Geno’s dark eyes were cold as ice as he shifted his gaze over Elie. “I knew they hadn’t been in a car accident. Well, there had been a car wreck. They told a partial truth. I knew it was a partial truth. My parents were wearing their shadow rider clothing and they had come through the shadows. Other riders were there concealed in the shadows.”
Amaranthe held up her hand. “Wait a minute, Geno. Your father was taken into the shadows after he was in that condition? With his leg already so torn? I thought he was driven back to your house. Are you certain?”
Geno found his fingers closing into fists just as they had that night. He had to fight to relax his hands. He wasn’t thirteen and traumatized as he had been that night. He had gone down to their private parking garage. All their cars were accounted for. A day later, one of their cars, the Cadillac, was mysteriously towed to the garage, smashed, withblood on the driver’s side. It had been just fine and in the garage when he saw it the night of his father’s surgery. Geno recounted the story to them.
“They lied to me and to the other riders. I don’t know who helped them cover up whatever really happened, but they did a thorough job of it.” He glanced at Stefano and then away, ashamed that he had kept the truth from his cousin.
Stefano gave him an enigmatic smile. “We all cover up for our family members, Geno. If it was true, and your father was trained as one of these specialized riders, it’s possible council members covered for him.”
“They wouldn’t have any business taking him through the shadows with a severe injury,” Geno objected. “They’d know better. He would lose massive amounts of blood.”
“They would expect him to suicide if he was caught by another rider,” Elie pointed out. “They wouldn’t want a trail leading home. They would take him through the shadows and, if he survived, come up with an explanation for his injuries.”
“That doesn’t explain the Croatia riders,” Stefano pointed out. “Unless their parents had a tie to the Archambaults. This many years later it would be difficult to find it, especially if the council refused to answer any questions.”
“It isn’t even the same individuals on the council,” Elie pointed out.
“I’m not eager to share my family history with the council at this moment,” Geno said. “Nor do I want them to dictate to Amaranthe based on what they conclude if we share partial information. I want her to stay with me and give our relationship a chance.”
“I think you’ve just about compromised her shadow in every way you could, Geno,” Stefano pointed out. “Even the Archambaults can’t argue with that.”
Geno couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction that swept over him. Amaranthe rubbed at her head again and he needed to shut this down so she could rest. “I think sheneeds to lie down in a dark room for a little while. We can meet for dinner in a couple of nights and pick up where we left off. That will give us time to think about what we do know and what we need to know. Stefano, that gives you a chance to go home and see Francesca, and Elie, you can be with Brielle. I know both of you dislike being away from your wives for too long.”
Stefano rose immediately. “Forgive me, Amara. I should have noticed you were getting tired. I think Geno has devised an excellent plan.”
Geno frowned. He had known Stefano his entire life, and for the first time, his cousin appeared uneasy and eager to leave. Geno had the impression he wanted to tell him something but was holding back.
Stefano? Do you know more about this situation and don’t want to say anything in front of the others?
Stefano didn’t look at him. Didn’t even glance at him. He continued walking toward the elevator.No. I’m not sure why you would think that.
Geno’s unease increased, his gut knotting in the way it did when things weren’t right. What was he thinking? Stefano was the best man he knew. If he had any suspicions, he would want to check them out before he presented them to Geno.
He knew Amaranthe had caught his brief prickle of unease, and before she could say anything, Geno called after his cousin. “As always, Stefano, you came when I needed you. I appreciate you. Elie, thank you, from both of us. Tell Valentino and Dario I’ll explain as much as possible to Amara and will formally introduce them in a couple of days.”
He ignored the way Amaranthe went very still in his mind, as if he, once again, had come under suspicion just by mentioning Valentino Saldi and Dario Bosco. He couldn’t really blame her. It wasn’t as if those names weren’t in the news—and not in good ways. He didn’t point out to her that the members of the Ferraro family were assassins, but the law would treat them as murderers just as quickly. Theymight look like glamourous playboys flying around the world in private jets, drawing as much attention to themselves as possible to make headlines, but Geno had learned they weren’t all that much different from Valentino and Dario.
•••
I’d like to see your home if I’m going to be staying here,” Amaranthe told Geno after the others left them.
She was certain Geno had given them some silent signal, but she hadn’t caught it. He wanted them gone because he knew she had a blazing headache. She wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her, and that made her nearly as uncomfortable as sharing the information they passed back and forth with the two men.
She got that Stefano was his cousin and he was there to help Geno solve the murders—and prevent any others—but at the same time, for her entire life, it had been drilled into her that she was never to give out information. She was to suicide before revealing details on any mission. Every cell in her body rebelled against sharing with anyone other than Geno. She knew it was impossible to keep details from him. Their shadows were tied together. Already, he was in her mind and could pick up information without her verbalizing.
“The others had been staying downstairs. I own a triplex apartment with a full-time doorman and concierge. The apartment encompasses the eighth, ninth and tenth floors and has eleven thousand square feet of living space. The eighth floor has four guest bedrooms with en suite baths. There’s a recreation room with a terrace overlooking the water.”
Geno rattled off the bare facts like a tour guide, but he didn’t offer to take her down to the eighth floor to show her the guest bedrooms or the recreation room with its terrace.
“Geno.” Amaranthe kept her voice gentle. She didn’t want to sound as if she thought he’d lost his mind. She tilted her head up to look at him. He was extremely tall incomparison to her. She could have found him intimidating for that alone, especially since he seemed to be all muscle.
“You do realize that a doorman and a concierge have no hope of keeping a shadow rider from entering your home anytime they want to come in. You do it all the time when you’re tasked with bringing a criminal to justice.”
“I do realize that, Danzatrice Ombra. My cousin Ricco, out of necessity, invented a very handy item that blocked any shadow from getting through it. It fits beneath the door and isn’t easily removed. One can’t tell it’s there. It certainly makes our homes and bedrooms far safer.”
Relief swept through her. At least he was safe. His bodyguards couldn’t possibly protect him from a shadow rider. Hopefully, he was right, and this device could. “Ricco didn’t feel as if he needed to share this invention with the council?”
“No. We rarely share our inventions with the council, particularly when, in Ricco’s case, more than one council member was involved in harming him when he was young.”
