He hit the stairway so fast that he nearly flipped over the bannister. It hit him hard in the belly, doubling him in half. His head went down toward the floors below, the movement drawing the gunman's attention. The attacker fired several rounds rapidly but the stairwell was lit by bright lights, allowing the stairs themselves to cast shadows.
Stefano flung himself toward one, leaping over the rail, aimed right at it. He hit feetfirst and slid on his knees before swinging around onto his butt. The hitman sprayed bullets through the shadows, up and down and across. Stefano went down to his belly, still moving fast, the sensations horrifying, as if his chest were flying apart and his legs and arms hadn't caught up with him. He'd never been in a tube that moved so fast.
Bullets hit all around him, two kissed his arm and shoulder. He had to do something fast. The shadow curved up the wall behind the gunman. He followed it to the end, leapt out, tackling the man, knocking him down the stairs, kicking the gun from his hand as he did so.
He kicked, first the man's unprotected head and then his throat, following as the body tumbled, not giving him a chance to recover. In a desperate attempt to save himself, the assassin slammed a knife into the stairs to stop his body from rolling farther down them.
He tried to jerk the blade from the metal to attack Stefano with it, but he was already on him, catching him in an arm lock around his head and applying steady pressure. The attacker drummed his heels into the stairs, trying to push himself up. He managed to get the blade free but was already beginning to lose consciousness. The moment he slumped, Stefano transferred his grip and wrenched, breaking the neck.
Dropping the body onto the stairs, he raced back up to the floor where he'd left Demetrio. As he shoved open the door, he saw the body of the gunman sprawled out with the same doctor that the attacker had used as a shield leaning over him. Demetrio flashed past him, running toward Vittorio's room just as two shots rang out. Stefano took off after him.
For a moment Demetrio blocked his way, checking the room first before stepping aside. The body of a woman lay just inside the door to the hospital room, two gunshots to her head. A gun lay inches from her fingers. Stefano glanced down at her, his heart pounding as he stepped over her to peer into the room. Francesca sat next to Vittorio on the bed. Vittorio had his arm around her. His eyes met Stefano's over her head.
"She's good," he assured. "We're both good."
"Who got her?" Stefano asked.
"We both did," Drago said. "Vittorio was fast. Too fast for me to tell him I'd already pulled the trigger. You're bleeding. You okay?"
Francesca was off the bed in a flash, rushing to his side. Stefano put his arm around her and pulled her under his shoulder, sheltering her against his heart. "I'm good, baby. Three dead and none of them ours. Ricco sent a warning. Has anyone heard from him?"
"He's not picking up. Neither is Emilio or Enzo," Vittorio said.
Francesca was fussing with his arm. "You need to get this looked at."
"The cops are here," Demetrio announced.
"I've called Vinci," Stefano said. "Wait for him before you make any statements. The press is going to be all over this. They'll make it out to be a war to take over someone's territory. They portray us as criminals every chance they get. The family should brace for the possibility of being investigated."
He wanted to get to his brothers and Emme, but he couldn't leave without talking to the cops. His siblings weren't answering their phones. He was going to have to get them to have another code to let the family know each was alive and well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Exactly why were you crawling out the window?" Amo asked Nicoletta. His foster daughter hadn't said more than a couple of words since Vittorio had been hospitalized. Through breakfast and now sitting in Lucia's Treasures with his beloved wife and Emmanuelle Ferraro, he gave the teenager his sternest look. "You weren't thinking of taking off, were you?"
Lucia patted his arm. "Maybe we should just drop it, Amo. She's had a terrible night and still hasn't gone to bed." She spoke in her sweetest, most beguiling tone.
Emmanuelle could see why men tumbled at Lucia's feet. She was genuine, too. That sweetness, the caring she had for everyone around her, was the reason the Ferraro family had chosen Lucia and Amo Fausti as Nicoletta's foster parents. The teenager needed unconditional love. She needed to feel it, experience it, and know that it was still in the world and she was worthy of it. Already Nicoletta was under Lucia's spell. How could she not be? Everyone was.
Amo shook his head, a small smile on his face, clearly remembering the times she tried to divert him from chastising their children. "Always the same, my sweet Lucia. Nicoletta, please answer my question."
