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How many times had Stefano drilled it into them that movement drew the eye and they needed to know how to be still? She had the worst time with that. She had developed a nervous habit of twisting her fingers together when she was upset. She’d worked hard at overcoming it, but sometimes it still got the better of her. It was a flaw, and she had so many. Her worst trait was being a poor judge of character when it came to men.
She watched as the brush behind one of the men came alive and Elie wrenched the neck of one of the Demons smoothly and efficiently, lowered him to the ground and disappeared. It was over in less than a second. She hadn’t even blinked. So fast. She admired him. Respected him. He was that good. That handsome. So sweet to her. She constantly looked to find what was wrong with him—because if she liked him, something had to be wrong with him.
The leader spun around, hands on his hips, shouting for his men. There was an ominous silence in answer. He snapped an order to the man who had stayed close to him. That one nodded and jogged around the hood, calling out for the one Elie had taken out. Instantly, Vittorio was on the leader, his hands expertly positioned for the signature kill.
Elie stalked the last one. As the leader fell to the ground, Elie was on the remaining man. It was going to take a few minutes to find decent shadows to start the long ride home, but as long as they were not seen on the way back, they were golden.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Something’s on your mind, piccola,” Taviano said. They stood together just inside his music studio. He wanted to share it with her, although he had to admit, he found the thought of doing so a little nerve-wracking.
Nicoletta shot him a glance from under her long lashes, something he found sexy and fascinating, but it also set off his warning radar. Whatever it was she was wrestling with was something big, not small. Her small teeth bit down on her lower lip. She shrugged and walked away from him to look out the window of the recording booth.
He didn’t push her. Nicoletta would tell him in her own time. If he pushed her, she’d close down. Right now, she was struggling, and that surprised him. He thought they’d gotten everything out between them. He picked up his guitar, sat on the stool he liked and ran his fingers over the familiar strings.
Once he had the instrument in his hands, he immediately felt different. He imagined Ricco felt the same when he moved rope through his fingers. His guitar felt a part of him. The music inside of him he heard all the time struggled to come out. The moment the guitar was in his hands, his mind quieted. His fingers moved. He tuned it automatically. He could hear the slightest error, anything off pitch. He was certain that was one of the reasons he’d been so drawn to Nicoletta from the very beginning. Her voice was so tuned, so perfectly pitched. He would always remember the way it felt when he’d first heard her. Like a key turning in his chest to unlock something deep, something that allowed him to feel emotion, to let the lyrics he needed pour out of him with the right notes.
He played, watching her through half-closed eyes. Whatever it was she had held back hurt like hell. He wasn’t going to like it, but he knew he had to hear it. He switched to a melody he’d written after he’d met her, when he’d first seen her, that warrior woman-child. Those men had torn her down until she had been forced to choose death over what life they chose for her. He saw her, so brave, so courageous, standing up to those brutes, refusing to let them make her choices. And then trusting in total strangers, determined to live, and trusting in herself to figure it out if that went bad. She’d been … magnificent. Nothing had changed his mind about her since.
He played the melody and then sang it softly, the lyrics about the warrior, the woman-child, courageous, standing up to vicious monsters. Overcoming all odds. She was strong. She was everything a woman should be. She would grow into that woman and learn that no one would ever defeat her. She was beautiful. Brave. She was his world.
She drifted across the room to stand beside him. She touched him, her hand skimming his neck to settle on his shoulder. “Is that how you see me, Taviano?”
“Yes.” He kept his head down, his fingers moving lovingly over the strings.
“Even then, when I was so lost? You saw me like that?”
“You were still you, Nicoletta. I saw you. I always saw you. What happened to you threw you, just as what happened to me threw me. It didn’t define either one of us, nor did it defeat us.”
She ducked her head. “Benito Valdez raped me twice. It wasn’t just my step-uncles. When he got out of prison, he saw me on the street. He wanted me and I ran from him.” It came out in a rush. “I was so afraid. You’ve seen him. He’s a great brute of a man and he’s really mean. Especially to women. He really hurt me. And he told me he’d make my step-uncles give me to him. He decided I would provide him with children.”
Taviano continued to play without missing a beat. He detested the pain in her voice. He knew what it was like reliving experiences. Of course he knew. He’d read the reports. She didn’t have to tell him, but he knew she felt like she did. “Tesoro, this man is never going to get his hands on you again. Never again.”
He looked at her then, holding her gaze so she could see he was a Ferraro. He had been raised to be an assassin, a shadow rider. He didn’t like men such as Benito Valdez, and knowing how he treated women and children, he really despised him. Knowing what he’d done to Nicoletta made the man his number-one target. He wanted Nicoletta to see the killer in him. He was a predator. Benito Valdez was his prey—not just his but his entire family’s.
“Do you understand, Nicoletta? Can you see what I’m saying to you?” He didn’t stop playing, and never looked away from her.
She nodded her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I should have. I don’t know why it feels so much worse that he touched me, but it does. I didn’t want anyone to know, but then it felt like I wasn’t telling you the truth.”
