Shadow Warrior (The Shadow Series Book 4)

by Christine Feehan

  “I take it it didn’t end there.”

  She shook her head. A wave of weariness swept over her. “I haven’t slept much in the last few years, afraid if I closed my eyes, I’d wake up with Haydon standing over me. He does that often. I know it’s to show me he can get into my apartment no matter how often I change the locks. Once he sent me a picture of Katie Branscomb, asleep in her room. He was in the picture, standing above Katie, a grin on his face. He hadn’t threatened her with words, just let me know in his not-so-subtle way that Katie was in danger if I stopped doing what he wanted. So, I took out more loans, went into debt until I was stretched so thin there was no way to pay it all back. I told him so, and you saw the results.”

  Vittorio rubbed his chin with her fingertips. The shadow on his jaw was faint, but she could feel the bristles and for some reason she didn’t understand, that feeling shot straight from her fingertips to her core. She’d never experienced anything like it. He was naturally sensual and didn’t even seem to notice, while she, in her floaty state, was afraid she would blurt out how hot he was. How could she even notice when she was telling him about Haydon and the things she knew he’d done but couldn’t prove?

  “Other than seeing the smirk on his face when the detectives were investigating Owen’s accident, was there anything else that tied him to it?”

  “This doesn’t tie him to it, but usually he slept in my bedroom, in front of the door. We’d taken to keeping the window open so we both could run if we had to. We knew Owen was going to retaliate because I’d hit him with a chair. It was the first night since that terrible beating that Haydon hadn’t slept there.”

  “What happened when you were at the new foster home? Who were they?”

  “Her name was Julie Vaughn. Her husband was Kyle. They were really good people. They gave us great rooms. Each of us had a laptop to use, and when Haydon asked for an iPod for music, they got him one. I thought they were awesome. Haydon often complained about them. He didn’t like doing the chores and said they got us to be their slaves. They were light chores and reasonable. Things like picking up our own rooms and doing our laundry. He refused, and I would do his share of the work because I was afraid he was trying to get them to punish him in some way.”

  Vittorio slipped off the bed. “I’m going to lower the bed for you, gattina bella.”

  Grace was grateful that he noticed she was getting tired. She didn’t like bringing attention to herself in any way. She made certain she could fade into the background and not be noticed. She’d discovered that if she kept to the shadows, the darkness helped to hide her. Haydon had colored her life in so many ways.

  “In school, Haydon didn’t want me to have other friends. I made a girlfriend the first day at our new school and he was furious when we were walking home, telling me I was a sellout and wanted to be popular, that after all he’d done for me, I was going to be like everyone else and ignore him. I defended myself, but the next day, my new friend didn’t come to school. Someone had hung her cat in her doorway.”

  She pulled her hand away from Vittorio and pressed her fingers against her lip, choking for a moment, trying not to think she was responsible. “He was sweet to me all that day, walking me to my classes. I kept my head down and let him.”

  Vittorio fixed her pillows as if knowing she was uncomfortable. He pulled the cover up. “I know it must be hard for you to relive these things.” His long fingers slipped into her hair, massaging her scalp. “Mia bella ragazza, sei cosi coraggiosa,” he murmured.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Only that you’re very brave.”

  She didn’t think of herself as brave. “I didn’t know how to stop Haydon,” she felt compelled to confess. “He was considered a nerd and a few members of the football team shoved him around one day in school. One by one, accidents happened to them. One nearly broke his neck because his skateboard broke in half on a dangerous hill he’d bragged to everyone he could skate. As it was, he had a broken femur and knee. It was the end of his playing football because the leg was so screwed up. Another one of the players had this car he loved more than anything. He’d saved for it for years, souped it up himself in his dad’s garage. Then one day, after he shoved Haydon at school, the brakes went out. He totaled the car and was lucky he survived.”

  “Could these accidents have been coincidences?”

