Ronin's Return

by Elle James

  Costa nearly hit the side of one of the buildings making the turn, but he corrected the steering, missing the brick by a hair.

  Ahead, the boat with Isabella disappeared in the shadow of the bridge.

  Costa pushed the little boat as fast as it would go, slowly gaining on the other boat.

  By the time they passed beneath the bridge. Ronin could see Isabella clearly. She seemed to be tied to the boat railing, and she was tugging hard, trying to dislodge the railing or get out of whatever was tying her down.

  It was at that moment, one of the two men in the boat noticed they were being followed. He lifted is hand and pointed it at Costa.

  “He’s got a gun!” Ronin said. “Duck!” He didn’t wait for Costa to react, he placed his hand on top of the man’s head and shoved him down.

  Costa’s hand was still on the steering wheel as he went down, causing their boat to swerve sideways.

  Ronin yanked the throttle back in time to keep them from smashing into a wall.

  Gunfire echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings.

  “Keep low but drive,” Ronin commanded. “I have to get Isabella off that boat.”

  “Are you crazy? They’re shooting at us!” Costa shouted.

  “I don’t give a damn if they’re firing RPGs, we’re getting closer, and you’re going to drive or move the hell over and let me.”

  “I’ll drive,” Costa said, his voice shaking as badly as his hands. “Just make them stop shooting.”

  Ronin retrieved the rifle from where he’d flung it earlier, hunkered low and moved toward the front of the boat. If Costa could get him close enough… What? He’d shoot the man with the gun? What if he hit Isabella?

  He could throw himself in front of the man shooting at them, but that would just get him killed, and he’d be of no use rescuing Isabella, and Costa didn’t have the balls or training to do the job.

  Ronin wasn’t sure what his plan was, but he had to be ready when an opportunity presented itself.

  The shooter unloaded several more rounds, the bullets hitting the sides of buildings, the boat and the windshield, shattering the glass.

  Costa had to look around the shattered windshield to see where they were going. Thankfully, he was closing the distance between the two boats.

  If he got close enough, Ronin might have a chance to shoot the gunman without hitting Isabella.

  He lifted his head enough to see over the bow.

  The gunman fired three rounds, the first going wide, the second hitting the windshield behind Ronin and the third splintering the railing an inch away from Ronin’s ear. He ducked lower.

  Suddenly, the shooting stopped.

  Ronin raised his head.

  The gunman had dropped the clip from his handgun and was fumbling in his pocket, presumably for another.

  Opportunity had just presented itself.

  “Steady!” he shouted to Costa, as he rose in position, rested the rifle against his shoulder and sighted in on the man who’d been shooting at him.

  Isabella must have seen what he was doing and flattened herself against the side of the boat, giving him as much clearance as possible.

  As the man shoved the next magazine into the handle of his pistol, Ronin pulled the trigger.

  The shooter stood for a second longer as if frozen, and then slumped sideways, falling into the boat driver.

  The boat swerved sharply toward a wall. At the last minute, the driver corrected, but it was too late.

  The boat listed sideways and turned over in the inky canal water with Isabella tied to the rail.

  14

  Isabella knew she was in trouble when the boat rose up on its side and flipped upside down. She only had seconds to haul in a deep breath and hold on to keep from breaking her wrists, before she was plunged into the fetid waters of the Venetian canal.

  She fought with renewed purpose to break free of the rail or the cuffs, to no avail. If she couldn’t get out of it the cuff while high and dry, her chances of getting free now were even slimmer in the dark, cold water.

  Hoping the cool water would shrink her hands enough to slip them through the cuffs, Isabella pulled but soon gave up. The cuffs had been tightened so much she couldn’t get them over her hands. Her only hope was to reach a pocket of air and hold on until Ronin could rescue her.

  Since she was close to the rail, she couldn’t get to the center of the boat which would be the highest point in the water and might possibly contain a bubble of air trapped when the boat flipped.

