Shadow Reaper (A Shadow Riders Novel Book 2)

“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.

She came out directly behind him and caught his head, and using the move she’d been perfecting since she was a child, she wrenched, breaking his neck. She left him there, riding the shadow to the back entrance to Lucia’s Treasures. Using a low whistle to signal Enrica she was back and all was clear for them to come out, she studied the van partially blocking the alley about halfway to their destination. There was movement there as someone unloaded large quarters of beef and carried them into the butcher shop.

Emmanuelle knew she faced at least six assailants. They were waiting at the front and back of the alley, boxing them in. The street entrance would be the most dangerous because she had no way to get to the sniper they had on the roof across the street from Lucia’s Treasures. That meant taking her group all the way down the alley past the Saldis’ van. If the crime family had initiated this attack, that meant the van could hold more shooters.

Signora Moretti pushed close to her. “I’m a very good shot,” she whispered. “I might act a doddering fool, but I’m not. No one is going to hurt you or anyone else while I’m around.”

Emmanuelle loved her in that moment. She loved her home and every single person in the Ferraro territory because all of them would back her family and one another. They might have their idiosyncrasies but when push came to shove, they stood with one another. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks, Signora Moretti, I think we’re going to head down the alley toward the Saldis’ van. We need to keep that van between the entrance and us at all times. There are more of the shooters at the entrance. They’re working their way down the alley toward us.”

She would have to get to the van first and clear it. If the Saldis were part of the attack, she’d confirm with her family and then try to kill anyone waiting to get them. “Enrica, keep everyone together, quiet, and moving toward the van. I’ll get ahead and see if I can figure out just where the enemy is.”

She didn’t wait. They were running out of time. Emmanuelle stepped back into the deeper shadow that ran along the side of the building. At once the pull was there, a strong magnet dragging her into the tube, swallowing her arms and legs and torso. The tube was extremely powerful and she was moving fast. She caught sight of two gunmen making their way along the opposite side of the building, trying to angle around the van to see the back entrance of Lucia’s Treasures.

She had to step out of the tube to keep from moving past the van, and that meant exposing herself to the two gunmen just for a moment. She took a breath and dove for the shadow leading under the van. Gunfire erupted. Bullets hit all around, skipping off the pavement, splintering brick and stone. She felt the bite and sting along her left leg and arm. She rolled, desperate to get away from the bullets.

Heavy boots hit asphalt. Valentino Saldi burst from the back door of the butcher shop, his gun roaring as he did so, providing covering fire for Emmanuelle. He reached down and yanked her to her feet, and then thrust her behind him. She cried out as a bullet slammed into her left shoulder, driving her away from Val and back against the wall. She nearly blacked out from the agonizing pain. Her arm was useless. There was no lifting it or fighting with it. No breaking necks. She swore, trying not to shed the tears swimming in her eyes. She’d never felt anything like that pain.

Val kept his body between hers and the gunmen. So much for thinking he was involved. He returned fire, pinning the two men down. She heard running footsteps as the other gunmen broke away from the entrance to the alley, hurrying to join in the firefight.

“Get inside Giordano’s,” Val ordered.

She shook her head, fighting back nausea. “Give me a gun.” She could barely breathe through the pain. The bullet had gone right through her, but it had done a lot of damage along the way. She wasn’t certain how much help she was going to be, but she could shoot with either hand.

“Damn it, Emme,” Val snapped. “Who the fuck are these jokers?”

He fired off three more rounds and someone yelled. A body dropped. He’d scored two hits, one injured and one most likely dead. Lethal. That’s what she needed right now.

Enrica and the others hurried up the alley, forcing Val to turn back to the firefight to cover them. The moment Enrica was close enough, she slapped a compress on Emmanuelle’s wound. Fire raced down Emme’s arm and to her belly, making it roll. She wasn’t about to get sick in front of Val Saldi.

She took the gun Enrica handed her and indicated for the others to get inside the butcher shop. She was certain those inside had already called the police. Amo pushed Lucia and Nicoletta ahead of him and turned back with the shotgun. Signora Moretti stayed as well. The butcher, Berardo Giordano, stepped out carrying a gun as well. Emmanuelle felt a little hysterical. Her little village was the Wild West.