  Grace shook her head and then winced when her shoulder reacted to the movement with a wave of pain. “The cops said he must’ve made a mistake when he installed new brakes, but this guy was a total gearhead. He wouldn’t have made that sort of mistake. I tried to tell myself that, but I knew better.”

  “Do you want to stop and go to sleep? We can talk later.”

  His voice was so gentle, almost a caress of velvet stroking over her skin. Caring. Tender even. She’d never heard a voice quite like his. She should have known he would notice the way the color drained from her face when the pain hit. She hated moving, but she had to finish telling him about Haydon. If her foster brother managed to get to her, someone had to know and believe her. Vittorio Ferraro was a man everyone would listen to.

  “I want you to hear this before I lose my courage,” she said. His hand pressed hers to his thigh and once again, his thumb started that soothing rhythm that somehow relaxed the tension that was cramping her muscles.

  “Haydon got mad at Kyle for insisting that he do his own chores when Julie told him I was doing all the laundry and cleaning his room. They had a beautiful lab that went missing. Kyle loved that dog. They looked for weeks for it. Someone found its remains in a park—it had been tortured.”

  “Grace, it’s clear this man is fixated on you. Is it about money? Did he try to take your relationship to a romantic level?”

  His voice remained the same, gentle and low, but something made her gaze jump to his when she’d been closing her eyes because her lids had suddenly gotten so heavy. Just his saying it aloud made her heart go crazy.

  “He never so much as tried to kiss me, but he doesn’t like anyone close to me at all. I don’t go out with friends, not even Katie. She suspects I have a stalker, but I always act as if Haydon is my friend. I never let on that I’m afraid of him to anyone. That would be disastrous to them. He was angry with me for not getting another loan, and I’m certain whatever deal he was making with those men was temporary. He’d probably kill anyone who was with me. That would be like him.”

  “Are there other bodies? Others you have suspected he killed?”

  She closed her eyes. “I’ve suspected, but I don’t have proof. There’s never anything to connect him. He lets time go by before he strikes. When he does retaliate, it’s usually gruesome. I’ve read about three individuals killed in the same way Dwayne was, or at least similar enough that I suspected. One was my first landlord, who wouldn’t allow me to have any visitors, Haydon included. The man disappeared three months after I moved out. They found his body in a freezer across town. It was quite awful. They said he’d been kept alive for hours.”

  “The three you know of that you suspect he killed, were all three connected to you in some way?”

  She nodded. “One was a cop who gave me a ticket. Haydon was in the car and he was angry with me. He stomped on my foot on the gas pedal to scare me. He said he’d drive head-on into oncoming traffic. When the cop gave chase, he laughed and let up, so I could pull over. The cop gave me a lecture and said if I did something like that again, and he heard about it, he’d take me to jail. The cop died in a similar way to my ex-landlord. It wasn’t here in Chicago. I’d moved to another city in order to get away from Haydon, but he followed me.”

  “And the third?”

  She gave a little shudder that she knew he saw even though she tried not to let what she was saying affect her. “One of my neighbors at the apartment I lived in when I first moved back to Chicago. I accidentally bumped into him in the hall. He caught my arms and we both laughed. After that he’d always say hello. Really, that was it. But Hay
don got angry with me because I wouldn’t let him move in. The man, Howard Bennet, disappeared. People came knocking on my door asking if I’d seen him. Haydon was in the hallway, just lounging there with that smirk and I knew Howard was dead. They found the body about a month later. It was very gruesome.” She didn’t want to think about Haydon Phillips anymore. Not when she was about to go to sleep.

  His fingers felt like magic in her hair. So soothing. She just wanted to close her eyes and give in to the drug, let it take her away. She turned her face into his arm and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his skin. It was a mixture of sexy sandalwood and vetiver, but so faint it was almost elusive, making her want to chase after the scent. The combination was masculine and powerful, very sensual to her. “You smell so good.”

