Amaranthe flicked her gaze to Taviano and Nicoletta, the only other individuals at the table who seemed to have the same information Stefano had. Nicoletta had shifted her body to partially conceal her husband from most of those seated across from them. Amaranthe could see him perfectly. There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. His breathing was elevated. His heart was racing. Nicoletta spoke softly to him, whispering in his ear, her entire focus on him.
Geno, look at Taviano. Something’s very wrong. Stefano would never betray you or your family. If you had to hold back information from Stefano, you would do it for only one reason—the protection of Salvatore or Lucca. He’s protecting Taviano. He’s not going to back down no matter how much he might want to.
Amaranthe tried to be the voice of reason. Geno was hurt. Stefano had been the one constant in his life, big brother, father, the one person who hadn’t abandoned him. In that one moment, he felt all the emotions he had when his father and mother had closed their door and never once spoke to him as parents again. He’d been locked out of their hearts. In some ways, Geno would forever be that child believing he had done something wrong, that he wasn’t good enough, that he was undeserving of love. Now Stefano had rejected him just as surely as his parents had.
No one else would see it that way, but Amaranthe was in his mind, and she saw that thirteen-year-old boy’s entire world crumbling. He loved Stefano and had believed in him when he didn’t believe in anyone else.
Geno pressed his hand tighter over hers, so that her palm dug into the muscle of his thigh. She knew he wasn’t aware he was doing so. She poured reassurance into his mind. Shepoured herself into him, giving him more of her than she ever had. She detested that he felt so alone and abandoned—that he was hurt by his cousin.
She didn’t want to remind him again that he would protect Lucca and Salvatore because she knew he thought of himself as more of a sibling than a cousin to Stefano. The knife was sharp, and it had sliced deep.
Geno dragged his gaze from Stefano and rested it thoughtfully, speculatively on Taviano. His brain worked at high speed, and he was coming to conclusions just as she was doing. Stefano stood abruptly, the chair scraping along the floor, drawing all eyes to him.
“Do you really want to do this with me?”
“Yeah, Stefano.” Geno rose as well. “More than anything, I really want to do this with you.”
Amaranthe realized he did. Geno was that hurt. Anger layered over the hurt to protect him. The fighter in him was eager to do battle, to feel the satisfaction of physical combat. That same eagerness was on Stefano despite the surface sophistication. He seemed to need the physical battle just as much as Geno did.
Shockingly, it was Nicoletta who took charge. “Stop it, both of you. Geno, the information you’re looking for that the investigators didn’t find is quite simple. There was a fourth family of riders in Australia some time ago. They no longer exist. I believe they covered Queensland. Their actual territory was along the coast near Cairns. The family name was Boutler. None of them are left.”
Amaranthe studied Nicoletta’s features. She was a beautiful young woman. There was defiance in her posture. Her chin was up, and she showed the same protective trait toward Taviano that Stefano was showing.
Taviano is showing every sign of PTSD, Geno. Don’t ask him any questions. Direct your questions to Nicoletta. Be gentle.
Amaranthe willed Geno to listen to her. He just couldn’tmake the rift worse between him and Stefano. Sometimes things were difficult to repair.
“Do you know when the family died out, Nicoletta?” Geno asked, ignoring Stefano.
“It was approximately eighteen years ago. I don’t know much more. I’m sure your investigators can find out further details.”
“Thank you,” Geno said. “I appreciate you letting me know, especially since I’m trying to discover who murdered my parents, and clearly the lives of my brothers are at stake.” He looked around the room. “If you’ll excuse me.” He kept possession of Amaranthe’s hand, forcing her to stand as well. “Enjoy the food. I’m still very tired, and I need to lie down for a while.” He turned and left the room, taking her with him, not so much as glancing at Stefano.
Amaranthe moved up under his shoulder as they stepped onto the elevator together. It surprised her that he didn’t take the stairs, given that he needed physical activity. Instead of punching the floor above for his room he punched the ground floor.
“I need to get out of here.”
She wrapped her arm around his waist. “It’s sometimes easier to breathe outdoors, isn’t it? We can walk in the park or along the lake.”
“I should have grabbed your coat.”
“I’ll be warm enough.” She wasn’t dressed for the weather, but she didn’t care. She’d snuggle closer to him.
“There are shops. We can buy you a coat.”
She hid her smile against his ribs. He didn’t think anything of spending money on a coat she didn’t really need. She already had a perfectly good jacket. Still, she wanted him out of the house as quickly as possible. The confrontation with Stefano had been brief, but it had taken a toll. It was so unexpected and out of character for both men.
They kept their heads down as they emerged onto the street via the private entrance. She had no idea how Fieroand Donte Latini knew they were leaving the building, but they were already outside, lounging against the wall as if they were just checking out their phones when they were clearly waiting for Geno to emerge.
“Which one of my brothers texted you?” Geno demanded.
Fiero smirked. “Both.”
“You should have,” Donte pointed out, all business. “You have Amara with you. These little bastards are coming at our family hard. Now that they know you’re going to get married, they’ll be even more determined to kill you—or her.”
Geno nodded his agreement. “I wasn’t thinking, Donte. Sometimes I just need to be outside.”
“Leonardo and Bravo are with us as well. We aren’t taking any chances with your lives,” Fiero said. “They’re scouting in either direction.”