Nicoletta glanced at Emmanuelle and then ducked her head. "I've been worried since the truck nearly hit me that some very bad people might have found me. They would hurt you and I don't want that to happen."
"Thank you," Amo acknowledged. "That was very brave of you to tell me the truth. Lucia and I prefer that you stay with us no matter what, whether these people have found you or not. We have the Ferraros to look after us. Your job is to learn as much as you can and be a teenager. Let us worry about whether or not we're in danger."
Nicoletta glanced at Emmanuelle with despair in her eyes. There was no going back from what she'd been through. Yes, this couple had experienced terrible heartache and tragedy with the loss of both children, one to cancer, one murdered, but Nicoletta had been given to three step-uncles living life in one of the bloodiest gangs in New York. She'd been innocent and happy until her mother and stepfather had died in a car accident. That all changed abruptly and her life had been a nightmare until a social worker had appealed to the New York Ferraro family.
Nicoletta nodded her head, again not looking Amo in the eye. Emmanuelle wanted to put her arms around the girl and hold her, but she knew she'd be rejected. Nicoletta didn't allow anyone close to her. Around the Ferraros, she was especially quiet and refused to look at them most of the time. Emmanuelle realized it had everything to do with the girl's past and how she was rescued. They knew. All the Ferraros knew what had happened to her. There was no getting away from it, not when she was guarded around the clock by the only people in town who knew her past. Each time Nicoletta looked at them, she felt humiliated.
She'd been unconscious when Stefano and Taviano had brought her back through the shadow tube. She woke on a private jet heading to Chicago. She'd been terrified after witnessing them kill her uncles. Lucia and Amo had gone a long way toward helping with that, but Nicoletta avoided the Ferraros whenever she could.
Emme's bodyguard, Enrica Gallo, sister to Emilio and Enzo, stirred, just enough to warn Emmanuelle that someone was about to enter the store. Emmanuelle moved slightly to put herself in the shadows. She wore the same pin-striped suit her brothers wore--the signature suit of the Ferraro family. The shadows made it difficult for anyone to spot her immediately.
When she moved, she noticed Nicoletta's gaze flick to her, then to the bodyguard and then toward the door. She was extremely observant. The slightest movement drew her attention. The teen took the three steps necessary to put her body in front of Lucia's. At the same time, she reached down to straighten a wide gold-chain belt. It was heavy and could easily be used as a weapon.
It was too bad the girl hadn't been trained in riding the shadows from the time she was a toddler. She had no idea how special she was or the gifts given to her at birth. She had amazing instincts. Emmanuelle was going to have to ask Stefano about training her. At least in self-defense, but she would make a good rider. It would be a risk to train her, but they'd already risked so much just rescuing her.
The door opened and Signora Agnese Moretti stumbled into the shop, clutching her bag to her chest, looking through the thick glasses she wore, her gaze resting on Nicoletta and then Lucia and Amo. Her mouth pursed and then firmed. She banged the door closed and marched up to Lucia.
"I've heard the most outrageous thing and I've come
to you so you can tell me this rumor isn't true. I heard"--she glared at Nicoletta--"that your wild daughter has taken a job at Theresa Vitale's flower shop where she will be exposed to that hooligan Bruno. This can't be true. Surely you would never give your permission for such a thing."
Nicoletta turned bright red and her chin went up. Combat mode. Emmanuelle wanted to smile. Signora Moretti, as a rule, ruffled just about everyone's feathers, but she had a heart of gold.
"We thought it would be good for her, cara," Lucia said softly, her tone, as always, sweet. This time there was a hint of placating. "All those flowers. Bright and cheerful. Working here part-time and there part-time, she'll come to know the community members so much faster. With you as her tutor, she'll catch up fast. She's so bright, you said so yourself--that she was brilliant."
"Well now," Signora Moretti hedged. "I didn't say brilliant."
"You did, Agnese. You know you did. You told Amo and me that she was a genius and would have no problems catching up, that you might be struggling to stay in front of her." Lucia sounded very earnest and innocent. It was all Emmanuelle could do not to laugh.
