that, they’ll be trying to save the chef and the two idiots who work for him.” There was taunting laughter in his voice.
“Grace!” It was Vittorio, and relief swept through her.
“Out here. He’s out here and he’s hurt Eloisa.”
Haydon punched her hard. Her cheek seemed to explode, and she went down, her legs wobbly. He caught her chin. “I’ll be back, and I will kill them all.” Then he was gone.
The night itself seemed to swallow him, protect him, give him a way to hide when no one else could. Sirens sounded in the distance, but it was too late if the cops were coming. Haydon had once again gone free.
Mi amore. Grace.” Vittorio crouched down beside her. Heart pounding, he wiped at the blood and tears running down her face. There had only been four men on Grace and Eloisa. All were unconscious or coming around. Not one was one of their primary guards. He was going to kill Emilio for sending their most experienced bodyguards to aid the riders. He should have known Emilio would have done so. His job above anything else was to protect the riders. Eloisa didn’t want that privilege any longer. She had taken the job of a greeter, relinquishing her job as a rider, unless there was a need, therefore, the bodyguards wouldn’t be as worried about her.
“He got away.”
His hands moved over her, noting every wince. “Not necessarily. I don’t want you to move. Don’t try to get up. I’m going to check out Eloisa.”
“I need to know if she’s all right, Vittorio. She saved me more than once.”
That would be just like his mother. She would bitch about their choices, but she would defend and fight for every one of them. She’d give her life if it was necessary. He crouched down beside her and gently examined the head wound. It was deep, and it was pouring blood. They’d already summoned ambulances for the wounded in the kitchen. He texted the others. He needed to go hunting and couldn’t do so until his brothers and sister were there for Grace and Eloisa.
Taviano and Emmanuelle arrived almost instantly. Emmanuelle rushed to Eloisa with a little cry. Taviano stood back waiting for Vittorio to tell him what he wanted done, but his gaze was on his mother’s body.
“Is she alive?”
“Barely. She needs to get to the hospital. I’ve texted Stefano. He’ll meet you there. I want you with Grace at all times. I don’t care what crap they give you, don’t leave her side.”
Taviano nodded. “Good hunting.”
“I won’t miss.”
He stood up and as he did so, he brushed a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “She’s strong, Emme. She’ll pull through.”
Vittorio went to Grace and crouched down. “Taviano will be with you. I’m going after Haydon.”
“He’s dangerous, Vittorio. He might turn back and hunt you. That’s the kind of thing he does.”
Vittorio kissed her gently, cognizant of her injuries. When he rose, he glanced around, saw Emilio and Enzo closing in. He stepped into the nearest shadow. It swallowed him up, pulling apart his body brutally, tearing at him, but he controlled the ride and forced his eyes to watch for signs of passing.
Haydon had to have gone straight out to the front gate. A fence surrounded the property. It was ornate, made of wrought iron, the spikes twisting high into the sky like braided spears. He could see faint streaks of light as if the man had left behind prints. They didn’t appear like footprints, there were mere faint bluish lights, more of a blob-line than a print, but every person left them behind and from shadows he could see them. He couldn’t spot the imaging once out of tube, but the shadows acted as if he was seeing through a thermal lens.
Haydon’s prints, like every individual’s, were unique. Vittorio knew he would always be able to spot them. The heat images faded fast, so he had to ensure he was close on the killer’s heels. Sometimes, if they were lucky, a person left behind skin cells, evidence of their passing that could be used, but they were much harder to spot when riding the faster tubes.
Vittorio stepped from one shadow to the next, following Haydon as he ran down the street leading to the main highway. Haydon had slowed his run, Vittorio could tell by the length of his strides. He went from one parked car along the street to the next, clearly looking for one to steal.
Vittorio deliberately chose a smaller