Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

  Her breathing had grown ragged. She didn’t take her gaze from his in the mirror, and he knew by the way her body was flushed and her hips bucking that she was finding the sight of what he was doing to her as sexy as he found it. He slid his finger into her again and began to fuck her harder and deeper, watching her closely as he added a second finger. Every now and then, he brushed along the seam of her cheeks with his thumb. She tugged harder at her nipples and her hips found his rhythm and matched him.

  She was beautiful. So close. He couldn’t take his eyes from her. This time he wasn’t going to be selfish. This was for her. Although, he had to admit, it was for him, too. He loved seeing her like this. He loved knowing he could give this to her. He loved that she trusted him with her body enough to allow him to follow the things he asked of her and let him put his hands on her.

  He felt the tightening of her body. The tension coiling in her. Her gaze turned frantic, fearful. “I’ve got you, amore mio, I’ll always have you. Just let go. Give yourself to me.” He bit down on her neck again, gently, his teeth scraping lightly, and then he kissed her there, his tongue lapping at the small sting.

  She cried out, a soft little sound that sent an arrow piercing his heart, and he felt her channel clamping down, spilling hot honey around his fingers. The flush was on her breasts, her neck, her face. Her eyes had gone dazed, a rich haze of heat and pleasure mixed. She looked so gorgeous and abandoned, lying against him, her breasts thrust out, reddened, nipples inflamed, her trousers pushed down and the tops of her thighs glistening with evidence of her orgasm.

  “I’m not sure I can stand up.”

  She still had her eyes open. Still watched him in the mirror.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re sexy as hell. You know you are.”

  “No, I mean a mess. Look at me. I need a washcloth.”

  She indicated the dark curls now damp and gleaming, along with the tops of her thighs. He grinned at her in the mirror.

  “No problem, piccola, I’ve got this.”

  She looked at him suspiciously, but he was already on his knees, pulling her legs wide, wrapping his hands around her lower thighs to lock her in place, and he used his tongue to lick up the inside of her thighs, catching any honey that escaped. He took his time, devouring every drop, listening to her soft entreaties, her threats, her laughter. Her fists settled in his hair but she didn’t pull him away as he used his tongue and teeth, getting creative, teasing her, inflaming her again, showing her that spontaneous sex between a husband and a wife in the light of day could be fun and playful.

  He stroked her cheeks, bringing her closer to him, and then, when he suckled and pressed deep, he stroked the sweet little star between her cheeks. Petting her. Soothing her. Giving that a rhythm, too. Letting her get used to the feel of him touching her everywhere but not demanding anything of her. Then she was crying out again and he was cleaning her up for real. For some reason, that soft little sound she made when she came for him went straight to his heart every time. The fact that she would trust him the way she did humbled him beyond reasoning.

  He went up onto his knees and pushed his face into her belly, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so in love with you, Nicoletta.”

  Her hands trembled as she stroked caresses through his hair. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, Taviano. I was thinking about the two of us earlier. How, if I had known I could just be naked, gone into the shadows and disappeared, where my step-uncles and Benito wouldn’t have been able to get to me, I would have done so. That you would have never been so lucky. But if I’d done that, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  He stood up slowly. “Don’t, tesoro. I wouldn’t have ever wanted you to have to be with those monsters or have them put their hands on you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t want that for me. But what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t change what happened if it meant I couldn’t be with you now.”

  He knew she meant it. She was killing him because she did mean it. She did love him that much. She had married him thinking he didn’t love her and would never fall in love with her, but she’d married him anyway so that he could continue to be a rider. Nicoletta felt he was worth saving. Just being with her, he could admit to himself that had Stefano known what had happened to him, he would be like Nicoletta. He would have given Taviano that same fierce love, but he also would have treated him differently. He would have been more careful with him. He would have guarded his words. Been more protective. Taviano would never have been treated the way Stefano treated his other siblings.

  Very gently he pulled her bra up over her breasts, hating to hide anything that beautiful from his sight. He buttoned the jacket. “I’ll be right back with a washcloth.”

  “Are you certain your brother isn’t going to come sauntering in?”

  “I’m certain, Nicoletta. I wouldn’t have started anything if there was that possibility. I can guarantee you that right now, Stefano has other things on his mind than the Demons.”

  * * *

  * * *

  We aren’t going to have an exact location where the Oklahoma City chapter of the Demons might choose to stop,” Vittorio said. He sat with Elie and Emmanuelle at a picnic table in an empty campground. They’d ridden the shadows for hours, trying to get ahead of the Demons before they made it anywhere near Chicago.

  Rigina and Rosina Greco had eyes on the cars driving from Oklahoma to Chicago, using satellite surveillance. Having more money than most countries came in handy when you wanted—or needed—toys. They knew the Demons would have to stop soon for fuel and most likely would choose to eat something as well.

  The Grecos, excellent investigators and cousins of the Ferraros, were monitoring the cell phones as well in the hopes of pinpointing Benito Valdez’s exact location. So far, no one had called him to report in. The chapters had called one another but not their leader. Still, one could hope.

  Emmanuelle sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. Immediately Elie reached up and began a slow massage without even looking at her.

