Shadow Rider (43 page)

Each of them had been sent away for a year at a time to train elsewhere in the world. Ricco had come back scarred, tough and cold as ice. He lived on the edge all the time and Stefano regarded him as a ticking time bomb. Vittorio was a peacemaker, but something burned bright and savage under all that cool. Giovanni was the most volatile. One moment he was rational and the next his temper burned out of control. Taviano appeared to be gentle. Kind. He had a sense of humor. But he wasn't any of those things as a rule. Stefano had tried to find out what had happened to each of
them in those years they'd spent with other trainers, but none of his siblings would answer him.

He'd managed to keep Emmanuelle home by insisting on training her himself. When his mother insisted she go abroad, he went with her. He stayed glued to her. It was too late to stop whatever was happening to his brothers in their training, but not what might happen to her.

Stefano had been too strong, too ruthless even as a teenager, to put up with any of the trainers putting their hands on him. He'd earned the reputation of being dangerous before he was fifteen. His brothers were every bit as dangerous as he was now, but it had taken those years away to shape them into the killers hiding behind their handsome faces.

“She belongs to us,” Stefano said. “We'll look after her, Tav.” It was a concession to his brother, and they both knew Taviano would have defied Stefano's authority and just done what he thought was right. “I wouldn't have put her with Lucia and Amo if I hadn't meant to put her under our direct protection.”

“I know that,” Taviano said. “I'm going to get rid of her clothes and I would appreciate both of you leaving the room.”

“You want me to do that? I have Francesca and I'm not in the least bit looking at her like a woman,” Stefano said. “She's a child that needs help.”

“I know what she is. Just go.”

Stefano shook his head but didn't protest. He needed to hear Francesca's voice, but he couldn't call her. He'd gotten rid of the burner phone. They never kept them once they reached the airport. There was no talking to her, not even from Franco's phone. He needed her tonight. The things done to that child. She was a beautiful girl who would forever bear the scars of three sick, very brutal men. Had they not gotten there in time, she would be in the hands of Benito Valdez. The social worker who had contacted them thought she owed them, but in fact, Stefano knew it was the other way around. They would be forever in her debt. Nicoletta was a shadow rider just as
Francesca was. She was invaluable to his family. That included the various extended family they had.

It seemed to take forever for Giovanni to get back to their private jet. By that time the girl had awakened and she was very scared. He'd tried to go into the cabin to help Taviano with her, but that only agitated her more. He couldn't blame her. The gang her uncles had run with had prostitution rings, and it was rumored they were involved in human trafficking. She clearly thought she was being transported to some foreign country where she'd never be heard from again.

Taviano was patient with her, his voice low and gentle as he continually reassured her. He clearly was afraid to leave her alone, afraid of what she might do to herself.

“We'll need a doctor waiting,” he told Stefano.

“Already done. Emme has already talked to Lucia and Amo and explained things. They're willing for her to live with them and they'll share their last name. Emme said Vittorio is working on the papers tonight. We'll have a new identity for her and a background no one will be able to shake within a few days. Benito Valdez will never find her.”

“He'll keep looking,” Taviano said, looking down at Nicoletta. She was exotic looking, with thick, luxurious hair and very large, heavily lashed eyes and a generous mouth. She would haunt Valdez. He'd seen her, watched her blossom into a woman. He'd acquired a taste for her, and he would keep looking.

“Let him look. She'll be safe, Tav. No one will find her in our neighborhood, especially not Benito Valdez.”

That small exchange seemed to comfort Nicoletta. Stefano couldn't imagine what she was going through. They were perfect strangers to her. She'd seen them emerge from the shadows and kill her uncles. They'd been fast and just as brutal as the gang they'd taken her from, no matter how elegantly they were dressed. She had no idea what they were going to do with her.

