Shadow Warrior (Shadow Riders 4)

“Are you all right?” He wasn’t looking at the older man; he studied the shadows falling around the shooter.

“Yes, yes. Thanks to you. Where’s Valentino? Was he shot?”

Stefano directed the bodyguards, “When it’s safe, take Giuseppi and Miceli and their sons back into the conference room. Make certain no one gets near them.” He clapped Giuseppi on the shoulder as he walked past him, but he didn’t stop. He walked into the lobby to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

An eerie silence had taken over the hotel. All eyes were on Stefano. “Why don’t you let her go?” In the distance was the sound of sirens.

“That’s not going to happen,” the man called down, his accent very heavy. “If I let her go, they’ll shoot me down immediately.”

“No one is going to shoot you down.”

“They will. I know too much. They’re after me and I didn’t get the job done.”

With all eyes on Stefano, Vittorio slipped back into the darkness of the corner. His family was in place in the shadows inside the conference room. Taviano, Emme and Giovanni were with the Saldis in plain sight, but they were guarded by their mother and cousins. He didn’t have to worry about them. Stefano was deliberately placing himself in danger in order to allow Vittorio to get into position to take the shooter down.

Vittorio spotted the shadow he needed. It was one of the thinner ones that moved like lightning, so fast one’s body felt as if it were torn apart and could never catch up. The shadow, thrown by a hanging crystal branch dripping with what looked like icicles, went all the way up the stairs, beyond the shooter, to disappear into the darker corner behind him.

Vittorio would have one moment when he was exposed as he stepped from his corner to the shadow, but all eyes appeared to be on the drama playing out between Stefano and the shooter. Emilio suddenly glided between Vittorio and the others, giving him the opportunity to come in behind him. One step. The tube caught at him, dragged him inside so hard he felt wrenched apart, his body seemingly flying to pieces.

The shock was always greater than one expected, even with all his experience. He streaked past his brother and up the stairs. A teenage boy crouched six stairs from the top, almost in plain sight of the shooter. He huddled there, shaking, holding on to the bannister as if he might leap over at any moment. Vittorio caught a glimpse of the shooter’s human shield as he sped past. The woman had stark terror on her face. She was moaning, the tears streaking her makeup so it ran down her face, making several dark lines.

He halted just behind the shooter in the mouth of the tube, waiting for his body to come together, for the terrible wrenching to subside so he could breathe again. He studied the man. He was older than expected. In his late forties or early fifties. His accent had been Sicilian. What had he said? He knew too much. They would shoot him down. They needed this man alive. They needed to be able to question him.

He waited, knowing Stefano would distract the shooter to give him time to get into position to free the woman and strip the gun away.

“I’ll come up. You let her go and take me hostage. This is my hotel and I can’t very well have my guests accosted. I won’t resist in any way. I think that’s a fair deal.” Stefano set one foot on the stairs.

Vittorio couldn’t help but admire his brother. In one short moment he had saved the hotel’s reputation. Everyone would want to come where the owners put their life on the line for their guests.

Behind him, the doors of the hotel opened, and police burst into the lobby, rushing up behind Stefano. Stefano turned to face them, his hand up in the air. “Just hold it right there.”

For a moment, chaos reigned as the SWAT team poured into the lobby, weapons drawn. There was more yelling and some screams. Vittorio stepped out from the shadows, behind and just to the side of the shooter. As he reached to strip the gun from the man, two shots rang out, one after the other, and the woman slumped in the shooter’s arms, blood dripping from her throat and the middle of her forehead.

At once screams rivaled with gunfire as the police opened up with their weapons, mowing down the shooter. Vittorio turned and dove for the tube as the shooter was flung backward. The teenage boy waited as the cops rushed the stairs. One tapped him on the shoulder and he turned and ran down the stairs, looking as if he was weeping.

Stefano was waiting at the end of the hall. Relief was palpable the moment Vittorio stepped out of the shadows in front of him. “Are you all right? Were you hit?” He ran his hands over his brother’s chest. “That went to hell fast. What the fuck happened, Vittorio? Who shot her? The shot didn’t come from behind me.”