Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Geno felt a brief flash of another emotion, something very close to sorrow, and caught a look passed between the two Archambault cousins. They might be distant cousins, but they had an understanding of that lineage few others did.
Geno looked from one to the other, his mind racing. Elie had a temper, but he didn’t show it to strangers, and Amaranthe was a stranger. Moreover, he had been asked by the council to see her in the capacity of an Archambault—something Elie rarely did. Why had he gotten so upset on her behalf?
Geno felt Stefano’s gray eyes on him, and he looked directly at his cousin. Stefano was thinking along the same lines as he was. If the Archambault family, born with faster reflexes, was the only family allowed to bring justice to riders, if one of them went rogue, who investigated and ultimately was sent to carry out an execution order against an Archambault rider?
“You’re one of the fastest Archambault riders they have, Elie,” Geno said. He kept his tone mild. “The family trained you from the time you were a toddler, just as they did Amara. Were you asked to carry a special poison as well?”
Elie went very still. Stefano turned his head slowly to regard the man he had taken into his family.
Geno. There was a warning note in Amaranthe’s voice. You aren’t being fair to him. That is the council’s business. He has no choice but to keep information secret.
Everyone has a choice, Amara. You could have died.
He wasn’t here, she reminded. For the first time she stroked a little caress in his mind, attempting to soothe him.
“Yes,” Elie admitted, his voice grim. “Yes, they wanted me to carry the same type of poisonous compound as Amaranthe. That was how I knew they were grooming her for a special type of service for them.”
Stefano regarded him over the tips of his steepled fingers. “These people were extremely interested in Nicoletta, Taviano’s wife, when it came out that she was related to the Archambault family, and her times in the shadows were incredible. Although she was already married to Taviano, they requested she be sent to France to train with them. Ultimately, were they looking to place her in a similar position as Amara?”
“I have no way of knowing for certain, Stefano,” Elie answered. “They prefer unattached riders, but there are very few who meet their strict requirements for the job. Obviously, I did. If Nicoletta met their requirements, even as a married rider, they would want her.”
“And so did Amaranthe,” Geno supplied.
Elie’s eyes met Amara’s. His nod was barely perceptible.
“The council needs riders who will be able to bring justice to their own ranks,” Geno said. “These special riders are trained for that. They must be faster than other riders and have that edge. And they can’t be friends with the other riders.”
“I’m uncomfortable with this conversation,” Amaranthe said. “How is this pertinent to what we’re doing here?”
Geno was silent for a moment, and then he glanced once more toward Stefano. “Because although my father was a Ferraro, his mother was an Archambault. He was incredibly fast in the shadows. It is entirely possible he was one of these riders trained to police others. I always wondered why the Archambaults trained me all those years and not Stefano or my cousin Severino, who heads up the LA family of riders. My reflexes are fast. At first, I believed it was because of the training I received from them, but I know I was born this way. Salvatore and Lucca were as well.”
Stefano’s gray eyes had gone almost liquid silver as he contemplated Amaranthe over his steepled fingers. “Let’s get back on track. You had a strong feeling these men or women who murdered the riders in Croatia were going to strike again, and you convinced the council to send you to New York. How did you go about making certain your cover was established and there was no way to cast any suspicion on you?”
Amaranthe answered immediately. “I applied to both dancing theaters and was accepted. Fortunately, Geno, your mother was on the board for both, and she particularly liked my dancing.”
He knew his mother loved the ballet. He loved books. She had introduced literature to him early as a way to make learning languages fun. Once he’d turned thirteen and his childhood had been taken completely from him, he had no time to enjoy the arts. He’d learned ballroom dancing because Ferraros were expected to be expert at all things. He’d learned to ski, snowboard, drive race cars, fly planes, but it was all part of his training. He couldn’t be mediocre at anything. He had to be the best. He hadn’t attended the ballet.
“I’m sure I will, too.” Geno turned his attention to Stefano. “Does Francesca enjoy watching ballet?”