Shadow Dance – Shadow Riders Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
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Patrick finished chewing and then sighed. “I’m going to have to remove myself from this case. I didn’t want to. I thought because we hadn’t seen each other in years our connection wouldn’t taint evidence for a conviction. I can’t take that chance.”

“You also can’t take chances with your life. I think that woman contacting you means you’re in danger,” Geno said. “You’re most likely on their hit list. We need to get you to a safer environment.”

“I’m a police detective, Geno,” Patrick reminded. “I can’t turn tail and run. And I can’t just disappear.”

“Sure you can,” Terence said cheerfully. “You have enough vacation time coming to you for fifty people. We can make it happen by tomorrow morning.”

“My wife will be flying home in our personal jet. You can stay at the hotel and help keep watch over her and my family. I’d take that as a personal favor,” Stefano said. “She’s an excellent cook, which is the upside, but she never does what she’s told. I’ll warn you ahead of time, she smiles sweetly, and you think she isn’t going to go visit that sick woman down the street, but she is. Take extra bodyguards and insist on going with her whether she says you don’t need to or not.”

Geno could have kissed his cousin. Stefano made it seem as if Patrick were doing him a huge favor by looking after Francesca, who just laughed without one ounce of remorse. Geno felt better now that he knew Patrick would be safe. He had no idea why Lyna was targeted, but at least Patrick would be alive and well when all this was over.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Amaranthe didn’t know how to seduce her fiancé. She wasn’t good at that kind of thing. Moreover, she was very nervous. Things hadn’t gone that well the first time around, but she knew he was a man who enjoyed sex and wanted it often.

They slept in the same bed, and she could feel—and see—his body reacting to hers, so she knew he wanted her. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive. He was worried he’d hurt her. She had been sore after that first time. She couldn’t deny that. She hadn’t achieved an orgasm, and that had really bothered him. She tried not to feel like a failure, and she hated that he did.

Francesca had left New York as soon as Patrick Bowden had arranged with his boss to take personal time. He went with her, and Geno was noticeably relieved. She found herself falling more in love with him when she realized just how much the detective meant to him. Lyna Marchel had no family, and the Ferraro family claimed her body, making the necessary arrangements to take the body when it would be released. She knew the Ferraros made a habit of caring for the people in their territory, but seeing it in action emphasized that care.

Amaranthe wanted to be a part of Geno’s family. Mostly she wanted to be a part of him. She looked out the thick glass that made up one wall of the room. She loved that the master bedroom was open and spacious. The platform bed sitting at the top of the spiral stairs gave them a great view of the river. There was a library and an enormous master bath with soaking tubs and a double shower. The walk-in closet could have been a small apartment. At the far end of the floor was a grand piano. She thought it had been there for show. Now she knew Geno could play.

Geno was a wonderful man. Kind and caring. Much more so than he believed he was. He had admitted, in front of his family, and in front of Patrick Bowden’s partner, that the man mattered to him. Geno thought of himself as impassive, unemotional, with a heart of stone, but he wasn’t. He had a marshmallow for a heart. He just protected it, and with good reason.

He’d been deserted by his parents and forced to grow up almost overnight. He’d been thrust into a position of immense responsibility, and he’d taken that very seriously. He was an adult for years before he’d become one biologically. He learned not to trust those closest to him. Like all children, he blamed himself for his parents’ desertion. He thought something was wrong with him. He believed he wasn’t lovable. He was certain he did things wrong. Now he believed he’d let Amaranthe down.

Amaranthe found herself drowning in love for him. She told herself it was too soon. She shouldn’t fall so hard—so fast. It didn’t matter. She saw him. Into him. Into the heart of him, and everything she was immediately fell in love. She was protective and loyal. She wanted to care for him. Make certain he had everything he ever wanted or needed. She wanted to be the one person in his life who he counted on, who he talked things over with and knew he could rely on. She wanted to be his home.



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