Shadow Warrior, page 31
part #4 of Shadow Rider Series
“If I tell you a lie, or someone else does, can you hear that lie?”
Grace frowned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Most of the time. I don’t rely on it, but a red flag goes up if I think I hear a lie.”
“I can hear lies. My family members can. Greeters are usually older family members who can hear lies. By the time they become a greeter, they are adept at telling the difference between a lie and the truth.”
“I don’t understand.” She frowned, trying to figure out where he was going with his revelation. She half expected he would tell her the Ferraro family was as immersed in crime as the Saldi family. Or that he traveled the world on family business, sitting on boards for banks or hotels, and she would have to stay in their home alone. She was prepared for almost anything but the direction he went.
“If you came to us and petitioned for a meeting for help, you would first see two greeters. They would serve you tea or coffee, whatever your preference, and they would make small talk with you. Just have a light conversation.”
She knew immediately why. By conversing about the weather, a job, just everyday things, whoever was listening would be able to ascertain a rhythm to a voice. The way a person breathed. Their heartbeat. That would help indicate if they suddenly told a lie.
“When they were ready, the greeter would ask you why you have come to see them. At that point whoever has petitioned for help would lay out their problem. It can be anything from as trivial as a lost purse to what you are dealing with. If you were the petitioner, you would tell them about your first meeting with Haydon Phillips and everything that happened after that. You would tell them about your suspicions—that he is a serial killer, but you have no real proof. You would supply whatever you do have—names, dates, cities. And then you would tell them about how he terrorizes you and how he lives in other people’s attics and spies on innocent families.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Where was he going with this? She found herself very tense and couldn’t quite relax no matter how much she told herself to. Maybe it was because for the first time in her relationship with him, she knew he was tense. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he talked, but every now and then he sipped at the Scotch.
She had been around Little Italy for a while, and even at times had entered the Ferraro territory, but the only thing she’d heard was that there was little crime there and it was dangerous to cross a Ferraro. Everything else she’d heard on the news or read in tabloids or magazines.
“At the end of the interview, without telling you whether or not they will accept the job, the greeters rise, indicating the meeting is over and they will contact you. Little is said because there is always danger of someone attempting to record the interview, or perhaps an undercover cop will try to slip through. We’re very careful. Cell phones aren’t allowed in the interview room, although the room looks like a very cozy sitting room.”
She was intrigued in spite of everything. “What happens next?”
“If the greeters determine that the petitioner is telling the truth as he or she knows it, and they believe there is a valid case, the petition with all details is turned over to two teams of investigators. One will investigate the actual crime or crimes. When necessary they call on another team that can handle anything on the Internet. The second team of investigators does a complete workup on the petitioner. Until both teams and the greeters are satisfied, no one touches the case.”
Private investigators? They supplemented the police detectives? She couldn’t imagine the sophisticated Ferraro family getting down and dirty in the trenches. She frowned, trying not to jump ahead with her imagination.
“Investigators are also members of our family. They can hear lies as well. That is a requirement in our family if you want to be a greeter or investigator, but they can also persuade people to talk to them with their voices. Those they speak to about any crime find they want to tell the investigators as much as possible. Both teams take their time and investigate thoroughly. No one wants to make a mistake. Sometimes, things are let go because one person isn’t absolutely certain and all parties, both teams and the greeters, have to agree the crime or crimes were committed and someone has been wronged.”
“You have the ability to persuade others to do what you want, don’t you?” His voice. That beautiful, compelling voice. Black velvet. Magical. He soothed an entire room. He could calm anyone down.
“I have an ability. It’s a little different than the investigators’, but yes, if you want to call it persuasion, I guess you could use that description. I think of it as energy and I keep mine low and hopefully soothing in a bad situation, one that is escalating. I want to defuse it.”
Grace stood up and wandered over to the open doorway to stand in the midst of the breeze so that it cooled her suddenly heated skin. He had persuaded her to wear the leather corset. To marry him. To give herself into his keeping. She had wanted to wear the daring lingerie for him, something she never would have considered on her own.
Vittorio came up behind her, his body tight against her back, his arms coming around her. She reached up and took the nearly empty glass of Scotch out of his hand and drained the contents, nearly choking when the burn slid smoothly down her throat to settle in her belly. He buried his face against her neck, his teeth scraping gently, his lips sliding over the pulse there while his hands cupped the soft weight of her breasts.
“What are you thinking?”
“That you’re very good at persuading me with that voice of yours. You speak to me and I would do almost anything to please you.”
“Is that my voice, or because of the way you feel about me?”
Was there disappointment in his tone? Hurt? Her stomach knotted in protest. She leaned her head back against his chest, letting him lift her breasts, the pads of his thumbs brushing caresses over her nipples. There seemed to be a direct line from her nipples to her sex, because every stroke sent darts of fire streaking through her body, sizzling through her veins so that the blood pooled hotly. He could do that so easily.