Val glanced over his shoulder, groaning as he saw the others. He didn’t ask questions and he didn’t order Emmanuelle inside again, but he stayed close to her, so close she could feel the heat of his body–and his anger. He reloaded, rolled to one side and snapped off two quick shots. The moment he did, Enrica fired as well. Emmanuelle took her time, waiting as Val’s two shots hit their marks, one in the foot and one through the throat as the man hopped out into the open.

Enrica’s shot took out one of the three men running toward them. Amo’s shotgun boomed and Signora Moretti’s smaller revolver spat. Everything tunneled for Emmanuelle. Shadows connected everywhere, the runners and those hiding unable to keep their shadows from connecting with the tubes. They had no idea she had an exact map to each location.

She glanced at Enrica. Enrica nodded. Emmanuelle stepped out from behind the safety of the van and squeezed the trigger as if she had all the time in the world. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Bodies dropped. She stumbled back, feeling faint. Val caught her around the waist and dragged her behind cover as return fire sprayed all around her.

The jerking on her body sent another black wave through her. Vision clouded. Bile rose. She was going to go down. Desperate, she caught Val’s arm. “Get the others to safety.” She choked out the plea. Her knees went weak and she found herself falling.

Val caught her up, cradling her weight in his arms. “Berardo, Enrica, keep them pinned down. Signora Moretti, I’ll need you and the kid to stop this bleeding. Call an ambulance. Tell the police to step it up, we’re taking heavy fire.”

“Shooter on the roof on the main street across from Lucia’s Treasures,” Emmanuelle managed. She couldn’t feel her body. It was one giant pain, but she had no real knowledge of where her fingers and toes were.

“Shut the fuck up, Emme,” Val snapped. “I could strangle you right about now. What the hell was that? You trying to commit suicide?”

She would have smiled if she could have. Same old rude Val, even when she’d been shot. Every step he took jarred her body and sent more pain crashing through her. She had to clench her teeth to keep from vomiting all over him. She saw Nicoletta and Lucia as Val hurried past them, their faces white, eyes wide with shock when they saw the blood running down her arm and shoulder, soaking into her suit and covering Val’s shirt.

“Here, Val,” Claretta Giordano said. She pointed to a couch set up in the back room. She raised her voice. “Angelina Laconi! I need you right now.” Angelina’s parents owned the kitchen shop and she was a nurse. Her younger brother, Pace, was a senior in high school. Pace and Angelina hurried from the front of the butcher shop to the back as more shots were fired outside.

“You have to get out there, Val,” Emmanuelle whispered. “And don’t forget the one on the roof across the street.”

Val placed Emmanuelle carefully on the couch. “I’ve got this. Your brothers should be showing up soon. They’ll get the one on the roof.”

“I think they’re under attack as well,” she said. “We can’t count on them coming.”

He frowned. “All of them? Someone’s going after your family?”

She didn’t take her eyes from his and she nodded. Waiting. Hoping. She saw the fierce anger in him covered immediately. He caught up his phone as he pushed the hair that was spilling onto her forehead back, his fingers surprisingly gentle. “I’ve got this,” he repeated. “For once in your life, let someone help you.”

She didn’t have much choice, but she kept the gun handy. Shockingly, she hadn’t dropped it. He turned away from her, texting fast as he rushed outside. She knew he was checking with his father, making certain that Giuseppi hadn’t ordered a hit on all of them. For the first time, she wished Val’s cousin Dario, the man always acting as his bodyguard, was there. He’d keep Val safe and fight on their side just to do so–and he was fierce with any weapon.

“I can help,” Nicoletta said, pushing past Lucia to get to Emmanuelle’s side.

Angelina was tearing at Emmanuelle’s suit. Claretta handed her scissors. Already the sound of sirens was loud in the distance. She heard running feet–more of the nearby business owners rushing to help. They were all coming. Everyone. Leaving their stores to make certain their neighbors were safe.

Then Giovanni was there, bending over her. “You okay, baby?”

She’d never been so glad to see her brother. “Shooter on the roof across the street,” she whispered. It was so good to see him alive. She’d been so scared.