  She stretched her neck, praying she could reach any pocket of air. Her lungs burned with the effort to hold her breath, the need to suck in more overpowered her. At that moment, her forehead came up into an air pocket. She tipped her head back enough for her nose to clear the water. She released the air she’d held in her lungs for what felt like forever through her mouth and inhaled through her nose. She could barely fill her lungs with the boat tilted and sinking deeper.

  She tipped back her head again. The bubble had shifted and she couldn’t find it. She moved around frantically searching for it or another pocket of life-giving air, her heavy dress hampering her efforts and drawing on her energy to fight its strangle-hold on her body.

  Soon, she had no more air nor strength. She stopped fighting and drifted toward the silty bottom of the canal.

  So, this was how she would die. Though she’d done her best in Syria and freed a lot of women, she hadn’t accomplished all she’d wanted in her lifetime. Regrets welled up inside her as she floated in the darkness, her lungs burning from the need to release old air and draw in new. She wished she could have become a mother, her own mother having taught her how to love unconditionally and with all her heart. And her father…he would be devastated upon learning of her death and would probably die of a broken heart. But most of all, Isabella regretted she hadn’t told Ronin she loved him. The man was everything she could have wanted in a partner for life. He was funny, kind and incredibly strong. He didn’t want to dominate her but to protect her and be with her for as long as they had together. Which happened to be not that very long.

  She prayed he would go on with his life, meet another woman and have children. He would make a good father; he’d be just and fair. And he’d love his children deeply and without reserve. He was just that kind of man.

  If she got out of the canal with her life, she’d walk away from being Isabella Pisano in a heartbeat if it meant being with Ronin. Sure, she’d have to learn to get by on a lot less and probably get a job. Work never hurt anyone. Look at her father. He’d worked all his life to build a corporation that would provide for himself, his family and many more families.

  If only she could be so successful.

  Thoughts drifted through her mind as water filled her lungs. Death wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d imagined. She relaxed and let it take her.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Ronin yelled.

  Costa raced the boat up to the capsized one and yanked back the throttle. The craft drifted closer, slowing considerably.

  Before they even came to a complete stop, Ronin shrugged out of his costume jacket and dove into the water near to where Isabella had gone under. He was careful not to dive too deeply, not knowing what he’d find in the canal, or how shallow it might be.

  Night and the murky water hampered his effort to find the only woman he’d ever loved. He couldn’t see anything. All he could do was feel his way.

  He found the back of the boat, the propeller and the ladder. Running his hand along the corner, he worked his way around to the side.

  The water exploded in front of him as the boat driver surfaced, gasping for life-giving air. When he saw Ronin, he lunged toward him, hefted himself out of the water and came down on Ronin’s head with the force of a water buffalo.

  Ronin went under without fighting, grabbed the man’s waistband and took him down him, dragging him toward the bottom.

  The man kicked and fought, desperate to get back up to breathe.

/>   Ronin didn’t let him. Instead, he twisted the man around and climbed up his back, pressing his hands on the guy’s shoulder to keep him under.

  The driver struggled, swinging his arms, his legs and twisting his body.

  Ronin locked his arm around the man’s neck and held tight. In his Navy SEAL BUD/S training, he’d been the trainee who could hold his breath the longest. But he didn’t have time to outlast the driver. He needed to get on with the business of saving Isabella before she drowned. With a quick twist, he snapped the guy’s neck and pushed him away.

  After surfacing quickly for air, Ronin continued his search for Isabella.

  It didn’t take long to find her. He ran into her dress first and followed the hem up to her waist and finally her face. She was so still. God, was he too late?

  She’d been tied to the railing when he last saw her.

  Running his hand down her arm, he came across what was holding her to the rail. Handcuffs—one cuff clamped to the rail, the other around Isabella’s wrist.

  Without anything to break the chain, the cuffs or the rail, he could do nothing to bring Isabella to the surface.