“I believe it is because of the way I feel about you. I like making you happy. You always manage to make me happy and I like to give that back to you.” It was more than that. She loved giving back to him. She knew she was a pleaser. It was in her to give and she was perfectly fine with who she was. That trait made her very, very good at her job. She hoped it would make her an excellent partner as well. “But, I am susceptible to your voice.”
She turned in his arms to look up at him. “Tell me the rest. It’s very intriguing.” She had no idea where he was going with it. She still didn’t believe, not for one moment, that his family helped the police in their investigations. She had seen interactions between the Ferraros and the detectives. It was a very uneasy alliance.
He hesitated and then pressed his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes. “Once you know this information, you have committed fully to me. We don’t divorce. Not ever. It isn’t done, not without severe repercussions to both of us. Understand that, Grace.”
She couldn’t see how she could understand unless he told her, but she didn’t have plans of running away from him, so she nodded. Vittorio dropped his arms and straightened abruptly. He stepped outside onto the patio and looked up at the stars as if he could find an answer to whether or not he wanted to trust her further. Abruptly, he spun around and stalked her when she backed away from him. He looked like a tiger about to pounce on his prey.
Vittorio caught her hand and drew her back to the chair. She sat down at his silent command and looked up at him expectantly.
“When everyone has absolutely agreed and there is no possible margin of error, the reports are turned over to what is known in our family as a rider. A shadow rider.”
Just the way he said it, or maybe it was the title itself that made her heart plunge, but whatever it was, she was suddenly afraid.
“There are portals in the shadows. Have you ever slipped into a shadow and realized no one noticed you there? Has that ever happened to you?”
It had. Multiple times. There had been a strange sensation, one she didn’t care for, as if her body had been wrenched apart, her chest flying away from her and her body scattered in molecules throughout the shadows. It was just a weird sensation she couldn’t account for, but every time it happened, others would walk right by her and not realize she was standing there. Once, Haydon had almost walked into her.
She moistened her lips and nodded slowly because he was waiting for an answer. She always answered him truthfully. That was their agreement. There would be honesty between them, even if it was difficult. “It’s happened. But I don’t know what you mean by a portal.”
“We refer to the tubes as portals because the shadow itself can transfer us from one place to another.”
Automatically, Grace shook her head. “That’s not scientifically possible.”
“Nevertheless, we’ve done it. I can step into a shadow and be gone from one end of the house to the other. My brother Giovanni was shot and had to have hardware, pins and bolts, just like you have in your shoulder. Because of the hardware, he can’t ride the shadows, so he drives a car here when he comes. The others don’t want anyone, especially Haydon, to know they’ve left their homes, so they use the shadows. It’s necessary to make him think, if he’s watching, that we’re all going about our regular business.”
She stared up at him, trying to change what he said, or change her comprehension. She just wasn’t hearing him correctly. “You are telling me that you and your family are capable of moving in this house, from one end to the other, using a shadow? Not walking in that shadow, but you step in, can’t be seen, and you come out in another room.”
“That is correct. We were trained from the time we were two years old. It isn’t easy. The energy force feels like a strong magnet pulling the body apart. You actually feel as if you’re flying apart. Skin, bones, blood, your very cells. It isn’t a pleasant sensation.”
She’d felt that exact sensation. “You can really do that?”
He nodded slowly. “I know it sounds insane, but I do it all the time. I can step into that shadow cast by the fireplace.” He indicated one that danced on the wall and carried over to the other side of the room. “Once I do, it will take me to the spot by the door where it merges with the light.”
She knew he was going to demonstrate and she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. If he really could do it, it was the coolest thing ever and she wanted to be able to do it. “If it’s true and you could teach me, maybe I could actually get evidence on Haydon, enough for the cops to arrest and convict him.”
“A man like Haydon Phillips won’t stay in prison and you know it, Grace,” Vittorio said gently. “He’s too good at what he does. The man can be anyone and he’s slippery. I’ve read the reports on him, and we’ve got just about everything possible on him from the time he was first put in a foster home until he shot you.”
She stared up at him, the firelight dancing across her face. When she looked down, she was surprised to see the shadows flickering across her bare breasts. She’d almost forgotten she wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothing. “He said his parents loved him, but were too poor to keep him.”
“He lied to you. You know he lied to you because you heard those lies, cara.”
She flinched at the gentleness in his voice. She’d heard the lies, even as a child, but something had always kept her from challenging Haydon, even way back then. She had stood up for him the first time their foster father beat him. He’d been shocked, but after that, he’d seemed to genuinely try to shield her. For a time, she thought of him as her only family. That hadn’t lasted long.
“You had us investigated? Both of us?”
“That’s how it works. I didn’t give a damn what was found on you, Grace. You were mine no matter what and I made that clear.”
“Even to your mother.”
“Especially to Eloisa. You are capable of having children that can ride shadows. That’s what she was talking about. That’s what is important to her. I want children, but if we can’t have them, we’ll have a good life without them.”
