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.
Mariko slipped along the shadows while the sound of gunfire reverberated in her ears. It seemed as if the intruders had forgotten there might be someone in the gardens with them, instead concentrating all firepower on getting Ricco. Bullets tore up the side of the house, but he’d constructed his home with just such an attack in mind and nothing penetrated.
He calmly shot two more times, not even flinching or hesitating while they adjusted their weapons to hit the window he was framed so perfectly in. Mariko wanted to call out, to tell him to duck, to get out of there, but she remained silent, seeing the other men rushing around from the front of the house to the side garden. She was needed there whether Emilio and Ricco agreed. It was just that Ricco didn’t seem to have any regard for self-preservation. The two he’d shot went down as she studied the seven men rushing to help their fallen comrades.
Ricco turned toward those targets. They’d taken care of the seven on the north side and now on the south, but they had more. She was tired, and tired meant mistakes. If she wanted to live, and if she used her brain, she would ride a shadow straight to the car he had stashed in a garage and get clear as he’d insisted. She knew she wouldn’t do that.
She lived by a code. That code demanded she back up her fellow riders no matter how dire the situation. She wanted to think she was staying for that reason, but she knew better. She was staying for one man. Ricco Ferraro. She knew she would never leave him in a situation where he was under attack and could possibly be harmed.
He had declared to Emilio that he was going to marry her, but Ricco wasn’t the marrying kind. He was a playboy and there were all too many women willing to fall under his spell for as long as he would have them. The only women she could see that had survived more than one night were the Lacey twins, starlets of a popular sitcom. He had to have been joking with Emilio. At least he admired and respected her. That was genuine, she heard it in his voice just as there was truth when he said he was going to marry her–in the heat of the moment.
Movement caught her eye. Another attacker. This one crawled on his hands and knees, sometimes on his belly, using toes and fingers to drag himself along the ground beneath the plants and on the pathway. Weaving in and out slowly. Every now and then he’d look up at the window and then adjust his line of travel.
Ricco’s rifle barked twice and two men dropped. He was a damned good marksman. He disappeared from the window and a volley of shots rang out; the attackers that had come from the front were eager to join the battle. She kept her eyes on the man tracking Ricco. He moved quickly right after Ricco shot, and she realized that’s how he’d almost gotten into position. He timed the return fire and made his move. Ricco had no idea he was being stalked.
“Emilio, there’s a shooter near the small fountain. Can you spot him?” Mariko whispered.
There was silence and then the bodyguard spoke. “I can’t. Enzo? Can you pick him up?”
Her heart in her throat, she looked back toward the sniper. He was gone, disappearing into the dark of the maze. Swearing, she slipped out of the shadow and caught the next one with the intention of riding it closer to him. Bullets sprayed all around her, cutting up the leaves and branches.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ricco demanded. “Are they shooting at Mariko?”
“She exposed herself for a second,” Emilio said.
Ricco cursed, the mixture of Italian and English blistering her ears. “Stay in the shadows,” he hissed. “I mean it, Mariko. And get your ass into this house right now.” He stood and squeezed the trigger, dropping two more newcomers, and then he went to the floor as the remaining three returned fire, bullets slamming through the window and hitting the far wall behind him.
Mariko ignored the byplay between Ricco and Emilio. She had to find the sniper moving to set up on him. Ricco could take out the attackers so careless as to use the meager cover of the plants along the pathway. They were lazy and didn’t want to get off the path into the maze with its poking branches and thorns. But the sniper . . .
She chose another shadow and stepped into it. That split second of exposure was her undoing. Bullets tore into the shadows and ripped up the carefully planted foliage as she moved fast toward the mouth of the tube. She threw herself onto her belly, hands in front of her, toes ready to act as brakes.
The moment she was exposed, in between the shadows, the attackers saw her and opened fire, giving Ricco the opportunity to shoot two more. Instantly the others fired at him. It was a repeat of what had happened before. Six were down, one left. And the sniper.
She dug her toes into the shadows, sliding with her hands, trying to catch the ground so she didn’t tumble out onto the pathway. The sniper couldn’t know she was hunting him. Ricco wouldn’t stop until he got the last man. There were others approaching the house from the tea garden, but Emilio was watching their every move, and Emilio, Enzo and Ricco didn’t appear to fear the enemy entering the house.