  Ronin kicked free of her and surfaced.

  Costa was at the edge of the boat he’d been driving about to dive into the water.

  “Wait!” Ronin called out. “Throw me my costume waistcoat.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it!” Ronin yelled.

  Costa retrieve the garment and leaned over the side of the boat, handing it to Ronin.

  Ronin dug in the pocket and sent up a prayer of thanks. The knife he’d stashed earlier was still there. He dove down and hacked at the chain between the two cuffs.

  The more he hacked, the longer it took, and the more desperate he became. Finally, the links broke. Isabella was free.

  He hooked his arm over her shoulder, across her chest and under her opposite arm and swam to the surface.

  “You found her,” Costa exclaimed.

  “Yeah, but she’s not breathing.” With all of his strength, he dragged her to the nearest landing and pulled her up onto the surface. Her dress was heavy, making the process ten times more difficult.

  Rolling her to her side, he used the knife to cut the strings cinching her corset. He then used his finger to open her mouth.

  Canal water trickled from beneath her lips.

  Then he laid her on her back, pinched her nose with his fingers, covered her mouth with his and filled her lungs with air, watching to see that her chest rose with each breath. Four breaths, and he paused to check for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  He moved his hands to her chest and began compressions. “Come on, Bella. You can’t quit on me now. Pisanos are stubborn. They aren’t quitters.” He pumped a few more times and bent to fill her lungs with air again.

  “Breathe, Isabella,” he said into her ear. Again, he checked for a pulse. Was that a nudge against his fingertips? “Come on, Isabella. Live. I can’t do this life without you.”

  He forced more air into her lungs and checked her pulse. It was there and beating stronger.

  Suddenly, she coughed and gasped, sucking in a ragged breath.

  Her eyes opened, the streetlight hanging over the landing shined light on her face. She smiled and raised a weak hand to his cheek. “You found me.”

  And then she passed out.

  A siren blared nearby, growing louder as a police boat rounded the corner and came to a halt.

  In halting Italian, Ronin explained what happened.

  The police called for assistance and an ambulance boat arrived soon after.

  Within moments, they had Isabella loaded on a backboard, wrapped in warming blankets and stowed in the boat.

  Ronin started to step into the boat with her, but the medic who spoke English held up his hand. “Only family members are allowed to ride with the patient.”

  “Does a fiancé count?” he asked. No way would they leave without him. He’d hang on to the outside of the boat if he had to, but Isabella wasn’t going anywhere without him.

  The man said something to his partner in Italian. He turned back to Ronin and shrugged. “You can come.”

  “What about me?” Niccolo stood on the landing, holding the line for the borrowed boat.

  “Get back to the Pisano estate,” Ronin said. “Let Andre know what’s going on. Isabella’s father will be beside himself when he wakes.”

  Costa nodded and sighed. “Thank you for saving Signorina Isabella. She means the world to her father.”

  And to me, Ronin thought.

  The ambulance boat ran with the lights flashing and the siren blaring all the way to the main landing where Isabella was transferred from the boat to a wheeled ambulance.

  Ronin wasn’t allowed to ride in the back with her, but he rode shotgun with the driver, ending up at the same hospital Mr. Pisano had been to earlier that same day.

  The medics disappeared inside with Isabella, giving Ronin heart palpitations until he was allowed to go back and be with her.

  She was hooked up to a heart monitor, cannula for oxygen and an IV. They’d stripped her of the costume, replacing her clothes with a hospital gown.

  “I bet that dress gave them hell,” he murmured.

  A nurse adjusted the dials on the monitors and turned to smile at him. “Signorina Pisano has been given a sedative. She might not wake until morning.”

  “I can stay?” he asked.

  “Si.” The nurse showed him how to use the call button and told him she’d be on duty until early the next day.

  As soon as the woman left, Ronin lifted Isabella’s hand and pressed it to his lips, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He’d come so close to losing her. A tear found its way out of his eye and down his cheek.