His voice rang with truth. She studied his face. He was still wary. She could see it in his eyes. He hadn’t told her anything to put that look on his face. He had, several times, reiterated that if she knew what he did, what his family did, there was no going back, the consequences to both of them would be dire—at least that was how she interpreted what he said.
“Are you going to show me?” She invited him because she was suddenly certain he was telling the absolute truth, but whatever he hadn’t revealed was going to shake her. She was certain of it.
Without waiting, Vittorio stepped into the largest shadow. Because they were so connected through their shadows, she felt the jolt. That sensation of flying apart. Vittorio completely disappeared and reappeared outside on the patio.
Grace found herself smiling and then laughing. “That’s so cool, Vittorio. I wish I’d known how to do that. I could have gotten away from Haydon and actually lived my life. I love that you can do that. That our children will be able to do it.”
He walked in, that wary look still on his face. “This isn’t an easy life, bella.”
She heard the warning and forced herself to learn it all. “Once you get your reports from the investigators, Vittorio, and everyone concludes the petitioner isn’t lying, why do they turn the results over to the shadow rider?”
“A shadow rider is considered the most important person in the family. When I say family, I’m talking extended family. All the businesses, the bankers, the jewelers, the hotels and casinos are all run by Ferraros. We have family spread throughout several states. There’s a reason for that. Riders are considered so important that, although they are trained in every manner of self-defense, they must have bodyguards with them when they move around a city.”
“And you’re a rider. Stefano and Ricco, all your brothers and Emmanuelle. That’s why you all have bodyguards.”
He nodded and sank to the floor at her feet, pushing her legs apart to sit between them. His hand moved up her right leg slowly, her ankle, her calf, and then caressed the back of her knee to slide up her thigh.
She gasped at the sensations pouring into her. She didn’t want to lose track of what they were discussing, and she knew he could so easily sidetrack her. “You can’t distract me, Vittorio. You still have some revelation you don’t want to tell me, and you need to just get it over with.” She looked down into his face. So gorgeous. It wasn’t just his beautiful, very masculine features, it was the way he was inside. “I’m in love with you. There isn’t anything that you can tell me that is going to change that.”
His eyes met hers in a kind of wary challenge. “And if I told you a shadow rider is essentially an assassin?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Vittorio cursed himself under his breath in both Italian and English. What a complete idiot to blurt the fucking truth out when so far, he’d been careful, choosing every word so she would understand. He could have said a shadow rider administered justice, but no, he had to just come right out and call it what it truly was. He killed people. There was no getting around it. Cousins called him in from New York or Los Angeles and he did his duty. He killed a criminal the law couldn’t touch.
He didn’t take his eyes from her face. She continued looking down at him without blinking, her green eyes wide, looking so shocked he wanted to kiss the look off her face. Her red hair fell in a long slide out of the messy knot she liked to wear in the bathtub or hot tub. Her breasts rose and fell, betraying her agitation. Finally, she shook her head.
“That can’t be true, Vittorio. I don’t believe you.”
“Why wouldn’t you believe me? You’ve believed everything else I’ve told you and you can hear lies. Do I sound like I’m lying?” He did his best not to sound bitter.
He had accepted his life. He was born a rider. He was a damn good rider and more, he was good at his job. He was fast, and he dispensed justice without the criminal feeling pain—even if he felt they deserved it. He was always able to keep his emotions under control. Sometimes the things he read in the reports or saw in person gave him nightmares, but what he did, he wouldn’t do unless he was absolutely sure the criminal had committed the crimes. Still, one could feel bitterness when their entire life was duty and the only thing they’d ever asked for themselves might walk away and take everything with them.
She took a deep breath and shook her head a second time. “Honey, you need to go a little slower. You jumped over something and I’m not computing what you’re saying. I know the heart of you and I’m not wrong. I can’t be wrong. I gave you my absolute trust. I put myself in your hands. I have to believe in you.”
He’d shaken her. Shaken her faith in herself. Shaken her faith in him, but she was determined to hang on, to see it through.
He rubbed her leg because he had to touch her. Had to stay connected. “You’re right, vita mia. I did jump us forward. I’m risking everything telling you about my family. For the first time that I can remember, I’m totally fucking things up when I need to explain everything very carefully to you.”
She leaned toward him. “Start again with the shadow riders. You’re given a report that says absolutely Haydon Phillips is a serial killer. What do you do?”
“The report is given to Stefano. He’s the head of the family.”
“Not Eloisa?”
He shook his head. “She was replaced by Stefano years ago. She was—difficult. As riders, you have to have absolute faith in the head of the family. He has the last word in everything. Every single thing. We all defer to Stefano, which means he carries a tremendous burden. He’s responsible for our safety. For our reputations. He has to make absolutely certain those reports are correct and, in fact, the investigation continues even after the report is given to the shadow riders.”
