Shadow Reaper
Page 24
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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.
Ricco moved with his fluid, flowing walk, although she could tell he was really hurting. She was fairly certain no one else could. Emilio and Enzo moved in on either side of them. She kept her arm firmly around his waist, helping to support him without looking as if she were.
He went straight to Lucia and the teenager, who were pressed against the side of the building. He took Lucia’s hand and bent to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Are you both all right?”
Nicoletta, her arms around Lucia, nodded. “I texted Amo. He’s on his way. I’m going to take Lucia to the deli and get her something to drink. I’ve already locked the store.”
She appeared suddenly very grown-up, not at all the young, uncertain teen Mariko had been introduced to. She was transformed, somehow, by the crisis, but she looked scared and resigned. She looked like a girl hunted – and haunted – yet standing up now that whatever the trouble was had found her.
“Nicoletta.”
Ricco’s voice was so gentle it turned Mariko’s heart over.
“We don’t know what this is about yet. We’re going to wait and see before jumping to conclusions. We’re heading to the deli as well, so we’ll walk with you. Emilio and Enzo are with us, and my family will be here any moment.”
So would the police. The sirens were louder than ever, and clearly that made Nicoletta nervous as well. Still, the girl’s hands on Lucia were steady and she nodded, turning the older woman toward the deli. Ricco and Mariko walked behind them, and as they did, Mariko for the first time could see the shadows on the teenager. She threw tubes out, tubes that sought connections with other shadows. Her breath caught in her throat. The girl was more of a mystery than ever. Clearly she was a shadow rider.
Ricco walked upright, making every effort not to lean on her, but she kept her arm firmly around his waist, fitting under his shoulder when she never would have walked so intimately with a man. Strangely, she didn’t mind. In fact, she liked thinking of him as hers to take care of and she dreaded getting to the deli where Francesca would take over. She wondered why he’d had to advertise for a rope model if he had Francesca.
Instinctively, she knew Ricco wouldn’t want her to ask him if he was all right. They both knew he wasn’t and he wouldn’t want to acknowledge the truth of that, or let anyone else know. She was well aware he was still recovering.
Looking up at him, at his handsome, rugged features, one couldn’t tell that every single step was agony, but she could. She was connected to him through their shadows and she felt his pain. He was stoic, as every shadow rider had been taught to be, but she didn’t like that he was so exposed. Out in the open. Every eye seemed to be on him.
She knew the impression they were giving to the watchers. She appeared to be his current girlfriend, something that didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t like the idea of being one of so many. His women never lasted long, most no more than a night, and the idea of the paparazzi getting ahold of her picture with him was distasteful. Still, she couldn’t let go of him or move away.
“Thank you.”
He said the words so softly she almost didn’t hear. She glanced up at him again and found his eyes fixed on her face. He knew what she was feeling. As she was growing up no one could read her, not even her beloved brother. She kept a serene mask in place despite every humiliation, every beating. She scrubbed floors and trained harder than every male rider, uncaring how sore she was and never allowing anyone to see how much she hurt. She had more practice than any other rider that she knew of in hiding how she felt, yet Ricco read her.
“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.
Ricco moved with his fluid, flowing walk, although she could tell he was really hurting. She was fairly certain no one else could. Emilio and Enzo moved in on either side of them. She kept her arm firmly around his waist, helping to support him without looking as if she were.
He went straight to Lucia and the teenager, who were pressed against the side of the building. He took Lucia’s hand and bent to brush a kiss across her cheek. “Are you both all right?”
Nicoletta, her arms around Lucia, nodded. “I texted Amo. He’s on his way. I’m going to take Lucia to the deli and get her something to drink. I’ve already locked the store.”
She appeared suddenly very grown-up, not at all the young, uncertain teen Mariko had been introduced to. She was transformed, somehow, by the crisis, but she looked scared and resigned. She looked like a girl hunted – and haunted – yet standing up now that whatever the trouble was had found her.
“Nicoletta.”
Ricco’s voice was so gentle it turned Mariko’s heart over.
“We don’t know what this is about yet. We’re going to wait and see before jumping to conclusions. We’re heading to the deli as well, so we’ll walk with you. Emilio and Enzo are with us, and my family will be here any moment.”
So would the police. The sirens were louder than ever, and clearly that made Nicoletta nervous as well. Still, the girl’s hands on Lucia were steady and she nodded, turning the older woman toward the deli. Ricco and Mariko walked behind them, and as they did, Mariko for the first time could see the shadows on the teenager. She threw tubes out, tubes that sought connections with other shadows. Her breath caught in her throat. The girl was more of a mystery than ever. Clearly she was a shadow rider.
Ricco walked upright, making every effort not to lean on her, but she kept her arm firmly around his waist, fitting under his shoulder when she never would have walked so intimately with a man. Strangely, she didn’t mind. In fact, she liked thinking of him as hers to take care of and she dreaded getting to the deli where Francesca would take over. She wondered why he’d had to advertise for a rope model if he had Francesca.
Instinctively, she knew Ricco wouldn’t want her to ask him if he was all right. They both knew he wasn’t and he wouldn’t want to acknowledge the truth of that, or let anyone else know. She was well aware he was still recovering.
Looking up at him, at his handsome, rugged features, one couldn’t tell that every single step was agony, but she could. She was connected to him through their shadows and she felt his pain. He was stoic, as every shadow rider had been taught to be, but she didn’t like that he was so exposed. Out in the open. Every eye seemed to be on him.
She knew the impression they were giving to the watchers. She appeared to be his current girlfriend, something that didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t like the idea of being one of so many. His women never lasted long, most no more than a night, and the idea of the paparazzi getting ahold of her picture with him was distasteful. Still, she couldn’t let go of him or move away.
“Thank you.”
He said the words so softly she almost didn’t hear. She glanced up at him again and found his eyes fixed on her face. He knew what she was feeling. As she was growing up no one could read her, not even her beloved brother. She kept a serene mask in place despite every humiliation, every beating. She scrubbed floors and trained harder than every male rider, uncaring how sore she was and never allowing anyone to see how much she hurt. She had more practice than any other rider that she knew of in hiding how she felt, yet Ricco read her.
