“Of course. That you’re members of a crime family. That you’re mafia. That you have a territory, and the Saldi family is the greatest enemy. Naturally I’ve heard the gossip.”
“What else?”
She sighed and pressed the bottle to her forehead again. He knew immediately that the headache still persisted. “Some say that if a family has a problem, one can request a visit with Eloisa, and she will listen to that problem and make it go away.”
He nodded slowly. “That is what they say. So, if in New York, a social worker goes to my cousin’s grandparents, former riders, and requests a visit with them, they grant it of course. An afternoon tea. Perhaps coffee. Here, in Chicago, the social worker might meet with Eloisa for the same thing, a simple tea, just a nice friendly visit. In Los Angeles, you met a couple of my cousins. Their grandparents also would meet with that same social worker upon a request and also sit down to a nice cup of tea or coffee for a pleasant visit.”
Nicoletta frowned at him. “There are riders in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles?”
He nodded. “Also in other countries, although we are very few and getting fewer.”
“Children?” she guessed. “It’s probably difficult to find each other and have children.”
He wasn’t going there yet. “In our world, these former shadow riders are now known as ‘greeters.’ All riders are born with the capability of hearing lies. Some, obviously, are better at it than others. We develop the gift as we grow. I’m certain you have the ability.”
Taviano waited for her to nod. Her gaze was on his face, and that steady stare was a little disconcerting. He’d wanted her to understand his world, but her comprehension level and learning speed was astounding. She was picking up what he was saying far too quickly, jumping ahead, without further explanation. He wasn’t going to be able to hold anything back. If he did, she would guess accurately anyway.
“In the first part of the visit, the greeters simply talk with the visitors, establishing their patterns of speech and breathing. Then they ask them why they’ve come. The visitor lays out their problem. We’ll use the social worker for our example.” He kept his gaze steady on her face. “She has a young girl that she’s worried about. She can’t get her out of the terrible abusive situation she’s in. Her parents died in a car accident and the teen was placed with her only relatives, but they are members of an infamous gang.”
Nicoletta stirred then, her rigid shoulders jerking, her head pulling back. She slid off the bed and went to the bar, pulling out another cold bottle of water from the mini fridge. Leaning against the long, low-slung dresser that ran along the curved wall of the aircraft, she nodded at him to continue.
“They threatened her family when she tried to have the teen removed, but she knows they’ve raped her, and she’s seen multiple bruises on her. She’s afraid of the gang, but she can’t leave this girl in that situation. She doesn’t know what to do. She has some money saved up for her retirement, and she’s willing to give all of it as a fee if the family can do something to get this teen out of the situation and bring some justice for her.”
Nicoletta had broken out in a sweat. She pressed the water bottle to her face, stepping to one side so no light, even as dim as it was, could touch her.
“Are you all right?”
“Did she really do that?” Nicoletta whispered it. There were tears in her voice.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You weren’t supposed to know. Anyone knowing could get her and her family killed. The Demons are vicious. There could be no signs pointing back to her.”
“I thought I had been completely abandoned. She came to see me and they pushed her around. I had two workers before her. They both raced away. She looked at me, and there was something in her eyes, and then she left, and I never heard from her again. They laughed and said no one would ever come for me.”
“They were wrong, weren’t they?” Taviano said softly.
He ached with the need to go to her. She looked so alone. He’d seen her like that countless times in the last few years. Standing straight. Looking just like she did now, upright, refusing to be broken when she was so torn up inside. He knew what those men had done to her, and she hated that he knew.
Still, he was going to be her husband. He wasn’t going to do what he’d been forced to do for the last three years. He slipped from the bed and went to her, choosing to ignore that she froze like a little rabbit when he got close.
“The social worker laid out the problem, and my cousin’s grandparents in New York listened very carefully, tuned for lies. Tuned for truth. They say nothing, only listen. It’s always possible an enemy has slipped in. Or someone from law enforcement. It happens often. Our family is often tested. When the visitor is finished speaking, they murmur great sympathies but promise nothing. They say how sorry they are. They ask a few questions for clarity. They might ask them to write down names. They never offer to help. The visitor goes away wondering if they wasted their time.”
Taviano slipped his arm around Nicoletta’s waist and urged her toward the two round chairs near the entryway of the room. The chairs were very comfortable, and he wanted her to rest while she could. Her body needed it whether she recognized it or not.
“There is always an investigation. There are two sets of investigators. The first team finds out everything they can about the client. The second team investigates the actual crime. Both have to be human lie detectors and they have the capability to influence others to want to talk to them. They investigate quietly and very carefully in order not to tip off the cops or anyone else who might be interested in the same crime or people.”
Nicoletta allowed him to urge her toward the chairs. She sank into one with a small sigh and immediately put her feet up on the built-in ottoman, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “I have to say, I could live in this plane, Taviano. Is it yours? If it is, it’s a seriously good reason for a girl to want to marry you.”
“Kissing me is a seriously good reason for a girl to want to marry me.”
She opened her eyes and scowled at him. “Now’s not a good time for that. Keep talking. Vegas can’t be that far from LA by plane.”
