Instinctively, Ricco rolled across the hood and landed hard in the street. Emilio was on him in moments, covering his body with his own, both bodyguards returning fire. Blood spattered the windows and the seat as the driver was hit. The truck lurched to a slow roll. Emilio leapt off Ricco and ran to the truck just as Enzo tore open the door to steer it to the curb.
Ricco was slower sitting up than he'd like. He'd hit hard, and his body was still healing. His head hurt the worst, every movement sending what felt like shards of glass piercing his skull. It took every single bit of discipline he had to set his teeth and just sit there in the street without keeling over. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his chest.
It took him a few moments to orient himself and understand what had happened. He'd managed to shove Mariko into Lucia and both had gone flying, but they were safe. He could only send up a short prayer that Lucia hadn't broken a hip or done worse when she hit the ground. He knew he'd gotten Nicoletta clear, but the driver had fired off several shots before one of his cousins had stopped him. He had no idea if anyone had been hit.
A cool hand swept back his hair. Mariko crouched beside him, her body between his and the sidewalk where half the village was watching. If anything told him she was a shadow rider, that instinctive need to protect a fellow rider said it all. His gaze moved over her face, examining her for injuries.
"Lucia?"
"She's good. I rolled under her and she didn't even hit the sidewalk. Nicoletta's fine as well. He fired several shots into the crowd but no one was hit, thanks to Enzo shouting for everyone to get down. Can you get up?" As she gave him all the pertinent information, her hand wiped away the beads of sweat.
She'd rolled to keep Lucia from hitting the pavement. Fast, fast reflexes. He'd shoved her hard to get her clear, deliberately making the choice to send both flying to get them out of harm's way. Even with a shove like that, hitting Lucia and going down, she had the presence of mind to roll before they struck the sidewalk. Definitely a shadow rider. Had he still been considering that he was wrong about her, the way she was guarding him from interested eyes and her astonishing reflexes said it all.
He had to get up. There was no choice. "Were they after Nicoletta? Or me?" he asked. "Could you tell?"
"I'm sorry, no. But it was deliberate."
He gave her a small smile. His head hurt just making the little movement to look fully at her. Damn, but she was beautiful. He could look at her forever. He planned to do just that, and sitting on his ass in the middle of the street wasn't helping his cause. He took a breath, steeled himself and forced his body into a standing position. Waves of nausea crashed through him instantly, but he made it to his feet.
Mariko slipped her arm around his waist. "Where should we go?" She was asking him how to get him out from under the eyes of the public.
The sound of sirens was loud. The police would want to question him. He couldn't just leave, no matter how much he wanted to. Ricco straightened his body, ignoring the painful protests. "The deli. Masci's. They'll have chairs and I need to sit. Francesca will be there."
Mariko blinked up at him. Francesca will be there. She was helping him, but he thought Francesca could do a better job. She was quite capable of looking after his injuries without another woman interfering. She forced her mind away from jealousy. That horrible tiny flare of resentment couldn't be called anything else.
Ricco Ferraro didn't deserve death. Whatever crime he had supposedly committed to be on someone's hit list, there had to be extenuating circumstances. Mariko had been delivering justice to criminals since she was fourteen years old. She knew criminals and she knew good.
The moment Ricco had realized there was a truck barreling down on them, he'd shoved her into Lucia, moving both out of its path. He'd had to turn and catch Nicoletta up, running with her to get her clear. He could have saved himself and left the others to their fate, but he'd risked his life to get them all clear – especially the teenager. He had placed himself in jeopardy.
The driver had been determined to kill them. Or one of them. Mariko honestly didn't know which one. It stood to reason that the intended victim had been Ricco, but only because she'd been ordered to kill him. Even after he'd thrown the girl from him, the truck had continued on its course to crush her. Mariko had managed to throw a rock at the windshield to obscure the driver's vision and hopefully slow him down. He'd pointed a gun out of the driver's side window, but it was impossible to tell if he was firing at anyone in particular.