  “Thank you, bella. I hope you always tell me what you like and don’t like. You’ve been so incredibly brave today. I appreciate your trust and I do know it was difficult for you.”

  It had been hard to tell him. Very hard. She’d learned not to trust anyone, but more importantly, she knew not to get close to anyone. Vittorio was already in Haydon’s sights. His family probably was as well, and she owed it to them to warn them.

  “He’s capable of being anywhere, Vittorio.” Her words slurred a little and she knew she was going out. “Small spaces, attics. Locks can’t keep him out. He can get in this room through the vents. He might be there now, listening to us.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Have they found him?” Vittorio asked, pushing his hand through his hair. He was getting tired of hearing the same answer.

  “Haydon Phillips is a cunning little weasel,” Ricco said. “From everything we’ve gathered, that’s the general consensus. He’s gone to some little hole and is hiding. He knows he’s being hunted, and we’re not the only ones looking for him.”

  “Grace has weeks of therapy on that shoulder. The doc told me she’s lucky she can use the arm. He didn’t think she’d have the use of her hand at all, but she can move her fingers and that’s a good sign. I’m taking her home with me, but we’ve got to find him.”

  “Is your house secure?”

  Vittorio gave his brother a look. “You know me.”

  Ricco gave him a faint smile. “Does she?”

  “She’s getting to know me. We’ve been here a little over two weeks. I can get her laughing, keep her mind off the fact that she thinks Phillips is going to kill a member of my family. Half the time she’s worried he’s in the vents here. I know she tries to stay awake. The little bastard has kept her from sleeping for ages. The doctor said she has to sleep to heal.”

  He couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to be out there in the city hunting, and he also needed to be with Grace, but he couldn’t be in two places at one time.

  Ricco put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not going to be able to hide forever.”

  “She says he’s patient, that he’ll wait weeks or months before he strikes at someone.”

  Stefano turned toward them. He’d been staring out the window, and who knew what he’d been thinking, but Vittorio immediately gave his older brother his full attention, as did Ricco.

  “We’re not going to find him the way we usually find someone. He doesn’t have a bank account, so no money trail. He doesn’t rent or own. He doesn’t have a car. He takes money from other people, he lives in the attics of homes or apartments and he steals cars when he wants a ride. He can become anonymous in a crowd. He’s small enough to fit in vents and has no problems getting in and out of locked doors.”

  Vittorio massaged the back of his neck. Already he was becoming restless, everything in him urging him to get back to Grace. “We’ve got to hurry this meeting.”

  “She isn’t alone,” Stefano reminded. “She has a bodyguard in the room with her and two outside. Mariko and Emmanuelle will be there in a few minutes.”

  Having his sister and sister-in-law in the room with Grace helped. Both were shadow riders and every bit as capable as he was. They’d trained every day of their lives since they were two years old, just as he had, and they dispensed justice when their rotation came up. They did it with efficiency and without hesitation. Grace was in good hands, and yet he still had this restless feeling of urgency that just wouldn’t go away.

  “What do you think about Phillips?” Vittorio countered, not wanting to look too closely at the reason he was becoming so edgy. He was always centered. He’d trained himself to be that way. To always feel absolute calm.

  Grace had spent two weeks in the hospital . . . suffering. The bullet had shattered her shoulder; fortunately the surgeon had been able to piece it back together, but she would always have problems. The injury was particularly painful. The surgeon had saved the arm, but it would be a long road to recovery and she would always have some pain. He detested that for her. She was definitely getting stronger and he needed to get her home before she had too much time to think about it. He’d been putting her boss, Katie Branscomb, off visiting her, saying to wait until he got her settled, but he was afraid Katie would insist on Grace going home with her.

  “I think Phillips won’t stop. Grace knows him better than anyone else and if she says he’s likely to come after you and every member of our family, I think we’d better pay attention. I also think Grace is the only anchor he has in this world. He might punish her for not doing exactly what he wants, but he won’t kill her. He can’t afford to lose her and he’s intelligent. A twisted killer, but a very intelligent one. The Saldis don’t have a clue what they’ve unleashed,” Stefano gave his opinion.

