Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“Elie, you should sit this one out,” Geno said. “I don’t like that any of you are in danger.”
“Actually,” Amaranthe said, “all riders and their families are in danger. The target is your territory right now, Geno, but I guarantee, Stefano’s is next if it hasn’t already started. Or your cousins’ in Los Angeles or San Francisco. It’s happening in Europe as well. This is a vendetta, but the council isn’t certain who’s behind it. It’s that subtle.”
“If it came to their attention,” Elie asked, “you had to have seen this before it started here in New York.”
Geno felt her reluctance to impart information. As a special investigator, one working alone for the Archambaults and the International Council, she had to always keep her thoughts private. It was no wonder she was required to carry a fail-safe with her in the form of a poisonous wafer. She knew too many secrets the shadow riders as a community couldn’t afford to have get out.
Geno struggled not to allow negative emotion for the International Council into his mind. He didn’t like the fact that his woman was sent out with a poisonous pill to take if she should be captured in order to protect the institute. He didn’t want to chance Amara believing he didn’t think she could handle her job. She was alone when she worked, without any backup. In his opinion, that shouldn’t be. He sided with Elie on the way Jean-Claude had arbitrarily decided her life for her.
“Amaranthe?” Elie persisted. “We need the facts if we’re going to help put this together. Were your orders to keep everything from Geno or to share with him?”
She pressed her fingertips to the pressure points around her eyes. Geno felt the ache gathering in her head. She was still feeling the effects of the poison just as he was, but the antidote had worked. He was much larger, and his mass alone, even though he had taken the brunt of the poison, had allowed him to break it down quickly and recover faster than Amaranthe.
Amaranthe’s gaze flicked to him. You nearly died, Geno. You should never have taken that chance.
You would have died. He couldn’t help the censure in his voice.
She ignored him and turned her attention back to Elie and Stefano. “The International Council was contacted by the family of riders from Croatia. Like the Ferraro family here in New York, they are extremely small, only four riders for a large area. They noticed petty crimes, mostly among the young teens. In the beginning the crimes were outside their territory, but they were aware of them, then they began happening in their territory. Thefts. Robberies of shops. Tourists no longer safe. Mistrust spread where there had always been goodwill within their territory. The first murder was outside the territory, a priest. Then the greeters, the parents of the shadow riders, were murdered.”
“A priest?” Geno echoed. An alarm went off. A young priest had been present the night his father’s leg had been amputated. He had been giving his father the last rites when Geno had been forcibly removed from the room. “Father Brennen should be checked on. I should have thought to send protection. What the hell is wrong with me?”
“Who is Father Brennen?” Amaranthe asked.
“He gave my father the last rites when his leg was amputated all those years ago. My mother’s cousins, Viola and Noemi, were the nurses attending the surgery.” Geno hastily texted several of his men to get to the rectory to check on the priest and stay to ensure his safety. “It may have nothing whatsoever to do with what happened that night, but it seems too big of a coincidence that both women were murdered and so were my parents.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Elie said. “At least not that big.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Geno studied Amaranthe’s composed features for a long time before he allowed the pieces to click into place. “You had no way of knowing what happened when I was thirteen and my parents turned over leadership to me. As far as the Archambaults and Jean-Claude knew, my father was in a car accident. That was what everyone was told, including me. I suspected this attack on my parents stemmed from that night only because the murders tied together. But you didn’t have that information. You weren’t even born when my father handed leadership over to me. You couldn’t possibly have known of that connection. How could you have chosen to come to New York?”
There was silence in the room. The sun shone through the wall of windows. The tiled floor and high ceiling with the wide-open spaces soothed him. He needed the minimalistic appearance his home offered. Simple artistic design. He was a big man and he needed space to move. Everywhere he looked the glass opened his home to the outside. At times—like now—he needed those views just to breathe.