Shadow Fire (Shadow Riders 7)

“Archambault. You fucking bastard.” Riccardo pulled out his gun and began to shoot in every direction. Bullets hit his mother and father, which made him scream. Fingers of steel closed around his wrist and the gun turned toward his head. He kept pulling the trigger. He couldn’t stop himself, even though he knew he should. Bullets spat at him, into his jaw, his temple, his skull.

He slumped over and thought he heard someone say they had a plane to catch and needed to get out fast, the cops were on their way. He didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Mostly, he was dead.

Elie took a fast tube to the airport and joined the other riders on the Ferraro jet. Franco Mancini had already filed their flight plan and they were in the air as soon as they were cleared for takeoff. The other riders had gone after the key members of Santoro’s organization, taking out the ones who had dealt mainly with the trafficking business.

“Has there been word on any of the investigators uncovering the mole at the hotel?” Elie asked the moment he was seated.

“No one has found any evidence of money that shouldn’t be in any account so far,” Ricco reported. “That seems to be the first thing they always look for.”

“There’s no connection that anyone can find,” Vittorio added, “not even a distant connection with the Santoro family by blood or marriage.”

Elie could demand the plane put down in Chicago. He’d discussed going back with Val and Dario, but in the end, he had decided he would do better in Spain. The Toselli family was firmly entrenched in Spain and their tentacles were far-reaching. Stefano’s security force was the best. Emmanuelle, Valentino and Dario assured him they would watch over Brielle. And Brielle was no slouch when it came to self-defense. She was fierce, even if she was wounded. That was part of his worry, that she would try to protect everyone around her.

He pressed his fingers to his temples and tried not to think too much about her alone in their hotel room. Was she alone?

“Don’t drive yourself crazy, Elie,” Stefano advised. “It won’t do you any good. Think of all the people you helped today. We spared Riccardo’s grandchildren. Hopefully, they’ll grow up outside of the business and have a chance to be happy. The young child was taken out by the child protection agency. The security guards will tell the cops that Riccardo was acting strange, muttering to himself and ignoring them. Security tapes will show him demanding to know where you went, that you just left the office. There was no evidence of you going into the house or leaving it. No security guard saw you. We made sure of that.”

Elie nodded. “I stayed in the shadow, until Riccardo had closed the door to his office. I also made certain I could never be seen on any of the cameras. He does look like he was losing his mind.”

“I’ve asked that Geno keep us apprised of what happens to that poor child given to Ezra,” Mariko said. “I wanted to bring him home with us and just take care of him.”

Ricco wrapped his arm around her. “I hate that you continually have to be exposed to the worst of human beings.”

She smiled up at him. “But then I have you, Ricco. You turn everything around for me.”

Elie realized that was what Brielle did for him. She’d done it in such a short time. Her laughter. The way she was in the kitchen, chattering with him while she prepared some amazing feast she didn’t even consider was fantastic. She noticed his preferences. He liked to get up early and do his meditation and breathing to keep his lungs fit and mentally prepare for shadow riding. She always got up with him, or woke him even earlier than usual with her mouth on him, a very pleasant way to wake.

She noticed he preferred candles to lights at night, especially in the bathroom. She used candles. There were so many little things she did for him that he had never expected. He was utterly unused to being pampered. He had taken care of himself for years—right down to doing his own laundry. Part of that—he knew—was paranoia, not trusting anyone to get that close. Now there was Brielle. And he loved the way she pampered him.

“I don’t want to lose her, Stefano. Not to some damn sleeper assassin that somehow slipped by us unnoticed. Why would he be working in your hotel?”

“That’s a good question. Was Santoro targeting a Ferraro, or was that coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Elie said.

“Neither do I,” Stefano said.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Brielle, what the hell are you doing?” Valentino demanded. “You’re making me crazy. You’re like a tiger in a really small cage pacing that way.”

Brielle paused for a moment, sending him one emotion-laden look from under her lashes. “I think better when I’m moving and I need a bigger space. If you’re going to make me stay in a really small room, then I have to pace.”

“Doc says you’re not supposed to be up,” Dario intoned in his usual expressionless way.

“He did not.” Brielle glared at him. “You just make things up, the same as Elie.”

“This is not a really small room,” Val objected, looking around at the large suite. “You’re just trying to find a reason to go snooping around to find the mole. You’re not a detective.”

Emmanuelle sighed. “I think you’re just frustrated, Brielle. Do you want to talk it out? Does that help?”

Brielle swept her hair out of her eyes, wincing, turning away from them in the hopes that none of them saw that it still hurt like hell if she moved wrong. The shoulder and her temple weren’t really that bad, but if she raised her arm without thinking and then hit her temple like an idiot, pain ripped through her and not in a good way. Really, it was her insides that hurt the worst. Well, that and her thigh.

“It isn’t like I don’t have a suspect,” Brielle admitted and then instantly bit down hard on the side of her lower lip. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Stupid, stupid mistake.

Valentino turned around and Dario quit pretending to play with his phone. Not only did he stop pretending, he put it away. All the way away. In his pocket. His dark eyes had taken on the “look,” the one that scared her a little bit.

“What the fuck, Brielle,” Val snapped. “You have a suspect and you haven’t said a word? You don’t think sharing is a good idea?”