He pretended to sigh, but at least she was back to being more like herself. “Investigators have to be family members and they have to have specific psychic gifts. Once the investigation is complete, greeters, investigators and shadow riders all have to agree before the job is taken. To do that, the rider has to know every fact about both parties. Where they lived, who lived with them. Their routine. Their friends. Everything. That’s vital. First, we can’t make a mistake, and second, we don’t want the rider in jeopardy if at all possible.”
“Essentially, a rider is an assassin.” She turned her head and looked at him coolly, beneath the fan of her dark, thick lashes, daring him to tell her the truth.
His heart jumped in his chest. He’d laid it out for her, using her own case as his example, and she was still judging them harshly. He might have expected that from someone else, but not from her. He didn’t view himself as an assassin, but he supposed the outside world would see him that way. He didn’t make a kill personal. He meted out justice to those who slipped through the system. Sometimes the task was something as simple as getting back money that was taken from an elderly person in a scam. It didn’t have to be a broken neck.
“Often we’re called on to mete out that kind of justice, yes,” he admitted.
She turned her head again, staring through the open bedroom door into what would be the wide formal dining room. When the family was aboard, that was the part of the plane most used. They sat around the large table and interacted, mostly laughing together and enjoying one another’s company.
“Why were you in New York instead of the ones who live there? You said you have cousins who live there.”
“Once an investigation is complete, the riders come in from a different city. They fly in essentially looking to par
ty. The paparazzi hound them, taking tons of pictures. Cousins who live in that city greet them and they party the night away with well-known actresses or singers, anyone who would also be pursued by the paparazzi. The idea is to get into as many magazines and newspapers as possible. It’s all about alibis.”
“While you’re all visible, someone they never saw is in the shadows doing the deed.”
“Exactly.”
She turned her head then and his heart nearly stopped when she sent him a little half smile. “Nice gig. You really thought up a foolproof plan. No wonder you all like to be in the spotlight so much. I should have figured that out all by myself. I’m a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t.”
Relief was overwhelming. She wasn’t as opposed to what they did as he’d first feared. She continued to look steadily at him. “That’s why you didn’t go after Benito and Armando then. They weren’t on the list. No one had sanctioned them, so to speak.”
Something in her voice put his warning system on alert. His woman might just be a little bloodthirsty. He’d just explained the system to her and the need to make certain it was never personal. He knew that wasn’t always possible, but they still had to try. He was going to have to watch her.
“I will admit, I read the reports and they were very detailed. I knew what he had done to you and I wanted him dead. It felt very personal to me even then. Stefano refused. It wasn’t sanctioned, and we weren’t on the Demons’ radar. They would have no idea what happened to you. You would be safer if you simply vanished. I wanted you safe.”
“I wanted them all dead.”
He was silent. If he had to admit it aloud, he had to agree.
“Tell me more. I interrupted you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I find this entire business extremely fascinating. I can imagine Stefano doing it, but not Francesca.”
“Francesca was never trained as a rider. She was born capable, but never trained, and she doesn’t ride the shadows. Stefano would lose his mind if she tried. She’s the heart of our family and always will be. Ricco’s wife, Mariko, is a trained rider, and she’s fast and excellent at it. Sasha, Giovanni’s wife, isn’t, but she could have been. Again, she will never be a rider; however, she’s a force of nature and a powerhouse. Grace, no way will she ever be a shadow rider, and Vittorio would lose his mind, just like Stefano would if Francesca wanted to be one.”
Taviano could feel Nicoletta’s eyes on him, but he deliberately didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared up at the ceiling of the plane. He made her ask.
“What about you, Taviano?”
“What about me, Nicoletta?”
“What do you expect from your wife? Do you expect me to be the heart of the family like Francesca? Or a force of nature like Sasha? Or like Grace, sweet and accommodating of everything you want? Or like Mariko, a rider?”
Taviano thought it over, taking his time, wanting to answer her honestly. “I would like you to be the heart of our family like Francesca, and you’re already a force of nature like Sasha. I would love that you’d be sweet and accommodating, even thoughtful of my needs and wants, the way Grace is with Vittorio. As for a rider like Mariko, no, I don’t want that. She takes her own rotation, just as we all do. I would be opposed to that. If I had my preference, I would want us to work together, like we did. Of course, you need far more training, both in the shadows and out, but I think we’d make a good team. That would be my preference. So, it isn’t an expectation, Nicoletta. It’s a preference.”
“I don’t know that I have the self-discipline needed to keep my personal feelings out of the work,” she admitted with marked reluctance. “How do you do that?”
“Practice. Work. Everyone has good traits and character flaws, Nicoletta. Some of the flaws can be both good and bad. The problem is, people don’t want to acknowledge they have them, or they simply use them as an excuse. They’ll say they’re stubborn, as if that excuses their behavior. It doesn’t. If they know they’re stubborn, they have to work doubly hard not to be. I have a terrible temper, as you well know. I work on it all the time. Sometimes I’m successful, other times I’m not. I’m not proud of it. I despise the fact that I’m not disciplined enough to overcome letting that damn thing rule me. I don’t like hurting people I care about. I know I’ve hurt you with things I’ve said in anger. We just keep at it.”
