Shadow Warrior (Shadow Riders 4)

“Let’s not do this dance, bella. Everyone knows the Saldi family is a family of criminals. They pass that legacy from father to son.”

She watched as he paced restlessly across the room and then went back to the bar to pour himself another drink. She opened her mouth to protest, thought better of it, and remained silent.

Vittorio pressed the glass to his forehead. “Our family contends with those same rumors. In fact, we’re investigated on a regular basis. Because of the incident at the hotel, we will most likely come under scrutiny again.”

She would hardly call what had happened—a woman being shot to death—an incident. That seemed a little disrespectful, although she didn’t know how she would refer to the death. Again, she remained silent, just watching him. He was mesmerizing as he paced back and forth, the crystal glass pressed to his forehead, his body fluid, prowling across the floor like a feral tiger, caged and restless.

“People come to us, to my family. They have for hundreds of years, to fight against families like the Saldis. When they can’t get justice, or they’re threatened, they seek an audience with those we refer to as greeters.”

She frowned. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Greeters?” She echoed the term, knowing it was important.

“The things I’m telling you, Grace, can’t go out of the family. We’re tied together. You’re one of us now and you need to know, but no one else can know, not your closest friend, not your business partner. No one. The things I tell you can’t go beyond this room. When I say it’s life or death to keep our family legacy secret, I’m not being dramatic.”

Katie was the only friend she had, and they weren’t yet that close. Grace didn’t dare, even now, show her a close friendship, although Vittorio had her guarded and the family had put her up in the Ferraro Hotel, so Haydon couldn’t get to her. She knew better. Haydon was patient and eventually his potential victims dropped their guard, then it was only a matter of time.

Grace nodded her head to show Vittorio she was listening. She narrowed her eyes when he took a small drink of the Scotch. She didn’t know enough about alcohol to know if that was a lot he drank, or a small amount, but either way, it was more than she’d ever seen him drink.

“Remember the ‘criteria’ my mother went on about that got you so upset?”

“Of course.” She still was a little upset about it. A woman didn’t want to think a man wouldn’t even look at her unless she met some standard the family had set.

“Have you ever noticed your shadow?”

She sat up very straight. Of course she’d noticed her shadow. It was strange. It had always been strange, and as she’d grown, she’d come to terms with it. Unlike others, her shadow had strange arm-like appendages shooting off of it everywhere. Like tentacles. An octopus. Those feelers would reach toward other shadows to connect them. Sometimes, when that happened, she could almost feel what another person was feeling. Most of the time it was nothing. Sometimes she could hear lies. With Vittorio, every single time it happened, she would get a very physical reaction. A huge physical reaction, a surge of greedy need so strong it could shake her.

“Yes.” She answered in a whisper, because he clearly expected a verbal answer and her voice wouldn’t climb above that low, husky sound.

“Have you noticed my shadow is the same as yours? As is Stefano’s and all of my brothers’ as well as Emmanuelle’s?”

She had only noticed Vittorio’s shadow. She hadn’t been paying attention to his brothers’. She was glad she wasn’t the only one with a peculiar shadow, but she hadn’t thought that much about it. She glanced at it now, thrown from the light from the flames dancing in the fireplace. Her shadow and Vittorio’s were connected. More than connected. The tubes had intertwined to the point that it appeared to be one shadow, not two.

“Yes.” She wished he’d just say whatever it was he needed to say, but she couldn’t help staring at their shadows, thrown on the wall across from her.

“If I tell you a lie, or someone else does, can you hear that lie?”

Grace frowned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Most of the time. I don’t rely on it, but a red flag goes up if I think I hear a lie.”

“I can hear lies. My family members can. Greeters are usually older family members who can hear lies. By the time they become a greeter, they are adept at telling the difference between a lie and the truth.”

“I don’t understand.” She frowned, trying to figure out where he was going with his revelation. She half expected he would tell her the Ferraro family was as immersed in crime as the Saldi family. Or that he traveled the world on family business, sitting on boards for banks or hotels, and she would have to stay in their home alone. She was prepared for almost anything but the direction he went.