  Ricco nodded. “Rigina and Rosina have been mapping a trail of murders that appear similar to the first one Grace knew about—Dwayne Mueller. They’re scattered over a very wide range and two cities that we know of. The girls are working now to place Phillips in the kill zone at the time of the deaths. It’s a tedious process, but they’re tenacious. If he left any trace at all, they’ll find it.”

  “LA cousins concluded the problem of Owen and Becca Mueller. A few days ago they were found in their New York home dead, both with broken necks,” Stefano said.

  The sense of urgency in Vittorio was growing, instead of satisfaction or relief. The small conference room the hospital had lent them was two floors down from Grace’s private suite. She would go home today, and he knew he could better protect her in his house. He wanted to get her there as fast as possible.

  “We can’t do anything about Phillips until he shows himself, and then we can get his trail. Anywhere he steps in a shadow, he’ll leave a ‘print’ we can follow, but until then, let the investigators do their work. We’re on alert and we’ve got extra guards on Grace.” There was always a trail, skin cells, a scent, thermal imaging, parts left behind that the riders called prints. Sometimes those things proved helpful when tracking an individual, especially if they were fresh.

  “Are you protecting our women?” Vittorio asked.

  Stefano gave him a look that was meant to shrivel him. “Of course. Emme’s difficult because she already despises having bodyguards. She knows it’s mandatory for a rider, but extra guards just annoy the hell out of her.”

  “How is she doing?” Vittorio hated seeing his sister hurting.

  “She’s in love with Val,” Stefano answered honestly. “I wish he wasn’t a Saldi. It doesn’t matter to me that he isn’t a rider. I know Eloisa would have a fit, and so would the International Council, but the bottom line for me is Emme’s happiness. If he weren’t the heir apparent to the largest crime family in Chicago, I would have allowed the match. But as head of the family, I can’t welcome the very thing we fight against into our home, nor do I want my sister anywhere near that business.”

  “Don’t ride her too hard, Stefano,” Vittorio cautioned. “Emme’s hurting, and that makes her volatile. Right now, she’s made the decision for herself. If we say anything negative to her, that could change.”

  Ricco nodded his head. “I’ve had to caution T
aviano a few times. You might have a word with him.”

  Stefano sighed. “That’s my fault. I always want to be her parent instead of her brother. Giovanni is closest to her and he’s worried, too. Even Francesca is concerned about Emmanuelle. But you’re right, Vittorio. I’ll be careful and remind Taviano this is a situation that calls for diplomacy, not our usual tactics.”

  There was a wash of relief that didn’t alleviate the sense of urgency growing in Vittorio. “Has Sarto left the hospital? I heard he was being released soon. I know Gori was released last week.”

  “Sarto should have left more than a week ago,” Ricco said, “but you broke his femur and he’s been in traction and got an infection.”

  The three men exchanged smiles.

  “I was pretty pissed,” Vittorio admitted. “It helps to know exactly where to hit or kick them.”

  “Which is why Gori’s arm was in traction for a while as well. The cops took him to jail with his arm in a cast.” Ricco said. “We’ve been checking on both of them. Sarto has a police guard. Gori’s in solitary and only their lawyer’s been allowed to see either of them. Neither Miceli nor his sons have come near them. In fact, Miceli continues to deny he knows anything at all about what transpired.”

  “The two men claim they were at the club having a good time and when they left, you assaulted them in the parking lot, Vittorio,” Stefano said.

  Vittorio shrugged. “Did they think we wouldn’t have cameras everywhere?”

  “I think they were told by whoever is helping them in the club—and I’ve narrowed it down to three men and one woman—that they would erase the footage. Fortunately, we took it that night before anyone could get to it. Giovanni jumped all over that the minute he got there.”