“Or was taken,” Stefano said. “Never a rider.”
“The possibility of other gifts is there, Stefano,” Vittorio insisted. “I’m just saying we need to be cautious. Maybe they can hear lies.”
“What about Emme?” Ricco asked. “Will she be at the meeting?”
“I wanted Emmanuelle to stand down, but she said she’s a rider, a member of our family and she knows the Saldis better than any of us. I had to agree with her logic,” Stefano answered.
“If they even smirk at her . . .” Ricco trailed off.
Vittorio looked at his brother and shook his head. “We’ve got to play this one cool. They might try to provoke us using Emmanuelle. If she can take the heat, so can we.”
“Always the voice of reason,” Stefano said. “Let’s hope we listen to you.”
“I’ve got to get back to Grace. I just have this bad feeling,” Vittorio admitted. “Whenever my gut says something’s wrong, it usually is.”
Stefano’s gaze narrowed. “You should have said something.” He was already moving toward the door.
“I thought it was because I was away from her,” Vittorio declared, uncaring what that admission said to his brothers. Both Ricco and Stefano were married to women they were very much in love with. They probably understood, but Vittorio had never expected to find Grace, let alone have a real shot at keeping her.
“Not likely,” Ricco said as they strode through the hall toward the elevator. “I’m feeling a little uneasy myself.”
Ignoring the stares and several cell phones snapping photographs of them, Stefano impatiently tapped his thigh as they waited for the doors to open. “I’ve texted Emme and Mariko as well as the bodyguards. They’re on alert.”
As they stepped into the elevator and the doors began to close, alarms began shrieking throughout the floor. Vittorio slammed his hand on the door, physically preventing it from closing. All three men bailed out, texting Emme and Mariko to make certain they were all right.
No alarms on this floor, Emme mass texted to them.
The nurses and doctors were running for one of the rooms.
“That’s the room Sarto is staying in,” Ricco said.
Stay alert, Vittorio commanded. Could be a distraction.
A nurse rushed from the room and vomited on the floor, a security guard not far behind her. Vittorio, Ricco and Stefano stopped abruptly in the doorway.
“You’re contaminating the scene,” Vittorio said, his voice pitched low, but carrying a firm command. “There’s nothing any of you can do for them. Get out of there now. We’ll need your names for the police.”
Stefano was already calling for them.
Vittorio glanced up at the vent. It appeared to be in place, but that didn’t mean Phillips hadn’t crawled through the air-conditioning system. He could have entered the room any number of ways, as an orderly, a phlebotomist, even as a nurse or doctor. If that had been the case, the police officer would have checked his ID and then followed him into the room. Vittorio could make out the policeman. He was dead, his throat cut, but his body hadn’t been hacked up the way that Ale Sarto’s had been. The Saldi enforcer looked almost as if he’d been skinned alive. A cursory study showed his mouth taped shut and his eyes taped open.
Vittorio glanced at Stefano, who nodded. Immediately, he and Ricco jogged to the stairwell, leaving their older brother to secure the scene and handle the police. Once out of sight of anyone else, they chose shadows that would carry them straight up the stairs to the private wing where Grace’s suite was. The shadow Vittorio chose was considered the proverbial greased lightning.
All three brothers wore their signature three-piece suit. Gray, pin-striped, made of a special material one of the many cousins had invented, the stripes allowing the rider to fade immediately into the shadows, making it more difficult for anyone to see them. More importantly, the suit would come apart with them when they were pulled apart, drawn into the tubes in the shadows.
The thinner, smaller tubes were hard on the body but delivered a rider to their destination much faster. Still, the rider was often disoriented when he arrived at the mouth of the tube. This shadow hit the floor and slid along the wall, connecting with several other shadows that were cast by the overhead lighting and objects in the halls.
Vittorio rode one shadow right to the entrance of Grace’s hospital room. He waited in the mouth of the tube until his body felt his own again and then, looking around to make certain only his bodyguards would be able to see him emerge, he stepped out onto the floor.
Emilio, his cousin and head of security for the Ferraro riders, greeted him with a grim face. “I’ve got Enzo inside, Vittorio.” He looked over Vittorio’s shoulder and nodded at Ricco. “They’re safe for the moment.”
“Watch the vents,” Ricco cautioned. “The bastard came right into the hospital and sliced Sarto to pieces. The door wasn’t locked. Anyone could have walked right in, but Phillips took his time. He didn’t seem to be worried he’d get caught. He’s a cocky little son of a bitch.”