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)
“Jean-Claude received an urgent call from Stefano Ferraro on your behalf. He filed a report, which I have here for you to go over and add to. Before we get started, I need to inform you that I rarely act in the official capacity as an Archambault. I live in Chicago and work as a rider for the Chicago Ferraro family. Essentially, that would make Stefano my boss. I am, however, an Archambault, and I would never betray the code of my family. If you prefer someone else to give a ruling on this matter, I will inform Jean-Claude and he’ll send someone immediately.”
“I didn’t ask Stefano to file a complaint on my behalf.”
“Apparently, Geno Ferraro did.”
“I’ll have to take that up with Mr. Ferraro.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Her heart dropped. For a moment her lungs refused to work. “I don’t understand. Are you saying Geno Ferraro won’t talk to me, or he can’t talk to me?”
“It’s imperative we stay on track here, Ms. Aubert. These are serious charges being made against Geno Ferraro. Torture. Consorting with criminals. You did attempt suicide. You wouldn’t have done so unless you felt there was no other way out for you.”
“I have no complaint, Mr. Archambault. If I had one, I would have filed it myself.” She was desperate to know Geno’s condition.
“Please call me Elie. These charges must be dealt with. Jean-Claude is not going to be satisfied after reading this report that nothing was done.”
“Elie, then. If anyone was at fault, it was me. And call me Amara.”
“How were you at fault, Amara?”
“I was instructed to go to Geno Ferraro if I ran into any problem. I was told he was the one man I could trust. Instead, when I had the opportunity to speak with him, I didn’t take it. I doubted him and in doing so put him in an untenable position. He believed me to be a traitor to the shadow riders and a party to those who murdered his parents. It certainly appeared that way. When I refused to answer his questions and he knew I was withholding information, he acted as if he might torture me. He didn’t. At the last moment, I realized he didn’t have any intention of following through with his threats. In fact, he saved my life by taking the poison himself.”
She kept all emotion from her voice with tremendous effort. Was Geno alive? Surely, she would know if he were dead. Their shadows were so tangled together, she couldn’t imagine that he could die without her knowledge. Still, she could barely breathe. She needed to see him—to just look at him and see for herself that he was alive and as arrogant as ever.
“That would be your sworn statement?”
“Do you think I want to admit to Jean-Claude that I screwed this up so badly? I wouldn’t lie. I still have to face Stefano and Geno Ferraro and tell them the truth. I have no idea what Valentino Saldi or Dario Bosco were doing in the interrogation room, but I certainly couldn’t talk about shadow riders in front of them.”
“You are aware that Valentino Saldi is married to Emmanuelle Ferraro, Stefano’s youngest sibling?”
Amaranthe shook her head. “I only familiarized myself with the New York branch before coming here.”
“The Ferraro family is very close. New York, LA, San Francisco, Chicago. If you’re talking to one, you’re talking to all of them. If one needs help, they all come. Essentially, they are the Archambaults of the United States. They don’t have too many other riders to help them out, so they rely on one another.”
“You don’t believe any of them would betray the others.”
“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, he became 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.”