“I’ll get him. Taviano’s outside with the others.”

Angelina all but pushed him away. There was no time to tell him Val had helped, that it couldn’t be the Saldis. There was no way Giuseppi Saldi would allow his son to go anywhere without a bodyguard if he was going to war with the Ferraro family. Val might not know that, but she did.

She caught Giovanni’s hand as he moved back to allow Angelina to work on the wound. “Anyone else check in?”

Giovanni shook his head. He wasn’t about to tell her that Taviano and he had immediately left the scene, riding shadows as fast as possible to get to her. She was their only sister. It was ingrained in them to protect the women. She could produce riders. Nicoletta could produce riders. More than any others, they had to keep them safe. That was the reason they would use, if asked. The truth was, Emmanuelle was their beloved sister and they would protect her at all costs. She was every bit as good as they were at taking care of herself, but that didn’t stop them. Emmanuelle would be furious if she knew they’d come for that reason.

He left his sister reluctantly, turning his back on the firefight happening in the alley. He had to get to the sniper on the roof. If Emme said he was there, then he was. He texted Stefano again, and then Ricco with the information that Emmanuelle had been shot and the attack was still going on. He didn’t like leaving Nicoletta and Emmanuelle without a seasoned marksman in the room. Taviano and Enrica were outside. Val was as well. It would have been difficult to ask for help from a Saldi, but he would have done it.

He pulled Nicoletta aside, ignoring her wince and her instinctive retreat, trying to pull away from him. “Have you ever shot a gun?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Amo’s been showing me sometimes.”

The Ferraros should have been the ones to show her. They would have to address her training after they figured out who the hell was after them. He shoved his favorite weapon in her hands. “One’s in the chamber. The safety is on. This is how you take it off. Leave it on unless you intend to fire it. You have a full magazine. Don’t shoot unless you know what you’re shooting at, but you protect yourself and Emme and Lucia. You got that? Don’t waste time talking or warning. Just fucking fire if you have to. Understand?”

Nicoletta nodded solemnly and took the weapon from him. She slipped it under her jacket and went to stand up close to Emmanuelle. She didn’t realize it, but she was already, to the neighborhood, identifying herself as a member of the Ferraro family. No one would question it.

Giovanni waited until everyone was watching Emmanuelle and the nurse. He slipped into the front of the butcher shop through a dark shadow thrown by the spinning fan light overhead. He made his way silently through the crowd that had gathered there. The shadow took him almost to the front door. He stood just inside the tube, watching out the window, his gaze quartering the rooftops of the buildings across the street. He was careful not to move even as he watched for movement or anything that would give the shooter away.

Across from Masci’s, the deli where Francesca worked, up on the roof, he spotted the barrel of a rifle sticking out, just a few inches. The shooter was utterly still, was disciplined. Very disciplined. He kept his aim on the front door of the butcher shop. Not Masci’s, but Giordani’s. The shooter was in communication with the others. He knew the firefight was taking place in the alley. He also probably knew Nicoletta was inside with Lucia. If he was waiting for them, he would just have to be patient, wait for it all to be over, let everyone think they were safe and kill them as they left the butcher shop.

Giovanni studied the shadows outside. Two made it across the street, both shadows thrown from the position of the sun on the buildings. He would have to change shadows twice before he reached the rooftop. He couldn’t get out the door easily without someone leaving or coming in. He waited not so patiently. Inside the mouth of the tube, he couldn’t text his brothers or parents to see if they were alive. He mostly worried about Ricco. His brother had sounded the alarm, which meant he hadn’t been taken by surprise, but if this was about him, then he was most at risk.

Three men rushed up the sidewalk toward the butcher shop. He recognized Benito Petrov and his son, Tito, along with Tito’s nephew, Orlando. Giovanni waited, timing it just right. The moment Benito threw open the door, he stepped out of the tube into the next one. The pull was strong and fast. He ripped past the three Petrov men and out into the street. The switch came up fast and he hopped from one shadow to the next with ease, hoping the shooter was so focused on the butcher shop that he hadn’t seen the momentary flash of Giovanni’s body moving between shadows.

