Geno. She heard Stefano calling out. He sounded harsh. A complete authority.Reach out to us. To me. To Amaranthe. You can’t leave her alone. The family needs you. She needs you. Reach for us. Fight.
How close to the surface was the spirit of someone who died? Close enough to call them back when doing heart compressions? How much of the poisonous compound had gotten into Geno’s bloodstream and been carried to his heart?
Nicoletta was nearly spit from a shadow and slid on her knees to land beside Stefano. “Doc says to inject this straight into his heart, Stefano. It may or may not work. It’s the only syringe we have capable of traveling in the shadows, so make it count.”
Stefano didn’t hesitate. He took the syringe from her, removed the cap from the long needle with his teeth and plunged it straight into Geno’s chest, directly over his heart.
Amaranthe bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out. Stefano was the most decisive person she’d ever come across. Ruthless. Just like Geno. The two were cut from the same cloth. Determined—so determined she couldn’t imagine Stefano losing his cousin. Stefano just wouldn’t let Geno die. No one dared disobey the man.
Her heart pounded and her nails bit into her thigh as she stared down at Geno’s gray face. His chest suddenly heaved,and his eyes flew open. Taviano caught Amaranthe and dragged her back away from Geno as he began to instinctively fight.
“Geno, settle. We’re here with you.” Stefano’s voice was absolutely calm. “Don’t move around. We don’t know how this poison works. We’re transporting you out of here fast, so lay back and let us carry you.”
“Amara.La mia danzatrice ombra.Where is she?” He had to reach for his voice, and it sounded far away to all of them, especially Amaranthe.
“Right here, Geno.” She knelt beside him again.
He held out his hand. “He didn’t touch you with that blade?” His voice was very gravelly, but still faded, as if he were far away.
She put her hand in his immediately, but he didn’t close his fingers around hers. She looked up at Stefano for reassurance.
“Get him to the car,” Stefano ordered, circling Amaranthe’s shoulders with one arm. “The doc’s waiting for him. He’s got the antidote, and he can bring Geno back as good as new,” he assured.
The riders lifted Geno and stepped into the shadow tube that led straight to the street where the car was waiting. Stefano and Amaranthe followed. Amaranthe was dismayed to smell the coppery scent of blood and occasionally catch of glimpse of dark splashes of red as she sped through the tunnel.
On the ride back to Geno’s apartment, she stayed silent, trying to puzzle out how Stefano fit in with Jean-Claude and the International Council. A member of the Ferraro family sat on the council. Still, she was certain, it was Stefano who was held in the highest of regard and consulted in secret. She knew only because she stayed in the background, one of the council’s hunters. Was it possible that Stefano was a hunter?
She studied him carefully under veiled lashes. He had far too many duties. She had no idea how fast he was in theshadows, but he certainly had the brains for it. He was shrewd and calculating. He was able to connect telepathically with others, strongly enough that she worried he might be able to catch her thoughts if she wasn’t cautious. But no, he couldn’t stay in too many places for long enough to be an elite hunter. He didn’t have six months or more to give to that kind of investigation. What did he do for the council? For Jean-Claude and the Archambaults?
“Stefano, when Geno is better, will you please talk to him and make him understand he can’t keep doing this? This is the second time now.”
Stefano arched an eyebrow at her. He knew perfectly well what she meant. He had that look, the one that could make her temper boil over. She had one. A hot one. She always kept it under control, but men looking superior tended to set it off. Stefano had that look down to perfection.
Amaranthe let her breath out slowly. The only person in the world Geno might listen to was Stefano. She needed to stay in his good graces. Rumor had it that his wife was the sweetest woman on the face of the earth and would never defy him. Maybe she really wasn’t cut out to be Geno’s wife. Her heart stuttered. Clenched hard. She’d made up her mind that they fit. She belonged with him. She knew she was so much better with him—and he was so much better with her.
She took another breath. Let it out. “He keeps putting his life in jeopardy, Stefano. He risks himself all the time.” Her throat closed, making it nearly impossible to breathe. “He’s so careless with his own life.” Tears burned behind her eyes, something no elite rider would ever do in front of Stefano Ferraro.
She looked down at Geno’s face. His eyes were closed again, those dark lashes standing out starkly against his skin. Even unconscious he looked tough. She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “You aren’t invincible, Geno. You can die just like anyone else. You have to stop throwing your life away.”
She couldn’t look at Stefano even though she spoke to him. “I think a part of him wants to die. Or at least he doesn’t care if he does.” To her horror she couldn’t keep the anguish out of her voice. Stefano had to hear it. She was making a first-class fool of herself.
“Amaranthe.”
Stefano’s voice was gentle. That only made the tears burn closer.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
That was a command. No one disobeyed Stefano. He might sound gentle and caring, but he was definitely making a demand. She swallowed hard and lifted her chin, steadied herself and then raised her lashes to meet those dark blue eyes.
“Geno would never leave this world willingly now that he’s found you, but he will protect you with his life just as I would protect Francesca. That’s who he is, Amara. Fundamentally. At the very core of his being. Nothing I say or do will ever stop him, nor would I want to. He’ll protect his family as I protect mine. He’ll always put you first. You would have died if that blade had sliced into you.”
She couldn’t deny the truth of that. Pressing her fingertips to her throbbing temples, she just shook her head. “I can’t watch him do this to himself over and over.”
“Yes, you can. You’re strong. That’s why you’re his perfect partner. That’s why he fell so fast and completely for you. He needs a strong woman. Someone who can and will stand up to him. Geno doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his emotions, Amara. You’re it for him. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t worried about him before. I knew he was reckless and didn’t give a damn whether he lived or died. We were all watching him closely. He didn’t feel he had much to live for. But the moment he met you, all that changed.”
The car pulled up to the private entrance of the hotel. Amaranthe could see that several of Geno’s cousins and bodyguards were blocking the area around the sidewalk and door, so the men had a clear path to carry Geno fromthe car to the private elevator. She slipped from the car, wishing she believed the things Stefano said were true. Since Geno had met her, he’d nearly died twice.
The doors to the elevator closed noiselessly, and the car took them swiftly up to the tenth floor, where the doctor waited for them. Amaranthe trailed after the men as they hurried with their burden to place him gently on the waiting bed. Two nurses immediately went to work, finding veins, placing IVs, taking blood pressure, quietly reporting results to the doctor, who was already bending over Geno to examine him.