Her hands burned from scraping them along the ground, but she managed to stop just inside the mouth of the tube. She took a breath and looked around her. Time slowed down for her. The sniper was in position in front of her, away from all shadows she could reach, but tucked into the foliage where, from above, Ricco and his bodyguards probably hadn’t spotted him.
Heart pounding, she drew herself up, assessing the situation. He was waiting for Ricco to show himself at the window. She knew, before she moved, before she spoke, that it was too late. The shooter outside had ceased firing. Ricco was already in position, and the sniper had him.
“Get down,” she warned, uncaring as she moved out of the shadow that the remaining shooter was already searching the shadows for a glimpse of her. She couldn’t let Ricco die. She just couldn’t. Her eyes were on him. Right there. Framed in the window. He looked invincible. A warrior of old. A samurai determined to stand his ground and defend his castle.
She was almost on the sniper when she heard the whisper of movement behind her. Simultaneously she heard Ricco’s voice. “Behind you.” Her heart dropped. She desperately wanted Ricco to save himself. He knew the sniper had him in his sights, but instead of dropping low, or flinging himself to the side, he stood there, unbending. Uncaring. Determined to save her. He squeezed the trigger and she heard the bullet hit its mark. The sniper fired as well and his bullet drove Ricco back out of the window and into the room where she couldn’t see him.
She was on the sniper, knee to his back, pinning him down, staying low so the remaining shooter couldn’t get a clear shot. If he sprayed the area he would hit his companion. The sniper tried to struggle, but it was too late; he was impaired by his own rifle as he brought it up thinking he could shoot her. He tried to twist his body, but her hands were already on his head. She wrenched. The crack was audible. She dropped him, and rolled into the shadows, feeling the familiar pull.
The last group of attackers had to have gained entrance to the house by now. The sense of urgency was great, but she couldn’t make a mistake. Ricco might still be alive. She had to stay numb, not think about him or his sacrifice. Standing there, waiting for the sniper to hit him so he could take the shot to save her. What if she’d tried to kill him, just on the off chance it would save her brother? A man like him. With his integrity?
Mariko felt the burn of tears, but she refused to give into emotion. She had a job to do and she was damn well going to do it. Locating the remaining shooter was the first step.
“Emilio.” She forced her voice to be calm, although it trembled. “Ricco was hit. Can you get to him?”
Silence answered her while she took a long look around the garden. The maze had done its job, keeping the attackers moving in single file along the paths. All of them had done so except for the sniper. She located the last shooter on the stones just a few feet from her. He was twisting back and forth, trying to see every shadow, while keeping an eye on the window. He stopped watching the window after a few precious minutes, certain Ricco was dead. She refused to even consider that he was dead. She couldn’t, or she wouldn’t be able to keep going.
The tiny earpiece buzzed.
“Ricco doesn’t kill so easy,” Emilio’s voice intoned in her ear. “Get in here.”
“I’m on my way.” She had one more task and then she’d be inside. Something in her settled at Emilio’s calm assurance. She had no idea how Ricco could have survived that shot, but if his bodyguard thought he was alive, she was going to think it, too. Hugging the knowledge to her that he might be alive, she stalked the last shooter, riding the smaller shadows to circle around behind him.
Her prey continually turned in circles, making it difficult to move on him. A shot rang out and the attacker dropped like stone to the ground, blood running from the side of his head. He nearly dropped at her feet. She glanced up to the window, her heart beating wildly. Ricco was there, framed like before, looking scary beautiful in warrior mode.
“Get the fuck into this house right now,” he ordered.
She didn’t even care that he swore at her. He was alive. Alive. She’d talk gently to him later about his language, but not now. Now she wanted to jump up and down with happiness–something completely out of character for her. Instead she acknowledged the order. Calmly. As if Ricco being alive was always a certainty. “On my way.”
“They’ve split into two factions, Ricco,” Emilio whispered into their ears. “Enzo is monitoring the gardens, but I think only those in the house are left alive. They’re carrying explosives in their backpacks. Two stopped to wire the walls in the great room.”
“I can come behind them and sweep up the explosives,” Mariko offered. “I have extensive training.”
Ricco’s voice was a hiss in her ear. “This house is lethal. I want you with me so I know you’re safe.”