“You'll be all right,” Stefano assured her from the doorway
when her gaze jumped to his face. She looked pale and defeated, so bruised it hurt to look at her. “You're never going to have a normal life, not with what you've gone through, but you'll know love. Lucia and Amo are two of the best people we know. I know you're afraid, but we'll see you through this. And we'll watch over you. That I can promise you.”

S
tefano stepped off the elevator into his apartment, exhausted, nearly forty-eight hours without sleep. It had taken time to get Nicoletta settled. The doctor had examined her thoroughly and then sedated her. She would be all right physically given a month or so of resting and healing, but he admitted the emotional scars weren't going to be so easy to rectify.

He'd done the best he could for the young teen. She was safe in Lucia and Amo's home, not quite as scared, but definitely apprehensive. He was certain she'd give them a chance rather than try to run. Vittorio was keeping an eye on her while Taviano and Giovanni slept.

Stefano wished he'd called Francesca to make certain she would be home. He needed her. Really needed her when he'd never needed anyone. There was something incredibly soothing about her. She felt like . . . home.

He inhaled her scent and everything in him settled. He hadn't known his belly was in knots or that the relief could make him weak. He hadn't consciously worried that she might have left him, but he was asking a lot of her. She had learned things about his life—their life. She'd overheard his mother say ugly things, and Barry Anthon was in town. She'd seen him become violent and then he'd left her to go out of town.

She came out of the kitchen, her gaze moving over his face in a slow, careful perusal. Then it drifted lower, taking him
in, looking for injuries. She stepped close. “Honey.” Just that. One word. Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck so that she linked her fingers together at his nape. “Thank you. She's safe. Nicoletta. Emme said you got her out.”

She
thanked
him. For doing his job. She looked at him with stars in her eyes and a soft, killer smile that was going to be the fucking end of him. She looked at him as if he could solve the world's problems in a few hours, fight the bad guys and still be home in time for dinner. He liked that look a lot.

He framed her face with both hands and brought his mouth down on hers. She tasted like love. Like sex. Like perfection. Once he started kissing her, he couldn't stop. He found himself devouring her. Exchanging breath. Telling her without words that forty-eight hours without her was too damned long.

For the first time in his life that he could remember, he allowed himself to sink into someone else's strength. Seeing a seventeen-year-old girl beaten and abused physically, sexually and emotionally had torn him up far more than he wanted to admit to himself. He'd held himself aloof, keeping under control, using his rigid discipline to keep from seeing the look in her eyes when she'd turned the knife on herself. Had Taviano not been there, she would be dead.

His eyes burned and he couldn't breathe because of the raw lump blocking his throat. He lifted his head, looking down at her, into her eyes. He saw only love there.

“It was bad?” she whispered, pressing closer.

“It was bad,” he agreed. “I don't fucking understand. I'll never understand how anyone could do that to a child. Any child. Any woman.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I'm wiped,
dolce cuore
, absolutely wiped.”

“Go take a shower,” she whispered. “I'll fix something light and then you can go to bed. You need to sleep.”

Fussing over him. Taking care of him. Stefano enfolded her in his arms, keeping her close to his heart. Burying his face in the luxury of her thick, silky hair, he just held her, needing to feel her soft body imprinted on his.

Francesca didn't pull away or try to hurry him. She held him. Tight. Breathing him in the way he was breathing her in.

“I missed you, Stefano,” she said softly, the murmur nearly lost against his suit jacket. “I couldn't sleep at night without you.”

“I worried about you,” he admitted, one hand sliding up the curve of her spine to bury his fingers in her wealth of hair. “I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, or if you did manage to sleep, you'd have nightmares. I'm sorry I couldn't call you.” He'd never thought much about that mandate until he'd wanted to reach out to his woman.

“No.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “Emme explained how important it was that everyone think you were here, with me.” She went up on her toes and pressed kisses along the line of his jaw. “Your safety is the most important thing. I'm just so grateful that you do what you do so that girl is safe.”