Nicoletta's eyes widened. She didn't call attention to Emmanuelle by looking at her, but she clearly wanted to. The things Signora Moretti had said about her clearly shocked her.
Signora Moretti made several faces at Lucia in a desperate attempt to quiet her.
"Are you okay, cara? Here, sit down." Lucia offered one of the plush chairs, patting the back of it. "Do you have seizures?"
Anyone else would be blasted for asking such a question, but Lucia was just too sweet and innocent for anyone to think she was deliberately teasing them.
Nicoletta turned her face away from the two older women, struggling not to smile. Emmanuelle decided to take pity on Lucia and Agnese. She moved slightly, stepping just out of the shadow. Signora Moretti spun around, her eyes going wide with shock.
"Emmanuelle! Seriously. I've told you and your brothers to stop doing that. You could give an old lady a heart attack." Dramatically she pressed her hand over her heart.
"You aren't that old," Lucia pointed out. "Amo and I have ten years on you at least."
Agnese drew herself up to her full height. "I taught school. All those Ferraro boys. And Emme. That alone added a good ten years to my age." She pretended to shudder. "Just what interest does your family have with this girl?" she demanded of Emmanuelle.
Nicoletta stiffened.
Emmanuelle shrugged. "Stefano knew her stepfather. The service, I think." She lied smoothly. It was the story they'd all agreed on. "You can talk to him." No one, not even Signora Moretti, would want to question Stefano about his personal business.
"She hasn't had schooling." Agnese changed tactics. "Totally neglected, I say."
Emmanuelle flashed her sweetest smile. "Fortunately, as you've pointed out several times, Nicoletta truly is a genius and she'll have no problem catching up. Didn't you tell me, Lucia, that Nicoletta had done one semester's worth of work in a couple of months?"
Amo coughed and turned away. Agnese glared. "I'm certain I didn't say such a thing several times. I don't believe in making children have enormous fat heads. Nicoletta could easily become vain with her intelligence and looks . . ." She trailed off, scowling. Clearly she hadn't meant to give that compliment, either. "Actually"--she recovered quickly, turning her sharp gaze on Emmanuelle--"I want to know about this woman Ricco showed up with the other morning. He's never brought a woman around. He was acting very much the way Stefano acted with Francesca. Although, after seeing all those pictures of him with the Lacey twins in the magazines, I can't imagine a decent woman taking him on."
Emmanuelle took a deep breath to keep from losing her temper with the older woman. Signora Moretti had a kind heart, but sometimes it was difficult to get past her mouth. Emme rarely allowed anyone to get away with putting a family member down.
Enrica cleared her throat, and Emmanuelle spun around to face the window. One of two men she had been keeping an eye on separated himself from his companion and started across the street toward the shop. His friend, trying to look inconspicuous, glanced down the street and then up at the roof of the building next to the one he lounged in front of.
Emmanuelle followed his gaze upward and caught the glint of something shiny. Her heart jerked hard. There were a lot of civilians. "Nicoletta, right now, take Lucia and Signora Moretti into the back of the shop. Enrica is going with you. Don't get near the windows or door until she gives you the go-ahead. I'll be behind you with Amo."
"I have no intention--"
"Agnese." Emmanuelle didn't have time to pull her punches. The man she hadn't taken her eyes from was almost to the sidewalk in front of the shop.
"No need to get snippy, Emme Ferraro," she snapped and pulled a small revolver from her purse. "I understand completely. Let's move." She sounded like a general rallying her troops.
It was all Emmanuelle could do not to roll her eyes. The last thing she needed was for Agnese to shoot someone. "Go," she said to Enrica.
"I protect you," Enrica said stubbornly.
Emmanuelle hissed her displeasure, but there was no time to argue. Fortunately, Nicoletta understood the urgency and grabbed Lucia's hand. "Go," she said to Signora Moretti and rushed Lucia and the other woman into the back room, Agnese holding the gun with surprising assurance.
Enrica flattened herself against the wall. Emmanuelle faded into the shadows, leaving Amo busy tidying up the shop. He glanced up as the customer walked in. The man was wearing a suit he didn't look comfortable in. He looked carefully around the store, spotted Enrica partially hidden behind a rack with scarfs hanging from it. She appeared very interested in them.