She nodded. “You think I can get to a place where I won’t throw up when I’m with you in the shadows?”
“You didn’t on the ride back to the plane.”
She gave him a faint smile. “I’m pretty certain there was nothing left to come up.”
He held out his hand to her. “You’re going to do fine, although I’m going to warn you, even after we’re married, Stefano may be so pissed at me that he’ll strip me of my right to be a rider anyway. This might not fix everything.”
“Why Stefano?” She took his hand. It was slow, but she did it.
“He’s the head of the Chicago family. His word is law. Eloisa used to have a say, but not anymore. I’ll abide by whatever Stefano says. He’ll be fair. Angry with me, but fair. I put you at risk. Just so you know, the family didn’t take any money from the social worker, Nicoletta.”
“Someday I’d like to go back and thank her in person. Maybe it would be nice for her to know that she made a difference in someone’s life. Lucia and Amo have been wonderful to me. I couldn’t ask for better foster parents. I wish they could be in Vegas with us. They aren’t going to be happy, even though I can explain that it’s really kind of a bogus wedding.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Bogus wedding? What the hell is a bogus wedding?”
“Not real. You know, like one of those Elvis wedding things. Isn’t that what we’re doing? Sort of doing this fast and fake so Stefano will be happy, and then doing it again when Lucia and Amo and the others are around?”
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to give her that big church wedding—and he would. But there wasn’t going to be anything bogus about this wedding. “This wedding won’t be fake, piccola. We’re getting legally married. We’ll file the papers, and then go home and let Francesca and Grace plan our big event. Grace is all into that. You can give all the input you want. You tell them what you want, and it’s yours. Go all fairy tale if you want. Hell, I’ll dress up as Prince Charming in those silly striped white tights for you, but this isn’t going to be an Elvis-slash-bogus wedding.”
“You’re so lying right now. You would never in a million years dress up as Prince Charming in white or striped tights.”
“Okay, I am lying about that,” he conceded. “It’s not good when my fiancée can hear lies.” He pushed out of the chair and went to the bedside stand to open the drawer where he’d placed the small jewelry box. All along he’d thought to ask her to marry him. Of course, he’d been planning to ask her officially. He’d all but told her that this was the end of her freedom, so she needed to enjoy it while she could.
His cousin Damian Ferraro, from New York, was a very talented jeweler who made very special jewelry designed to be able to go into the shadows. He was famous for designing the perfect ring for an unseen, unknown lady. Taviano hoped he had created magic for Nicoletta. Like his brothers, he hadn’t looked to see what Damian had made for his woman. He’d been a little afraid to see.
He brought the small jeweler’s box out just to make it official. Because Nicoletta didn’t have many things good in her life, he went down in front of her on one knee and opened the box with his thumb, shifting it so she could see inside.
“I’m asking you officially to be my wife, Nicoletta. I want you to marry me and spend your life with me. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you happy.” It was a lame proposal because looking at her robbed him of speech, which didn’t seem possible.
He wanted to give her the world. Take away every bad memory she had and replace it with something good. She thought she was in little pieces, scattered on the ground. He’d heard her say that once when she
’d torn up a photograph of herself Lucia had taken. She’d been crying and she’d called herself trash. She’d burned the image and placed the ashes of the picture in the trash can “where she belonged.” He’d hated that. Now he couldn’t even give her a proper proposal because she left him without words. But she liked the ring. He saw that on her face. It was a flawless dark indigo blue diamond. Like his eyes. The stone had a lush elegance to it. He could have passed it off as a sapphire with its fiery sheen, but the cushion-cut diamond, set in a platinum band, was too rare and beautiful to be compared with anything on the market. She would be unable to wear the engagement ring in the shadows, but the wedding band was made of a special alloy she would always keep on her finger.
“Taviano.” She barely breathed his name.
“Say yes.”
“I can’t wear that.”
He took it out of the box and pushed it onto her finger. It slid on easily, just the way he knew it would. Damian had a way of knowing, without ever meeting the woman who would wear the ring. The stone looked perfect against her skin. She looked down at her hand and then up at his face.
“You need to say yes, tesoro,” he coaxed.
“I said yes, but I’ll say it again. Yes, but—”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips to stop whatever she was about to say. Yes was just fine with him. He knew she was afraid she wasn’t going to be good enough. He knew she would be. He had his own secrets. His own past. He was no saint. She’d have to live with that.
He took her hand and pressed a kiss over the ring. “Franco just said we’re going to be landing. Let’s do this, and then we’ll face Stefano.” He hesitated. “One more thing. The wedding band stays on your finger. This comes off before we take to the shadows, so in an emergency, if you’re wearing it, you’ll have to get rid of it.”
She shook her head. “Taviano. No.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to think of plans just in case, but you have to keep that in the back of your mind.”
Shadow Flight (The Shadow Series) Page 11