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Nicoletta stirred then, her rigid shoulders jerking, her head pulling back. She slid off the bed and went to the bar, pulling out another cold bottle of water from the mini fridge. Leaning against the long, low-slung dresser that ran along the curved wall of the aircraft, she nodded at him to continue.

“They threatened her family when she tried to have the teen removed, but she knows they’ve raped her, and she’s seen multiple bruises on her. She’s afraid of the gang, but she can’t leave this girl in that situation. She doesn’t know what to do. She has some money saved up for her retirement, and she’s willing to give all of it as a fee if the family can do something to get this teen out of the situation and bring some justice for her.”

Nicoletta had broken out in a sweat. She pressed the water bottle to her face, stepping to one side so no light, even as dim as it was, could touch her.

“Are you all right?”

“Did she really do that?” Nicoletta whispered it. There were tears in her voice.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to know. Anyone knowing could get her and her family killed. The Demons are vicious. There could be no signs pointing back to her.”

“I thought I had been completely abandoned. She came to see me and they pushed her around. I had two workers before her. They both raced away. She looked at me, and there was something in her eyes, and then she left, and I never heard from her again. They laughed and said no one would ever come for me.”

“They were wrong, weren’t they?” Taviano said softly.

He ached with the need to go to her. She looked so alone. He’d seen her like that countless times in the last few years. Standing straight. Looking just like she did now, upright, refusing to be broken when she was so torn up inside. He knew what those men had done to her, and she hated that he knew.

Still, he was going to be her husband. He wasn’t going to do what he’d been forced to do for the last three years. He slipped from the bed and went to her, choosing to ignore that she froze like a little rabbit when he got close.

“The social worker laid out the problem, and my cousin’s grandparents in New York listened very carefully, tuned for lies. Tuned for truth. They say nothing, only listen. It’s always possible an enemy has slipped in. Or someone from law enforcement. It happens often. Our family is often tested. When the visitor is finished speaking, they murmur great sympathies but promise nothing. They say how sorry they are. They ask a few questions for clarity. They might ask them to write down names. They never offer to help. The visitor goes away wondering if they wasted their time.”

Taviano slipped his arm around Nicoletta’s waist and urged her toward the two round chairs near the entryway of the room. The chairs were very comfortable, and he wanted her to rest while she could. Her body needed it whether she recognized it or not.

“There is always an investigation. There are two sets of investigators. The first team finds out everything they can about the client. The second team investigates the actual crime. Both have to be human lie detectors and they have the capability to influence others to want to talk to them. They investigate quietly and very carefully in order not to tip off the cops or anyone else who might be interested in the same crime or people.”

Nicoletta allowed him to urge her toward the chairs. She sank into one with a small sigh and immediately put her feet up on the built-in ottoman, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “I have to say, I could live in this plane, Taviano. Is it yours? If it is, it’s a seriously good reason for a girl to want to marry you.”

“Kissing me is a seriously good reason for a girl to want to marry me.”

She opened her eyes and scowled at him. “Now’s not a good time for that. Keep talking. Vegas can’t be that far from LA by plane.”

He pretended to sigh, but at least she was back to being more like herself. “Investigators have to be family members and they have to have specific psychic gifts. Once the investigation is complete, greeters, investigators and shadow riders all have to agree before the job is taken. To do that, the rider has to know every fact about both parties. Where they lived, who lived with them. Their routine. Their friends. Everything. That’s vital. First, we can’t make a mistake, and second, we don’t want the rider in jeopardy if at all possible.”

“Essentially, a rider is an assassin.” She turned her head and looked at him coolly, beneath the fan of her dark, thick lashes, daring him to tell her the truth.


Tags: Christine Feehan Shadow Riders Fantasy