His heart clenched hard in his chest. “
Amore mio
, this is the first time in my entire career I've done something like this. Mostly, what I do is eliminate someone like Barry Anthon. Someone untouchable by the law. Or I recover an elderly woman's purse with her last few dollars in it. I'm not a hero. Don't think I am,” he warned.

She laughed softly and pulled out of his arms. “You're
my
hero, Stefano, and you always will be. Go shower. We can talk when you're lying in bed and drifting off.”

“When did you get so bossy?” He wanted to hold her forever. Take her into the shower with him, which would lead to interesting things. His cock jerked at the thought.

She dodged his outstretched hand. “Someone has to take care of you.” She reached out and trailed her fingertips over the growing bulge in his trousers. “I'm a full-service kind of woman. Go shower, honey, and let me take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I
need
to. You always take care of me. It's my turn.”

He fucking
loved
that. He watched her go into the kitchen before turning to the master bedroom. He'd wanted a home
his entire life. He hadn't known love or laughter until he'd visited his aunts and uncles and realized his cousins had something important and valuable in their lives that his siblings and he didn't. Until he'd gone home with Cencio and been introduced to his mother and father. Lucia and Amo were loving and warm all the time. Stefano wanted that for his brothers and sister. He wanted that for himself.

“Francesca.” He murmured her name aloud as he stepped under the soothing hot water. It poured over him and pounded into his aching muscles. He didn't know what he'd ever done to deserve her, but he had her and that was all that mattered to him.

He took his time because the water felt good, washing his sins away along with his exhaustion. He dressed in loose-fitting drawstring silk pants and a tight, ribbed wifebeater before padding barefoot into the kitchen.

Francesca was humming softly to herself, her back to him, long hair flowing almost to her waist, as she mixed the pasta. His shadow connected with hers and she looked up instantly with a smile. “Hey, honey. Feel better?”

He nodded and kept going straight to her. “You brought in groceries.” She had made pasta with grilled tiger shrimp and fresh parmesan cheese. A salad sat on the smaller dining table in between the dishes already set out. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table along with two wineglasses.

“I had to get groceries if I was going to be cooking for us. I really enjoy cooking, Stefano.” She flashed a smile. “It gives me a chance to show off.”

He swept her hair off her neck and over one shoulder so he could bend down and kiss her neck, sending a little shiver down her spine. “I like the idea of you cooking for us. Feels like home.” He took the bowl of pasta from her and carried it over to the table. “What have you been up to while I've been gone, other than grocery shopping?” He narrowed his eyes. “And you took Emilio and Enzo of course.”

“Actually, Emmanuelle and Enrica went with me,” she
corrected, sliding into the chair across from his. “Enrica is all business when we're out somewhere, but so funny when we're alone. I really like her.”

He nodded as he served both of them pasta. “Emilio, Enzo and Enrica were always getting into trouble when they were teenagers. Enrica used to sneak out her window to go on a date, because if her brothers or cousins knew, she always had a noisy escort with her.”

Francesca laughed. “I can't imagine how awful you all were. You boys seem to have the girls outnumbered.”

“Thankfully. We like to keep an eye on our women and we can't do that if there's too many of them.”

“Such a chauvinist. Emmanuelle was helping me learn what you all do for those in the neighborhood.”

His head jerked up, the smile fading. He was going to strangle his sister with his bare hands. “What the fuck does that mean?”

She winced. “Seriously, Stefano, you're going to have to clean up your language before we have children. We just answered some of the calls and checked on people. There's a flu going around and it hit some of the elderly hard. We went to their homes and brought them medicine, or whatever else they needed. Don't tell me you don't do that, because Emme gave you away. My big macho badass takes soup to Agnese Moretti, the schoolteacher, and the homeless woman, Dina, as well as Mr. Lozzi and Theresa Vitale. I sat with each of them and heard all about my man and what a saint he is.” She grinned at him. “Actually, Agnese didn't mention the word
saint
—that was Signora Vitale. I believe Agnese said there was hope for you yet.”