She smiled at the impatience–and concern–in his voice. It was a new experience for her. She liked it–liked that she mattered to someone–especially liked that she mattered to Ricco Ferraro.
She rode the shadows up the side of the house straight to the shattered window, admiring how Ricco had designed his home to maximize shadows from top to bottom, just as he had the incredible gardens. He reached out, hooked her under her arms and dragged her inside, right up against his body. He held her close for several moments.
“You scared the hell out of me, Mariko,” he whispered, pulling back enough to look down into her eyes.
Her heart clenched in her chest. It was the way he looked at her–as if she were the only woman in his world. “You scared me.” She knew how he had survived. He was wearing a vest, but still, the sniper could have gone for a head shot. He’d taken a huge chance to save her.
“I’m too mean to die like this,” he said. His hand slid down to her elbow. “We have guests. We want to make them feel very welcome.” He slid his fingers down her arm even farther to find her fingers with his. It was an intimacy she didn’t expect and her heart turned over. He pushed the rifle into the cabinet in the wall, and waved his free hand toward the shelves. “Pick what you’re most comfortable with.”
There were numerous knives and smaller guns. There was a belt with several holsters and loops. She wrapped it around her waist and slid knives into the loops and the guns she’d chosen into the holsters. She chose extra magazines for the guns and pushed them into the loops.
“Emilio, keep trying Stefano and the others,” Ricco said as he chose his weapons.
“I’m on it, Ricco,” Emilio assured. “Enemies approaching the target zone,” he added. “Three of them.”
Ricco pulled down a screen and activated it. At once she could see three men with backpacks moving cautiously along the hallway leading to the kitchen. It was the narrowest of all the hallways in Ricco’s spacious home, allowing the attackers to come at them two strong rather than single file, although these men were moving in single file.
Other cameras showed video of groups of men spreading out throughout the lower story. Without warning, a panel at the front of the kitchen, just to the right of the door, slid open. Simultaneously, one behind the attackers did the same. Guns slid out ahead and behind them, trapping the three men in the hall. There was nowhere to go and as the one in front shouted a warning, turning slightly to try to get away, both guns spat bullets. Within moments the three men were lying dead on the floor of the hallway and the guns retracted and slid behind the panels.
“Ricco.” She didn’t know what else to say. He’d planned for this. He had known sooner or later someone would be coming after him.
“We’re good,” he assured. He indicated the library. “We’re heading there.”
There was a long verandah wrapping around the circular part of the room with glass doors leading out to the cool porch so one could sit outside and read when they desired. The library took up both stories, the walls lined with books. Ladders with safety rails ran along tracks, allowing anyone to move along the long shelves at any level and pick their book. She loved his library.
They chose a shadow right beside the window, one that went up to the roof. He kept his hand in hers, as if that contact between them was very important to him. From the roof, they caught another shadow that took them to the verandah on the bottom floor of the library. Ricco leaned into her and brushed his mouth over hers. He indicated she move into the left side where there was a small, darker area on the porch like a little alcove. There was one on the right side as well. He opened the glass doors invitingly. She realized this was also built with defense in mind. She’d been taught, the same as him, that every offense was a good defense, and every defense was a good offense. He’d planned. It occurred to her that no matter what, Ricco Ferraro would protect his family–and he was good at it.
“They’re almost to you,” Emilio warned. “You have four coming at you, heavily armed with automatic weapons. They have the backpacks so I imagine they also have explosives. They’re probably going to try to wire the room to take down the house.”
“Wait until I move and pick your targets,” Ricco cautioned her.
She nodded, breathing evenly. The relief and elation that he was alive and unharmed was overwhelming. In such a short time, she realized she was already invested in him. It didn’t matter if he felt the same back–and she wasn’t silly enough to think that he did. He was a playboy. He liked women. Multiple women. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have him while they were together. The time would be short, and if she lived through finding her brother, she would be the one with the broken heart, but for her, it would be worth it. She’d never expected to ever feel for a man the way she did for Ricco.
“Don’t come out of the alcove until you’ve locked on and can take them both down. Two shots, one after the other.”
She sent him a small smile. “I’m good with this, Ricco. I’m a good shot.”
