the thorny branches pulling at them." There was a slight snicker in his voice.
Roses had been a good idea, even though Ricco had to make certain they didn't freeze and were protected through the harsh winter months. He watched from the side of the window frame as Mariko slipped back into the shadows. It was strange. He hadn't known her that long, but from the moment their shadows had connected, he felt as if he couldn't be without her.
Over the years, he had honed himself into the best warrior possible. He might be injured, but that didn't matter; when he needed his body to kick into high gear, every muscle was ready. His reflexes were fast and his hand-eye coordination extraordinary. He was a man fully confident in himself and his abilities, everything from killing a man to pleasuring a woman, yet now, with this woman, the one woman, he was hesitant and careful. She felt elusive to him, always ready to slip away.
Mariko emerged, just for one moment, at the mouth of a shadow just behind the four men. That momentary flash of her in the T-shirt that was long enough to be a dress on her, hair falling around her face, tumbling to her shoulders as if they'd just spent hours making love, her skin flawless and her mouth generous, had his body reacting, even in the midst of the danger. Maybe the danger contributed. He thought it was sexy how she could look so delicately beautiful when he knew she was so deadly.
She flowed like the wind, like water moving over rocks, as she came up behind the last man. The intruder didn't get the chance to turn the corner or even step off the path. He was a big man and she looked fragile in comparison. Ricco watched through the scope, his heart pounding in his throat as she leapt into the air and took the enemy down with her legs around his head, her hands already lethal before the man had a chance to know what hit him. She was gone fast, back into the shadows.
"Damn." Emilio's voice was pure admiration. "That woman is hot."
Ricco had to agree. He couldn't fault his cousin for noticing but . . . "And she's off-limits. She's the one. I'm going to marry her." He had his eye to the scope, just waiting. She was going to be coming up behind the next man in line. She had to be exhausted, but he couldn't see one hint of that when she was working.
"Does she know that?"
"She does now. She can hear us," Ricco said. That was how crazy he was about her. How far gone. He hadn't even remembered she had an earpiece in. What any of them said, she could hear.
Emilio laughed. "You might clarify, Ricco. You've got guests knocking at your front door. It's rather hilarious. They're actually knocking. Seven of them. Seven more going into the Japanese garden, and you've got seven on the south side approaching the house. Step it up, woman."
There was no answer, or maybe there was. Mariko appeared behind the third man in line as the second one rounded the sharp corner of the maze. She caught his neck and wrenched, her hands slipping off, and then she was back in the tube to move into the next pathway behind the second and then first man in line. She'd taken out all seven attackers without a single incident. He didn't have to fire his weapon to alert the others they knew an attack was under way.
"Thank you, Mariko," Ricco said, steeling himself to let her go. "I want you to go over the wall and get clear. Three blocks down there's a garage with a car in it. Code is seven, six, two, four, five. That opens the door. Keys are hanging just inside the door. There's money stashed in the glove compartment. I want you to get out of here. When it's done, you can come back."
She stepped out of the shadows, looked straight up at him, shook her head, indicated she was going to the south side garden and stepped back into the shadows.
Emilio burst into laughter. "Rebellion. Ferraro men seem to have trouble controlling their women."
"Shut the fuck up. You're a Ferraro," Ricco was compelled to point out.
"But my father's Greco blood saved us."
Ricco strode down the wide hallway to the end, placed his palm on the wall so the panel slid open revealing the armory. He put the rifle in, closed it and took a shadow to the upper story of the southern wing of the house. She was there ahead of him. He cursed as he yanked another rifle from behind a panel that looked just like the rest of the walls. He had them all over the house.
"Slow down, Mariko. I need to get into position to cover you."
She was already in position behind the first of the seven men making their way to the back of his home. They were closer to the house, working their way through the maze, but having trouble with the various twists and turns. No roses on this side. He had planted dozens of flowering shrubs to make the maze thick and impenetrable. His enemies had to follow the paths if they were going to make it to his house.
He took up his position at the bank of windows. "In place." She still had not said a word. He brought her face up on the scope. She looked perfectly serene. She might have been drinking tea in the garden, not chasing killers around the property.
"Emilio, keep trying to find out about the others. I want to know the moment you h
ear if they're safe." Ricco was anxious about his family, he couldn't help it.
At his soft command, Mariko looked up at him through the window. He saw the compassion there. She understood about loss of family. She'd lost nearly everyone, and now her brother was in jeopardy. That was on him as well. Someone had kidnapped her brother to force her to kill Ricco. His family. Her family. What could he have done differently that horrible night so long ago? What should he have done?
Mariko was on the move, sliding into the shadows and emerging right behind the last man in line. She caught his head in her delicate hands and wrenched. He went down. The second man, having already rounded the corner, suddenly turned back. Emilio hissed a warning and she slipped into the shadows just as the attacker crouched beside his companion and took his pulse while he looked warily into the shrubs. Suddenly she was there, right behind him, wrenching his neck and dropping his body right over that of his friend.
The rest of the men turned back at a shouted command from the third man. He stuck his head around the corner and saw the two bodies lying there. They crowded in along the path, standing shoulder to shoulder, five of them when there was only room for three at the most, and that was pushing it. Three faced one way, two the other, and they sprayed the shrubs and shadows with bullets.
Heart in his throat, Ricco shot the three facing him, one at a time, squeezing the trigger in a controlled movement when he had never felt so out of control. "Tell me where she is, Emilio," he said. "Right now."
The three men fell while the other two turned toward the house, with what looked like a choreographed, slow-motion dance. Their heads went up, eyes found him, automatics spraying up the side of the house in an effort to get to him.
"At your front door, coming around on the run. Seven more, Ricco. Mariko, get into the house, get out of the gardens," Emilio warned.
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