“No, I don’t. And Geno would know. He was trained by the Archambaults exclusively from the time he was thirteen until he was twenty-one. At least two trainers were in residence with him until he was of age. Consequently, hebecame one of the fastest thinkers and riders we have. They shaped him into one of us. Geno has always had a gift when it comes to having a sense about people.”
“He knew I wasn’t telling him everything,” she readily admitted. “He was extremely difficult for me to read. He came off very cold, as if he wore a mask. Just like an Archambault. That makes perfect sense.”
She rubbed at her temples. A headache had been there from the moment she woke, just beginning to form at the back of her head, but now it had moved forward with a distinct roar. She felt a little sick and wanted to lie down. Elie was an Archambault. One didn’t show weakness to an Archambault.
“Amara.” Elie’s voice was gentle. “The doctor said there were going to be aftereffects of the poison. Headaches. Nausea. Dizziness. He said to stay out of the shadows for at least a week. No dancing for at least that long. Certainly no traveling. Jean-Claude feels it’s too dangerous for you to remain here in the States and would like you to return home as soon as the doctor gives you his permission to travel.”
She shook her head and immediately subsided against the pillows. “Absolutely not. I have always completed my assignments, and I’ll complete this one. I admit I screwed up, but I was making progress.”
“Jean-Claude is head of the International Council of Riders as well as head of the Archambault family,” Elie reminded gently. “He’s responsible for your life.”
“I’m well aware who he is.” She crossed her arms over her chest, aware she looked stubborn, but she didn’t know how best to appeal to him. Why was he living in the States and riding with the Chicago riders? “Do you have to put everything I tell you in your report?”
Silence stretched between them for so long she wanted to scream. She wasn’t known for her patience, and yet Geno was important to her and so was her reputation. She pressedher lips together and forced herself to wait. Finally, Elie shook his head.
“It’s at my discretion what to include. If you tell me something in confidence, I’ll keep it that way.”
“I saw Geno Ferraro on the street when he was talking to a group of men, and for the first time in my life I was intimidated. Keep in mind, I’m around riders quite often. I trained with Archambaults. I don’t get intimidated. I’d never seen anyone like him before. Not to mention his size. When I was held prisoner and Dario Bosco came into the room, I’ll admit I was scared. I’d heard about his ability to extract information through torture. I was certain Geno wouldn’t do anything like that to me. But then my shadow connected with Geno’s, and I could see inside him.”
She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Her gaze collided with Elie’s. “He was even more frightening than Dario to me. But our shadows just kept tangling, more and more. They were so drawn to one another. I didn’t want it to stop any more than he did. I knew we were supposed to be together. I honestly couldn’t think straight. I’ve always had a very clear mind and I can process information at an extremely rapid rate, but right then, around Geno Ferraro, my brain seemed to short-circuit.”
She dropped her hands to the blanket and spread her fingers wide, shaking her head. “I would never want to admit such a thing to Jean-Claude. I doubt he would understand when I don’t. I wouldn’t want Geno to know, but I’m afraid he did. I think he took unfair advantage when he was interrogating me.” She could feel color creeping up her neck to her face. Blushing. That didn’t happen. Her headache was getting worse. This was a truly humiliating interview, and she hoped she would never have to face Elie Archambault again.
“Geno wasn’t thinking so straight, either, Amara, or he would have known immediately something wasn’t right, and he wouldn’t have threatened to torture you.”
Using the heel of her hand, she rubbed at her forehead in an effort to ease the throbbing ache. Elie was right. If Geno was as clear-thinking as an Archambault, he should have known she wasn’t guilty, yet he had persisted in believing she had something to do with the murders despite her truthful answers. He had been just as affected by their joined shadows as she had been. That made her feel so much better.
Elie sat back in the chair. “Geno Ferraro compromised your shadow.”
Amaranthe assessed his tone. There was a thoughtful note in his voice. Elie was definitely on her side. He had admitted to knowing the Ferraro family very well the moment he entered the room. He was considering how to handle the complaint to Jean-Claude.
“I believe it would prove very useful for you to stay right here with Geno Ferraro. The two of you should work to solve the mystery of who is trying to destroy the riders. Jean-Claude cannot possibly worry about your safety as long as you’re under Geno’s protection. I’m going to send him the report that you never made the complaint and feel that Geno acted within his rights. That there was a misunderstanding. You believe the two of you can resolve this case given time. But, Amara, you will have to reside here. Someone is targeting riders. We don’t have a clue who is doing it. Margo and Eugene may have been older, but they were superb shadow riders. No one should have been able to kill them both. One, perhaps, but both? No.”
“I understand. Geno may think differently.” She hesitated, but she refused to lie to him. Lifting her chin, she met his eyes. “I don’t think he wanted our shadows to tangle together. I believe he’ll find a way to loosen the knots. He allowed it to better hear my answers.”
“Perhaps.” Elie stood. “If he only lightly wrapped his shadow around yours, he’ll be able to get out of it. Otherwise, it will be difficult. At that point, you would be able to bring a very different complaint against him to StefanoFerraro. I think it would be wise of you to do so.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, although none on his face.
“I wouldn’t do that. If he doesn’t want me as a partner, I wouldn’t force him.”
“If he doesn’t want you as a partner, he’s an idiot. It was an honor to meet you, Amara. I’m certain we’ll meet again very soon.” He gave her a rider’s salute and sauntered out, taking his papers with him.
Amaranthe turned over and buried her face in the cool pillows. At least he was going to recommend to Jean-Claude that she stay. Had she been forced to defy the council she would have, but it would have cost her position and she’d fought hard for it.
She desperately needed to go back to sleep. She didn’t want to take anything for her headache, not on top of the silly drug she’d had embedded in the roof of her mouth. Only riders working alone in dire circumstances, those who might be subject to torture with no way to reach a shadow to save themselves, were given a tablet as a last resort. She had never expected to have to use one. Worse, she never expected to place another rider in jeopardy—especially an innocent one.
She covered her eyes and rocked back and forth. The light streaming in through the windows hurt. Everything hurt. Maybe she did need something after all. She wasn’t nearly as tough as she thought she was.
There was a soft knock on the door. She didn’t lift her head or answer.
“Ms. Aubert? I’m Dr. Veneto. I’ve been treating you. I imagine you aren’t feeling the best right at the moment. Is there anything I can do for you?”
She was grateful he spoke softly. She indicated the windows, and he immediately pulled the drapes, darkening the room.
“I hurt everywhere, but the headache is the worst.”
“I can give you something for that.” She felt his fingerson her wrist, taking her pulse, then a stethoscope listening to her heart.
She shook her head. “I just want to sleep.”