The shadow tore his body into pieces–or that’s what it felt like–as he went across the street and up the side of the building. He ran across the roof, staying low, studying the next building. It had a flat roof. He could chance jumping, or he could go down and back up the other side. Jumping would be faster. If he landed in the shadow, the only one he could spot thrown by a large industrial fan on the roof, the shooter wouldn’t see him even if he turned his head. That was a big “if.”

Giovanni took the chance. He leapt from the tube and landed just inside the other shadow. Taking a breath, he went still, gathering himself. The shooter looked back over his shoulder, his gaze moving around the roof, noting everything. Nothing was disturbed, not even the dust and dirt on the ground. Satisfied, the sniper turned back, once again putting his eye to the scope, his finger on the trigger, just waiting for the one shot he wanted.

Giovanni took a breath, let it out and emerged from the shadow right behind the sniper. He caught the man’s head in his hands, positioning his own body perfectly for the kill.

*

Saldi men were everywhere. Giuseppi had sent an army to protect his son. Val, Enrica and Taviano had already wiped out those in the alley, although Signora Moretti was insisting she’d killed one of them. Possibly two. When Taviano looked at the thickness of her glasses, he was certain Val and he were very lucky she hadn’t killed them.

Taviano had a bad, bad feeling in his gut. He’d learned never to ignore that warning, and the moment it was confirmed that all attackers were down, he turned and ran back down the alley to the entrance of Giordano’s. Emmanuelle hadn’t looked good. He hoped his radar wasn’t going off because of her. He heard footsteps running behind him, glanced over his shoulder as he yanked open the door and recognized Val Saldi. Great. Half the Saldis followed, including Val’s bodyguard and cousin, Dario.

Shaking his head, Taviano bent over Emmanuelle. “Got half the enemy right in this room, bella. Probably thanks to the prince’s fixation with you.” He whispered it to her, but he was really inspecting every inch of her. Her shoulder looked bad. Painful. She’d need an orthopedic surgeon, but the wound wasn’t life-threatening. He looked around, his uneasiness growing. “Where’s Giovanni?”

“Shooter across the street,” Emmanuelle whispered back, her voice hoarse. “On the roof.”

She hadn’t even gotten upset over him calling Val “prince,” or him saying their enemy, a family with a long-standing feud against them, had a fixation about her. She was hurting bad and that was more than worrisome.

He glanced to the front of the shop. He just couldn’t shake the feeling. “Has Ricco checked in?” He was already moving. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stay in that room with the smell of his sister’s blood and the sight of her beautiful face twisted in pain. There were others in the front of the shop, his people, but he couldn’t stay there. He had to go. Be somewhere. The feeling was so urgent, he nearly caught a shadow right in front of everyone. At the last minute, he took off running again out the back door.

The moment he was alone, he caught the first shadow leading up over the roof. As he was hurtled along, he searched the buildings across the street he was heading for. He saw his brother coming up behind the sniper. Something else. Something he was missing. Then he saw it and his heart stopped. He jumped from one shadow to the next, desperate to get there before it was too late–already knowing it was. Heart in his throat, he gained the roof where his brother stalked the sniper.

“Shooter, shooter!” he shouted. “Move now!” He hurtled himself across the roof, yelling at Giovanni as he did so.

Giovanni had already applied the pressure necessary, snapping the neck even as he turned toward the sound of his brother’s voice and then dove. There was no cover, only the shadow, and it was several feet away. A bullet tore through his left thigh, dropping him to the rooftop just a foot from his destination. It hurt like a mother, and blood geysered up like a fountain.

Taviano reached out and yanked both of his brother’s arms, dragging him into the shadow as a second bullet tore through Giovanni’s calf. Taviano wrapped his arms around him and slid through the tube, gaining the necessary speed. The sniper above them, shooting from two buildings away, peppered the shadows as if he knew they were using them to escape.

Giovanni bit down hard to keep from screaming. He tried to apply pressure to his leg, but the magnetic effect of the tube was too strong to do anything but let it take him. Blood flew all around them, leaving a trail and coloring Taviano’s shirt red. It didn’t stop his brother; Taviano took them right to the front door of the butcher shop. He halted, shifted Giovanni to his shoulder, yanked the door open and rushed inside.

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.