“Thank you, amore mio. Everything you tell me feels like a gift.”
She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. “I know there was a very detailed report and you probably already knew it, but it didn’t come from me. I wanted it to come from me, not someone else. When I tell you things, Taviano, I feel like I’m letting them go.”
He didn’t deny that he already knew that Valdez had raped her. He’d read the reports the social worker had sent, her pleading letters, the recorded visit to the Ferraros in New York as well as the reports of the investigators in New York. The fact that he had found out three years earlier was the only reason he could find a way to distance himself from the crime enough to function at all. He wanted to wrap Nicoletta in a cocoon and protect her, but she wasn’t that kind of woman and she never would be. She wanted to be actively participating against Valdez, but she knew she wasn’t ready. This was more of a training exercise than anything else. She would stay in the shadows and Stefano would evaluate her ability to function.
He had utilized as much of their free time as possible in the meditation room, working with her on breathing techniques. That was more important than her self-defense skills at the moment, and she was already so good at that. She had to learn to handle the way the shadows ripped her body apart. The better she got at breathing her way through the pain and the way the ride screwed with imagination and feelings, the quicker she would learn to handle the pressure. Some riders never did. They had worked over and over at maneuvering through the house in the wider, easier shadows so her body had a chance to acclimate to the terrible toll riding took.
Taviano’s own father had been trained as a rider, but he was never able to be one. He used the shadows occasionally to go from one place to another, but never for work. That required too long of a time actually being in the tubes. He’d used them only for his affairs.
“I like your music, Taviano. You said you weren’t that good at playing, but that’s not the truth. You play better than many professionals.”
“I like your voice. You can sing, can’t you?” he countered.
She actual
ly stepped back away from him, those long lashes fluttering. He found himself flashing a grin, his fingers finally stopping their movement on the strings.
“You can sing. You were just about to try to tell me a giant whopper.”
“I can’t. My mother could sing. She had a beautiful voice. She sang all the time. When she was alive, the house was always filled with music. She would break into song whenever anyone was grumpy.”
“Were you grumpy?” He set his guitar in its stand.
“Sometimes,” she admitted reluctantly. “In the morning. I’m not really a morning person.”
He found himself laughing. “I’ve seen you grumpy. I can tell I’m going to have to drag you out of bed in the mornings.”
She glared, trying to look tough. He thought she only looked adorable. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m not above retaliation.”
He really laughed then and slung his arm around her neck, pulling her into him. “You’re a sweet only child, Nicoletta. I’m one of the youngest of seven. You learn fast to think of evil things to do to those who prank you.” He walked her out of his music studio.
She balked at the door, stopping him with a hand on his chest. “Your music is really good, Taviano. I suspect you already know that. Someone has to have told you, one of your friends. You know people in the industry. Don’t you even own companies that produce music and videos? I thought the Ferraros had their own label.”
“We’re silent partners, although not so silent anymore,” he admitted.
Some of the top musicians had jammed with him. They’d listened to his singles and wanted him to record the songs or allow the artists to record them. He’d refused. They were private, lyrics born of his private pain. Nicoletta’s private pain. Their struggles to overcome their feelings of inadequacy. Their growing strength, finding it first in themselves and then in each other. Each song was a record of something very personal, although no one would ever know that. Just Nicoletta.
“My songs are for you.”
She looked around the studio. It was as professional as it got. Then she looked up at him. He knew immediately, by the way her dark eyes glistened at him, that she got it. “You’re such a beautiful man, Taviano.” She put one hand over her heart. “I’ll learn to sing the songs if you really want me to, if they’re just for us. You gave me such an enormous, amazing gift. I want to hear every single thing you’ve ever written.”
“I want to hear you bring them to life.” Her voice would. She had that perfect pitch and the ability to make the lyrics weep with emotion or soar with hope.
“You really have never shared your music with your family? Not Stefano or Vittorio? Or Emme?” She knew he was particularly close to them.
“The lyrics were too close to the truth of my life. I would never sing in front of them anyway, but if they asked me to read the lyrics to them, Stefano would know just by listening to my voice or looking at my face. He’s very in tune with all of us.” Taviano walked her out of the studio and then locked the doors.
“Why lock them? Your family can just get in anyway.”
“We use an invention of Ricco’s to keep anyone from sliding under a door using shadows. I’ve installed them so no one can get into my studio. They would have to break in the conventional way. I would know, and I wouldn’t be too happy. On top of that, all of us have a great deal of respect for one another and our privacy. When I’m not home, security is activated and it’s very tight. If you’re here by yourself, I would want you to have the security system on.”
Taviano was careful not to make that an order. Nicoletta didn’t need anyone ordering her around. She was intelligent and capable of making up her own mind about security. The Ferraros were always going to be at risk. She’d been around the family long enough to know there were always threats made against them. They were highly visible. They made enemies. They carefully cultivated a certain image that made others think they were useless with far too much money, or businessmen buying and selling companies others had worked to build up.
“I want to be able to go outside and utilize the patio and woods,” she said. “Is there a way to do that and still have the security system intact?”
