Shadow Reaper (Shadow #2)(89)

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.