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?"