Shadow Reaper
Page 59

 
“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.”