He nodded. She liked that he was a little anxious on her behalf, but she was an excellent shot. The doors of the library opened and the four intruders came in, sweeping the room to make certain it was empty. They hurried to the walls to find the supports for the house. Immediately they eased their backpacks from their shoulders and knelt to get to work.
Ricco and Mariko stepped out of the alcoves. She heard the bark of his gun even as she squeezed the trigger twice. Her targets went down and she switched her attention immediately to his. She should have known he wouldn’t miss. She started toward the dead bodies and their backpacks.
“Leave it. We should clear the house first. We didn’t give them enough time to do anything but set their packs on the floor.”
The idea of leaving explosives around disturbed her, but he was right. They weren’t going off by themselves. Ricco was already checking all four men, making certain each shot was a kill shot. He pulled down a screen in the corner of the room nearest the verandah. She could see the little squares indicating cameras.
Five attackers were inside the great room, setting up their explosives on the massive columns. One of them coughed. The room looked a little smoky. Metal shields on the windows prevented light from entering, and suddenly all the lights went out, leaving the room in darkness. The one man coughed again. Someone flashed a light on and she could see the smoke was thick now. Much thicker than it had been a few moments earlier.
One of the men tumbled over and lay gasping. His friend went to him and tried to drag him toward the door. He coughed, let go of his fallen companion and tried to make it to the door. He couldn’t find the right direction in the murky darkness. A third and fourth man fell. The last one grabbed his throat and tried to cover his mouth at the same time. He gasped and went down, first to his knees and then to the floor.
“Taviano is here,” Emilio reported.
For a moment Ricco sagged with relief at the knowledge that his brother was alive. Mariko moved close to him and he locked his arm around her waist, as if she gave him strength. “Tell him to go to the security room. The house is lethal right now. Gas in the great room. Guns activated. Tell him . . . I’m glad he’s alive.”
“He’s reporting Giovanni and Emme both were shot. Emme has a shattered shoulder and Gee has multiple wounds in his leg. He’s being prepped for surgery. Stefano checked in with them. He, Francesca and Vittorio are good. Cosimo and Tomas took major hits. They were alive the last time he heard news, taken to the hospital, both in very bad shape. We don’t know their status at this time.”
“Eloisa? Phillip?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Ricco indicated they move forward toward the pool room where the last two attackers were busy setting up their explosives. He held her hand as they rode the shadow into the room. Fifteen seconds later, solid steel plates dropped down over the windows. Both men jumped to their feet and stared at the steel.
Ricco took one. Mariko took the other. She was on him immediately, not giving him time to trigger the explosives they already had wired and ready to blow. The moment her hands were on his head, he slammed it backward, trying to dislodge her, his superior weight carrying them six or seven steps back. His elbow crashed into her ribs in another attempt to knock her from him. She leapt onto his back, her legs circling him like a vise.
Her hands never left his head, not even to protect herself when he smashed her back into the wall. She let out her breath and wrenched, snapping his neck, ending his desperate attempt to survive.
Ricco was there instantly, yanking up the T-shirt that covered her body. “Did he break your ribs? Can you breathe?”
She was very aware she wore only her red bra and lace panties beneath the T-shirt. “I’m fine. He was strong. Is it over?”
He touched the fading marks on her skin from the ropes, lowered the tee and took her hands, turning them over to inspect her palms and the pads of her fingers where she’d taken skin off trying to brake in the gardens.
“All quiet. We’ve got the cameras sweeping the grounds and house,” Emilio said. “Ricco, you took a hit. How bad?”
Ricco kissed the center of her palm and then her fingertips. “Bruising only. My chest feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it. Call Sal in. I want them to do the cleanup here and maybe he and his crew can find some clues to who is doing this.”
Her heart stuttered a little at the feel of his lips brushing so gently over her torn skin.
Ricco looked at Mariko. “I’m fairly certain I know, but we need proof.”
She knew, too. She’d brought this down on the Ferraro family. “I’m so sorry,” she said, meaning it. Very slowly she removed her hands from his. His touch was making it difficult to think. “I had no idea when I came here that this would happen.”
“The council threatened me years ago,” he pointed out. “This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. With what happened.”
She lifted her chin. “If you’re correct and I’m a Tanaka, then this is my fight. They allowed their sons to get away with killing my family. They made me believe I hurt my brother when one of their sons did it. I’m with you all the way.”