He couldn't help himself; he leaned back in his chair and laughed. That was exactly what his old schoolteacher would say about him. And she'd say it in her prissy schoolmarm voice that told everyone they'd better not contradict her because she was always right.
Dio
, but he was happy to be home.

“That woman. Is she very ill?” He couldn't help the concern.
He had a special place in his heart for Agnese. Most of the neighborhood did. Especially those she'd taught with such gruff compassion.

“Not as sick as Signora Vitale. I had Enrica call a doctor just to be safe. She's in her eighties and the flu can be difficult on the elderly. The doc said with a little care she should be fine. Her grandson is staying with her. He promised to heat up the soup and feed her every two hours, even if she takes just a couple of bites.”

Stefano shook his head. “So you met Bruno. Was he disrespectful? Did you get the impression he'd actually take care of his grandmother?”

Francesca nodded. “Absolutely. Your ‘talk' with him must have helped, because he really listened to the doctor and seemed genuinely concerned. I have no doubt that he loves her.”

“There was never a doubt about that, only that he was a selfish brat. She gave him every damn thing he ever wanted, even when she couldn't afford it and had to sacrifice. He never seemed to notice. I just pointed that out to him—that and explained the consequences of dealing drugs in our neighborhood or anywhere else for that matter. I also promised him that if he went to prison on a drug sale charge, I could still reach him there.”

“Could you do that?”

“I'm a shadow rider,
bambina
—of course I could get to him in prison.” He took a second helping of pasta. “This is good, Francesca, really good.”

“So explain to me all about riding shadows. What that means. Why you can't say anything until we're married. Clearly we're going to be married.”

He put down his fork and studied her face. She wasn't looking to bolt. She was unafraid and very accepting. She already had an idea of what he did and she not only accepted it; she made it clear she stood behind him all the way. He either trusted her or he didn't. He had asked her to trust him blindly and she'd done so.

“You have to be certain,
bella
. There's no going back from this. There would be . . . consequences.”

“I think I got that, Stefano.” She put her fork down as well. “Are you finished? If you want, we can lie down and you can tell me.”

He had the beginnings of a headache, mostly from being tired. He was usually good at forty-eight hours without sleep but anything beyond that could start taking its toll on his body, especially if he'd been shadow riding. “Thanks,
dolce cuore
, the bed sounds great.”

“I'll just get these dishes done. It won't take me long.”

“Leave them. The service will do them.”

She smiled and shook her head. Stefano knew she wasn't comfortable with his money or anyone waiting on her. The elevator
pinged
, his only warning. He snagged the gun taped beneath the table and was on his feet. “Were you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head, fear creeping into her eyes. He hated that. Hated that she would ever need to feel afraid of anything. She was his. His woman had a lot to contend with, but fear shouldn't be one of them. “Get behind the counter and stay there until I tell you it's safe.”

Francesca didn't argue with him. She nodded, her face pale, her eyes haunted. Anger churned in his gut as he stepped out from behind the table and moved with the shadows through the dining room toward the entrance. If Barry Anthon or any of his men had managed to penetrate his security, he'd be shocked. The hotel was a fortress. Getting up to his penthouse without detection was nearly impossible unless you were family and had the codes to the elevators.

His breath hissed out of his lungs, and his anger boiled to the surface. He stepped into the great room, locking his gun on his target, uncaring that his mother gasped and took a step back.

“What the fuck?” he demanded. “You don't even have the common courtesy to call first?” He raised his voice. “It's Eloisa, Francesca.” He didn't tell her to join him because he
could see his mother's agitation. She'd worked herself up to one of her self-righteous lectures and was fully prepared to be cutting, rude and ugly, just as she'd been about his future wife. Francesca didn't need to hear any more.

“How dare you, Stefano?” Eloisa snapped. “I understand now why you and Taviano skipped the briefing altogether. You endangered
all
of us, the entire family, with your recklessness, and now you're hiding up here in your little love nest, afraid to face me because you know what you did was careless and stupid.”