  “We’re in the best position possible. The Northwye is the halfway point almost exactly, and it’s the Y intersection in the road where the highway branches off north of town. We can follow them in any direction they take from here,” Elie pointed out.

  “All we can do is wait,” Vittorio agreed. “Rigina indicated fifteen were sent out from the city. They have two Ram trucks and a 4Runner. She thinks the one running the operation is in the 4Runner.”

  “How’s Grace’s shoulder doing?” Emmanuelle asked. “I couldn’t believe she got an infection after injuring it again.”

  Vittorio flashed her a small smile. “She’s better. Doing therapy. She’s always trying to rush recovery and I have to slow her down. She gets herself into a lot of trouble that way.”

  “You’re way too cautious.” Emmanuelle mock scowled at him. “You wouldn’t be with one of us.”

  “I’d be with you,” Vittorio corrected. “And if she hadn’t rushed her recovery in the first place, she wouldn’t have needed a second operation.”

  “I know, Vittorio, I’m sorry,” Emmanuelle said immediately. “I shouldn’t tease you. Although Grace said she stumbled and hit her shoulder into a rock wall when she was checking out a place to hold an event.” She turned to Elie, nudging him. “Grace took a bullet meant for Vittorio, and it shattered her shoulder, right about the time you came on board with us.”

  “I remember,” Elie said. “I was training under Emilio. The call came in that someone tried to kill you, Vittorio. Emilio thought you were all tucked in for the night and he wasn’t the least bit happy that you’d gone out without his knowledge.”

  Emmanuelle sent her brother a quick smile. “You got into trouble with Emilio, didn’t you? I despise his lectures. Elie has the best of both worlds. Not only does he get to bodyguard, but he’s a rid
er. So, you get to boss everyone around no matter what, just like Stefano.”

  “No one really bosses Stefano,” Elie said. “Not even Emilio. Stefano is a law unto himself. Even my family walks carefully around him.”

  “I think of you more as a Ferraro than an Archambault,” Emmanuelle confessed. “You’ve become such a part of our family.”

  Vittorio nodded. “Stefano treats him that way, doesn’t he, Elie? He gives him the same hell he does the rest of us.”

  “And the same amount of work,” Emmanuelle agreed. “Thanks for always being so good about it, Elie. There’s so much now. It just seems like no matter how much we take on, there’s always more.”

  Elie slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “Because you’re letting him send you all over the country, Emmanuelle. You’re going to burn out if you don’t slow down.”

  Emmanuelle stiffened and pulled away, glaring at him. “I work the same as everyone else does.”

  Elie glanced at Vittorio for confirmation.

  Vittorio nodded. “You know it’s true, Emme. I’ve already had the discussion with Stefano.”

  “Behind my back?” She looked outraged.

  “Of course, behind your back,” Vittorio said, sounding amused. “If you’d been there, you would have kicked our asses. No one was going to risk that.”

  Elie covered his mouth with one hand, but there was no hiding the sudden flare of laughter in his intense dark eyes.

  A small smile flirted with the curve of Emmanuelle’s lower lip. “You’re not going to charm me, Vittorio. Or you, either, Elie. You’re both in the doghouse.” Suspicion crossed the perfection of her soft features. “Who else was there? Were all of my brothers there? Was Mariko?”

  “Betrayal of the sisterhood? You know better. Even if Mariko thought it, she wouldn’t voice it, not without talking to you about it first,” Vittorio said. “While your brothers have always conspired to boss you around and protect you from your stubborn and willful behavior from the day you were born, your sisters-in-law wouldn’t think of joining the many conspiracies we have. Fortunately, you have all of us, and now Elie as well, to look out for you. I know you are especially grateful.” He sounded complacent.

  “I love Grace,” Emmanuelle told Elie. “I love her so very much. She’s sweet and gentle and so deserving. Her one failing is that she’s madly in love with Vittorio. If she wasn’t, I’d be tempted to break something important on him and send him limping home. She’d be upset though, and I don’t ever want her upset.”

  Vittorio smiled. “I don’t like Grace upset, either. Have you talked with her about planning Nicoletta and Taviano’s wedding? I thought maybe she could spend some time with Lucia and Amo. She might be able to keep them from worrying about Nicoletta until this is over.”

  “Do you think it will ever really be over for them?” Elie asked. “Benito has four brothers. In order to stop Benito from pursuing her, we’ve got to kill him. When he’s dead, aren’t the others going to come after her?”

  “The hope is they will have no idea she has anything to do with his death, or the death of any member of the Demons,” Vittorio said. “Although the manner in which they were all killed goes back to the same way her step-uncles were killed.”

  “That’s true,” Emmanuelle agreed, “but if they lose so many, and no one ever caught a glimpse of the assassins and lived to tell about it, I’d want to stay away.”

  “Taviano and Nicoletta will always have to be careful, but then we all do,” Vittorio said. “In any case, we can hunt them if we have to. Elie, your family, in particular, has to be watchful at all times. It is rare to worry that shadow riders might come after us, but with the job your family has, that’s a very real possibility.”

  The Archambaults were the only family sanctioned to kill other riders for breaking the laws of shadow riders.