  Isabella blinked and squinted up at him. “Am I alive, or are you my angel?”

  He laughed and brushed the moisture form his cheek. “Bella, I’m no angel.”

  “Then I’m alive.” She sighed, closed her eyes again and slept.

  Ronin settled in a chair beside her bed and watched her, afraid that if he didn’t, something would happen. She might slip away. He knew it was ridiculous, and the monitors would alert him and the nurses, but having almost lost her once…

  An hour after he arrived, a knock sounded on the door, and Andre stuck his head through. “How is the signorina?”

  Ronin stood and stretched. “Resting.” He frowned. “Who’s keeping an eye on Mr. Pisano?”

  “When Lorenzo and Matteo heard what happened to Signorina Isabella, they cleared the guests from the house and helped Signor Costa and the police clear out the two men you’d left tied up in one of the sitting rooms.”

  “And Amina?”

  “We called a doctor to give her a sedative. She confessed she’d been threatened by al-Jahashi’s men. If she didn’t let his gunmen into the house, they would kill her mother and sisters in Syria.”

  Ronin shook his head. “Does she realize how close Isabella came to dying?”

  Andre’s lips thinned into a straight line. “She won’t be working for Signor Pisano after tonight. Signor Costa fired her. Though remorseful, she didn’t quite understand that trading one life for another would solve nothing.”

  His fists clenching, Ronin drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Mr. Pisano?”

  “Is sleeping like a bambino. Now that he knows Isabella is safe. The effect of the painkillers has leveled out, and he’s resting peacefully. Lorenzo is standing guard until my return.”

  “What happened to the security detail on the back door?” Ronin asked.

  Andre’s jaw tightened. “The police found them in the canal. “Thanks for coming to check on Isabella, and for filling me in on what’s going on.

  “Security is on high-alert, and the estate is in lock-down,” Andre reported.

  “Good. Isabella will be glad to hear that.”

  “If you can see to Signorina Pisano’s safety, I need to get back and check on Signor Pisano.”<
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  “I won’t be leaving her side for even a moment,” Ronin assured the butler. “Tell me, Andre, you’re not just a butler, are you?”

  The man squared his shoulders, coming to attention. “No, sir. My mother was Italian, my father a member of the British Army. I grew up in England and joined the Army straight out of school. I’m a former member of the British Special Air Service.”

  Ronin smiled. “I should have known.” He held out his hand to the man highly trained in special ops. “I’ve worked with a few of the SAS. They were good men. We’ll have to talk when we’re not saving the world one Pisano at a time.”

  Andre nodded then shot a glance at Isabella. “I’ll be at the Pisano estate if you need me.”

  After Andre left, Ronin had more time to think about what had occurred. One thing was clear, al-Jahashi’s thugs were as ruthless in Venice as they were in Syria. The ISIS leader had to be stopped.

  A couple hours later, Isabella stirred, opened her eyes and asked in a hoarse voice, “What happened to my dress?”

  Ronin had been pacing the floor, afraid to get too comfortable and fall asleep. As far as he was concerned, as long as al-Jahashi had a price on her head, Isabella was still in danger.

  He crossed to her bedside and lifted her hand. “They cut you out of it.”

  “Good,” she croaked. “I’ll never wear another.”

  Ronin chuckled. “If you want to wear pants to our wedding, I have no problem with that.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “If you want to show up in your underwear, it’s okay with me. If you want to come naked, I’m on board.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Isabella smiled and winced, her eyes closing. “On board. That reminds me…what happened? Seems you were aiming a rifle at the boat I was in.” She opened her eyes. “By the way, where did you get a rifle?”

  Ronin filled her in on all that had happened since she’d gone upstairs to rescue her father. From the two guys who’d jumped him to hacking her free of the boat and performing CPR, he spilled the details of their evening. “And you thought Carnival would be boring,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Is that why I feel like I was run over by a truck?” she asked.