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)
You know what I am. Same as you. I know what to look out for. Salvatore sounded—and felt—completely confident.
He could have it on his fingernails. On anything, she warned.
Geno didn’t like the sound of that, but it was true. The male server had a needle concealed in his hand, but had the woman? What if this chemical had been on her fingernails? The Ferraros had chemists in their family. Many of the rider families did. They had no idea whose family was trying to wipe out the riders.
Salvatore. Amaranthe. We need this one alive. Drive him toward me.
We need you and Stefano alive, Amaranthe countered. No matter what, Geno, we’ll solve this thing, but they aren’t getting either of you. They put at least three of their people on killing Stefano. It could just as easily have been you.
Amaranthe was a good match for him. Geno might be frustrated that she didn’t back down and give him what he demanded, but he knew she was capable—not only capable, there in the shadows—she might just be superior. He didn’t know if she was faster than he was and he didn’t care. It only mattered to him that she stayed alive.
He knew he could easily have been chosen and trained by Jean-Claude to be one of his “police force.” He should have realized one or both brothers would be trained in his place once it was determined his character was a deterrent. Lucca was more like him. He appeared easygoing, but he had a streak of mean in him, just as Geno did.
Geno had always considered Salvatore the best of his family. He had genuine compassion for others. Geno and Lucca had compassion, but it was buried deep, and it took a lot to bring it to the surface. With Salvatore, it was there immediately. He saw the best in people first. Geno and Lucca saw the worst—they expected the worst, and with the people they dealt with—they were usually right. Geno despised that he hadn’t foreseen that Jean-Claude would choose Salvatore in his place.
Salvatore was a natural choice. He would see the need for someone to police the Archambaults. He wouldn’t like it, but he would do it out of duty. He would see the need the council had for someone to go after rogue riders, extremely dangerous ones. Again, Salvatore would view the task as necessary.
Now, Geno could understand why his youngest brother had insisted he wanted to have an arranged marriage and settle with a shadow rider to produce children. Geno wouldn’t be shocked if Jean-Claude and the council had pushed Salvatore in that direction. That was one order he could—and would—counter. Salvatore could wait a few more years on the off chance he might meet a woman and fall in love.
Now that he had a direction the assassin had taken and Geno knew where the other riders were, he stepped off the main tube he was using to follow Amaranthe into a much smaller feeder tube. It was slick as hell and fast as lightning. Instantly, it felt as if his entire body was being ripped to pieces. The faster the shadow tube, the worse the effects on the body. This one shredded, turning the body inside out, tearing the eyes from the sockets and leaking brain matter into the tube.
Geno had been shadow riding from the time he was very young. He’d experienced the various hallucinations produced from riding the more dangerous types of tubes while feeling torn apart. He had experience with every kind of shadow. The fast, slick ones were always the worst. Those were the ones most riders avoided if possible. They were painful, and riders could easily become disoriented and lost. Some lost consciousness. Once that happened, death could occur quickly. Geno’s vision and reflexes always remained steady in the faster, slicker tubes, even when the hallucinations became violent. He never lost sight of his surroundings or the maps in his head. He hadn’t even as a child.
He stepped from one shadow to the next, determined to catch up with the assassin. He was certain the man was heading for an old wine cellar at the far end of the docks that gave access to a storm drain. From there, the man would have a clear path to anywhere in the city.
The man was injured. The blow from Amaranthe had jarred his heart. She had put her body weight behind the double kick. Not only her body weight, but she’d also leapt through the air with good speed, and that had doubled the force of the jolt when she’d kicked him.
Geno made no sound as he came out of the shadows, halting just in the opening of the tube. He got his first good look at the assassin. He didn’t recognize the rider. He didn’t know the family the man came from. He was tall, blond. Now he was facing Amaranthe, his blue eyes narrowed and focused on her. She appeared tiny, a slender ballerina in her sparkling navy tulle dress, looking anything but an elite rider.