Amo smiled at the newcomer as he approached him. "May I help you? I'm Amo Fausti, the owner. You are?" He held out his hand.
The man hesitated, looking around him and then taking the extended hand. "Coop," he said gruffly, clearly still looking for the others.
"Looking for something for your wife?" Amo persisted.
Coop shook his head, frowned and then shrugged. "Girlfriend. Shop's a little out of my expertise."
Emmanuelle shifted just enough to allow him to see her. Coop stiffened. He was caught between Emmanuelle and Enrica very neatly. Amo had stepped well out of his reach, pretending to examine jewelry in a case.
"These pieces are all one of a kind," Amo said, the polite salesman.
Coop didn't bother to pretend anymore. He abruptly swung on his heel, cursing, and hurried from the shop. Emmanuelle, keeping back from the window to prevent a marksman from getting a shot at her, watched as a car with four men inside parked across the street.
"We've got to go now," she said. "Don't bother to lock up, Amo. Enrica, check the alley, make sure it's clear. If not, keep the others inside. I'll clear it for us. Amo, hurry. Right. Now."
Enrica pushed past Amo, disappearing into the back room. Emmanuelle brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the front door. As she did so, her phone vibrated. Ricco's code for the family under attack. It had to be going on simultaneously. She sent up a little prayer that her family members survived as she coded in she understood and was under attack as well.
"We've got at least two covering the alley," Enrica said. "Massive firepower. Might be one on the roof right next to the fire escape above the flower shop. I'll take the rear and keep anyone from coming in from the front. Good hunting."
Emmanuelle nodded and handed Nicoletta a weapon. "Amo? You armed?"
"I am now," he said and pulled a shotgun from behind the watercooler. Lucia gasped but he ignored her. "These thugs after you or our girl?"
"Don't know. Don't care," Emmanuelle said. "They don't get either of us." She had them all move as far back as they could when she opened the door. Mostly it was to keep them from seeing as she chose a shadow, one that led right up the side of the building and stretched to the roof. She would have to take out their marksman first. Two men with rifles. Four in a car. Two more on foot and at
least two plugging the back entrance. Whoever the enemy was, they were serious to bring that much manpower.
The pull of the shadow was strong, so much so that it felt as if she were coming apart, her insides flying out of her. She concentrated on seeing everything around her, no matter that she was moving fast. Two men were under cover near the Dumpsters toward the far end of the alley.
Between the attackers and Lucia's Treasures was Giordano's, the butcher shop. A van was parked in the alley unloading. She recognized the Saldi insignia and her heart nearly stopped beating and then began to pound. Could the Saldis be making a move on the Ferraros? The feud dated back centuries. The Saldis were an acknowledged crime family, indicted numerous times, but then the Ferraros were thought to be a crime family and they weren't. She couldn't think about that now. If the first group out on the street decided to attack the shop, they'd catch the Faustis and Signora Moretti in a squeeze. Enrica could only do so much.
Emmanuelle rode the shadow to the roof and spotted the marksman. He had set up shop at the very edge of the railing closest to the fire escape. He had his eye to the scope and kept checking the window. The shadow stopped just short of him. She had to be in the open for one moment before she could step to the next one. She would have to time it perfectly.
She waited until her body felt whole again right at the mouth of the tube, planning her moves so that she proceeded with absolute confidence and no hesitation. The marksman was good. He never took his eye from the scope, watching for her group to come out of the store. She worried for Enrica, who had to keep everyone from being impulsive and trying to leave immediately. Especially Signora Moretti. Who knew the woman carried a gun? She was always leaving her purse in stores. All that time, the high school teacher was carrying a lethal weapon. Emmanuelle would have to have Stefano talk to her. Half the time she forgot her purse all over town.
Emmanuelle took a breath, let it out, stepped decisively out of the shadow, took the three steps to the next one and was in it just as the marksman turned his head, sensing movement. She stayed still, hidden inside the shadow, her heart pounding. She waited for it to settle and for him to put his eye to the scope once again.