At the same time, not more than six feet away, a much taller shadow emerged from the closed umbrella’s shadow on the patio. He was directly behind a second intruder, his hands already in position, snapping the neck and lowering him to the ground. Between Emmanuelle and Elie, it took under two minutes to dispatch eight of the ten men. They were like machines, Elie moving so fast, he was a blur. Brielle had never seen an Archambault in action and it was amazing to watch. She could barely see him as he moved from his target to the shadow and out again. Some of the time, she didn’t actually spot him until the body dropped.
The two team leaders were the only ones spared. Brielle had identified the first one wearing blue. The second one wore an identical shirt in the same color of deep blue. When the two men realized their team members were lying on the patio instead of climbing up the side of the house behind them, they rappelled down and ran toward the pier, where their boats were tied.
Valentino and Dario stood between them and their intended getaway. With the two crime bosses stood the men who insisted on protecting them.
“I suggest you drop your weapons, gentlemen,” Val said, his voice low and smooth.
Both men did so immediately. Brielle watched as Val’s and Dario’s guards took possession of the guns and then, not very politely, took the men to the ground and did a very thorough search for more weapons. Once they were certain they had secured the intruders’ arsenal, they secured their captives’ hands behind their backs and yanked them up, directing them none too gently toward the corner of the house, where she could no longer see them.
Brielle assumed the prisoners were taken to a car parked out of her sight, near the private drive between the two homes. She made a note to inspect it the first chance she got in the morning. Right now, there was nothing she could do. Leone and Raimondo had already gone downstairs.
Waking her laptop, she brought up Dino Colombo’s email. A surge of adrenaline swept through her. He’d taken the bait and opened the email from his wine buyer. Her little program allowed her to worm her way into his computer and look around his hard drive without tripping his firewalls.
Having done so many of these searches before, she knew to wait until her body’s responses calmed so she could follow her natural reaction. There was a small bar in the office with a refrigerator stocked with her favorite mineral water. That little detail had been in the many things she had been asked to include in the sheets of personal information she had sent when she’d written to the man she had been matched with. She had been a little shocked that he cared enough to supply the fridge with the water she preferred.
Once she had settled, she began to search Dino’s computer, allowing her brain and fingers to connect in the way they did, not conscious thought so much as a flowing path that led her to the information she was seeking. If she overthought things, or tried to put herself too much in the way, it always took her far longer to get answers. But letting that natural connection flow through her seemed to always get her to the results she needed.
Unlike most of the men she investigated, Dino didn’t have tons of porn on his computer. He didn’t appear to have a mistress. He sent little notes to his wife often, as well as gifts. Brielle took a sip of water when she felt the familiar jolt that led her to open the little file with the interesting name. It appeared to be a playlist of songs. Friends in Low Places.
Her heart gave a little jump. There were four pictures there. Valentino. Dario. Elie. And one of her. That was all. No text. Just the four pictures. She brought up Elie’s photograph as she took another sip of water and sat back in her chair to study it. Where had it been taken? She could trace it back and also find who originally sent it to Dino.
“Nice picture, baby.”
Elie’s voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She hadn’t even heard him come in. That was one of the things that made her a lousy shadow rider. She should be aware of her surroundings at all times, but she got so deep into her investigations, she was in another world.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I noticed. What are you doing?”
There was no censure in his voice. It was that same low, almost caressing tone, the one that brushed over her skin like velvet, but she got the feeling she was in trouble.
“Following up on the Colombo family. I just had this feeling about them when I was investigating them. Sometimes that happens.” She couldn’t stop the eagerness that crept into her tone. “There’s a connection between Barcelona, New York and Los Angeles, Elie, and the way they’re using the freighters out at sea and then bringing them into smaller ports.” The words tumbled over one another, a bad habit when she was trying to explain something and she was certain the other person wouldn’t listen to her.