  Vittorio suddenly swung his head toward the highway. “I believe the Demons are close. Let’s see where they plan on heading.”

  All three were immediately on their feet, stepping into the shadow that would hurtle them straight toward the Y in the highway that would determine which road the Demons would travel to fuel up on their journey, or if they would even stop.

  Vittorio had taken the lead and Elie stepped in front of Emmanuelle. She hissed her ire at him as she emerged from the mouth of the tube, but he didn’t so much as turn around or acknowledge that he noticed. The two Ram trucks and Toyota 4Runner were the only vehicles approaching the Y. Traffic wasn’t busy.

  The sun had already dropped, providing a purple and blue sky streaked with darker clouds. The vehicles pulled to the side of the road for a brief consultation, although no one got out.

  “They’re so lazy, they’re using their cell phones instead of getting out and talking with one another,” Emmanuelle observed.

  The truck in the last position sat in the remaining light, engine rumbling, with the shadow of the trees cast right over it. Emmanuelle stepped into it and instantly felt the pull. The tube took her body, flinging her straight down and across the distance at breakneck speed, sliding her right under the door and throwing her into the very back, just missing one of the men in the back seat as the driver put the vehicle into gear and set the truck in motion.

  She breathed deeply, crouching low, making herself as small as possible as she tried to rid herself of the disorienting effects riding the shadows always caused in her body. There was no shadow to immediately dive into if one of the five men in the cab of the truck should suddenly turn their head and spot her. As they drove down the highway, shadows occasionally striped the cab but streaked past and couldn’t be counted on to hide in. She remained silent, slowing her heartbeat, breathing slowly and evenly, using calming meditation breathing to let her muscles relax and be ready to spring into action.

  There was silence in the truck for the first few minutes and then one of them spoke. “Can’t you put a little lead into it, Brio? Either that or pull the hell over.”

  Brio had to be the driver. Emmanuelle locked that into her memory.

  “You had your chance, Cruz,” Brio snapped. “You can hold it until we get to the diner. What are you, two?”

  Cruz was sitting in the back seat directly to her left.

  Cruz squirmed, and the man sitting directly in front of her shoved him. “Stop it. It’s fucking close quarters in here. I told you to quit drinking, but you just kept it up anyway.” He sounded annoyed. Frazzled even.

  They’d come a long way, and riding together in the back seat probably hadn’t been very comfortable. They weren’t small men. She risked a look, just tipping her head up enough that she could see the backs of their heads.

  Cruz swore in Spanish and elbowed the man. “Shut the fuck up, Eber, I’m tired of you.”

  Eber retaliated, slamming his elbow viciously into Cruz’s jaw. It was hard enough to snap Cruz’s head to one side. Eber didn’t stop. He hit him two more times and then turned in the seat, facing slightly away from him.

  The man to Emmanuelle’s right snickered. “Hell, Eber, you just tore him up.”

  “What the fuck is going on back there?” Brio demanded. “Lon, what did Eber do?”

  “Nothing, they’re just going at it like always,” Lon lied.

  “Well, stop,” Brio demanded.

  Emmanuelle could see him peering into the rearview mirror, searching suspiciously to see what was going on. The front passenger turned to look as well.

  Air moved through her lungs, in and out, no change as she waited for him to turn around.

  The driver suddenly cranked up the radio so loud it blasted throughout the cab, making a statement, telling them all he didn’t want any further problems. The moment they all settled, she put her hands on either side of Cruz’s head and wrenched, using the signature kill of all the shadow riders.

  “Justice is served,” she
murmured under her breath and settled his head in the exact position it had been in.

  She waited a heartbeat. A second one. No one noticed. No one cared to check on Cruz to see if he was okay after Eber’s vicious treatment. If someone did notice, they would hopefully attribute his death to Eber’s elbow.

  She watched Lon as he shoved his folded jacket under his head against the window and then removed it. He positioned it on the back of the seat under his neck twice and then moved it again. Clearly, he was uncomfortable, but he was careful not to bump into Eber, who was taking up more than his share of space on the seat.

  Eber knew it, too. He inched his elbows out, shoving into both Cruz and Lon. Then when Cruz didn’t give him a reaction, he turned his back toward Lon, shoving into him, forcing him closer to the window. There was a malicious little grin on his face.

  Emmanuelle didn’t hesitate. She gripped Lon’s head and wrenched. The crack couldn’t be heard over the blasting music, but his jacket started to slip out from under his neck. She had to catch it, and for a moment, the passenger in the front seat started to turn toward the back, and she froze. Brio said something to him and he turned back, leaning closer to the driver to hear. She positioned the jacket under Lon’s head, whispered the required proclamation and sank back down, this time directly behind Eber. He would be the toughest one. Once she had him, she could crawl over the bodies and kill the passenger in the front of the cab and then the driver. That could be accomplished in seconds. Then she would drive the truck to wherever the destination was. Brio had programmed the address into the GPS. She just had to follow directions.

  Watching in the rearview mirror, Emmanuelle took her time. One needed to be patient. Even if they reached their destination, she would still have time to kill Eber and possibly the others. It might be difficult depending on where they parked, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. She was fast, she knew that.