Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
They moved up on the two men as one. It felt powerful and connective to be in step like that. He reached and she moved, leaping, her hands flying to the man’s head, positioning exactly while her legs wrapped him up. She wrenched, using her body weight, just as Ricco did the same with his hands. Audible cracks accompanied the whispers of “Justice is served.” Mariko was just as graceful dismounting the body before it hit the ground as she was when she went flying through the air in her perfect attack.
Ricco locked his arm around her neck and dragged her to him, taking her mouth, because the combination of riding the shadows and seeing his woman in action was causing a powerful, intense reaction in his body. Every rider coming out of the shadows was desperate for sex. The drive was so brutal, they took care not to drink alcohol or go out in public until they could get themselves under control. He could feel the need, that terrible drive already on him, and they still had several shadows to maneuver and more tasks to complete before he could pay attention to the urgent demands of his body or those of his woman’s.
She tasted like she always did. To the rest of the world she was pure warrior, reserved, aloof, always in control. For Ricco, she was his woman, showing vulnerability, ceding control to him, allowing an exchange of power. Gifting him with her trust. She’d saved him when no one else could have. He loved her with every breath he took, and watching her in action strengthened his desire to make her life everything it should have been from the day she was born.
She’d never had a decent family life, and he wanted to give her that. Eloisa wasn’t the best, she certainly wasn’t ever going to be a great mother to her, but there were Stefano and Francesca—the true heads of the family—and they loved her. Giovanni and Sasha had become immediate friends. Now there was Vittorio and Grace. Nicoletta had always been a favorite of Mariko’s. She’d treated her as a younger sister. And Mariko loved Taviano as much as he would let her. Taviano wasn’t a man who let others really know him. Ricco had been the same way for so long, he hadn’t really seen that in anyone else. It had been Mariko who had pointed that out. Then there was Emmanuelle. Everyone loved Emmanuelle.
He had definitely surrounded Mariko with a large family, and they all loved her. They weren’t the only ones. He had an extended family that went on forever. Cousins. So many of them. They practically smothered the riders in protection. Mariko wasn’t used to so many people and so much attention, especially bodyguards following them everywhere when they went out to eat or to a club. He could tell they made her uncomfortable, even though she liked them.
Mariko rubbed her hand along his jaw. “What is it, Ricco?”
“I was just thinking how much I love you.”
“You were frowning. The thought of loving me makes you frown?” There was amusement in her voice.
Something about that soft laughter made his heart do a slow roll. “I was thinking how much you don’t like the bodyguards that always surround us. It will get worse if we have children. There’s very little I can do about it, and I promised you I’d do whatever it took to make you happy.”
“I am happy, Ricco.” She tugged on his hand. “Let’s finish this. I’d like to get the job done and go back to being us.”
He leaned down and nuzzled the suit jacket out of the way of her neck so he could kiss her pulse there. “You want to see what artwork I come up with on the rooftop, don’t you?”
“That, and I have to confess, one more shadow and I might jump you before we get to the artwork. This is crazy.”
He flashed a grin, took her hand and ducked back into the tube that would take them closest to the side parking lot, where the three vehicles had been left unattended. By now, Emidio had to have been told that none of them would start. There were four Demons left out of the fourteen that had come from St. Louis. Emidio had no idea what had happened to his men, and he would want to know.
The shadow was a long one, but fairly easy to ride. They paused just in the mouth of it, watching the Demons as they consulted together. Whispering. All of them were on their phones attempting to raise those not present. Emidio was furious. He punched the side of the truck, denting it, giving away the fact that he wore brass knuckles on his hand. He was prepared for a battle. He gestured toward the alley and indicated they all go armed together.