“Yes.” Taviano hesitated. He didn’t want to sound as if he was bragging. All of the Ferraros were born with various gifts. He had a knack with electronics and liked to tinker, to come up with new gadgets. He could disrupt security systems easily because he was always building new ones.
“You invented something new, didn’t you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Yes.” His admission was low.
“There’s so much to learn. All of you are light-years ahead of me.” Nicoletta sighed. “I was studying night and day before we got married. You’re a bit of a distraction.”
He laughed again when she frowned. He couldn’t help himself, he bent to brush her lips with his. The moment he felt that soft bow, his stomach did a slow roll and he locked his arm across her back, dragging her closer to him, tilting her head back so he could kiss her. That mouth. All flames. Alive with heat. With some special addictive aphrodisiac that roared through his body straight to his groin. A powerful, potent fire that invaded every cell and turned him inside out.
She made him feel things he’d thought impossible. She brought him roaring to life in so many ways. He tightened his arms around her when he lifted his head, just holding her close to him, letting the intense emotions wash through him.
“Am I doing the right thing taking you with us, Nicoletta? Should I keep you safe the way Stefano does Francesca? You’re the most important person in my world. I don’t want you ever to think I love you any less than he loves her, or Vittorio loves Grace, or Giovanni loves Sasha. I know every time you go into the shadows it’s a risk.”
“Why would you ask me that, Taviano?” Nicoletta tilted her head to look up at him, a small frown on her face.
She reached up and rubbed at his jaw, her palm cupping the side of his face. There was something so gentle and loving about the way she touched him that his heart turned over. She could just turn him inside out with such a small thing as framing his face or rubbing the pad of her finger along his jaw. He knew it was the way she touched him. He felt her love in the way she touched him. He saw it on her face.
“I have to be in the shadows with you. I can’t explain it to you, but the compulsion is very strong. It’s a drive. A need. I’ve had it since I was very young. I used to play like a bunny, hopping in and out of the shadows. My mom would watch me and tell me I was just like her when she was little. We’d laugh together all the time.” She smiled up at him. “I’d forgotten that until just now. I’d forgotten so many things about my mother that I’m just letting myself remember. It wasn’t like I disappeared or anything. I had clothes on, but I liked to play with shadows.”
Taviano nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “I know you want to be in the shadows, Nicoletta, but it is risky. We train for years to do the kind of work we do. You’re not ready.”
“I know I’m not. I’m not about to get in your way. But I have to start somewhere. I was careful when I was with you before. I wouldn’t have insisted on going with you once we knew Pia and Bianca were safe at the hotel, but Clariss might have needed me. I couldn’t let her be alone if those men had raped her. That was a very real possibility. I wasn’t just insisting to be a pain.”
“I’m well aware of that, tesoro.”
Nicoletta wasn’t the type of woman to throw a temper tantrum to get her way. She didn’t insist she was as good as others who had trained for years at their job. She was highly intelligent and weighed each situation carefully before making decisions about the best thing to do. She tried to keep her emotions from ruling her. She was young, and that wasn’t always possible. He was hotheaded, and at times it wasn’t easy for him to push aside his own emotions and stay in control, making judgments impersonally.
“I want to learn. The more I’m exposed to this, the faster my body and my mind learn it.
I don’t know why I work that way, but I do. Each time I was in the shadows, I was sick, yes, but I could feel the difference in the way every tube worked both on my body and in the way the shadow pulled at us. Fast or slow, the way it moved us along. The corners, sharp or a steady curve. Eventually, I could anticipate them, and I couldn’t see at all.”
He knew everything she said was true. She had been sick, but she had also been more relaxed, riding with him, her body tuned to his, moving with his in a rhythm. She had been anticipating the curves and corners. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t very real dangers always present. The shadows won’t protect you from one of our enemies spraying bullets through the room if you’re sitting in the mouth of a tube. You can’t navigate on your own yet. No one has taught you that. You’d be lost in the shadows, Nicoletta. Even if you didn’t get hit by a bullet and you managed to dive into the tube and the shadows took you, you’d never find your way out again.”
He closed his eyes with a groan of regret. “I never should have taken you with me in the first place. Not until you knew how to get from one place to another.”
“You mean all the maps of Chicago Mariko and Emme insisted I memorize? They drilled it into me that I had to know my way around every single city that I went to. I needed to be studying all the time. Fortunately, I have a pretty remarkable memory. I can look at something and file it away. Mariko said that wasn’t good enough and said she wanted me to study the map of Chicago, so I did. Now I know why she insisted.”
“You think you could figure out how to maneuver through the shadows riding that fast, scared and in the dark, disoriented and possibly sick, alone, and know where you were in order to figure out where you have to go to get out?”
She put both hands on his chest and pushed to give herself room to step back so she could look up at him, her dark eyes meeting his. “The one thing I know above anything else, Taviano, is that you do whatever it is you have to do in order to survive. I would do it. And then I’d go back, and I’d find you. If you were in trouble, I’d get to you.” There was calm conviction in her voice.