said a shadow rider administered justice, but no, he had to just come right out and call it what it truly was. He killed people. There was no getting around it. Cousins called him in from New York or Los Angeles and he did his duty. He killed a criminal the law couldn’t touch.
He didn’t take his eyes from her face. She continued looking down at him without blinking, her green eyes wide, looking so shocked he wanted to kiss the look off her face. Her red hair fell in a long slide out of the messy knot she liked to wear in the bathtub or hot tub. Her breasts rose and fell, betraying her agitation. Finally, she shook her head.
“That can’t be true, Vittorio. I don’t believe you.”
“Why wouldn’t you believe me? You’ve believed everything else I’ve told you and you can hear lies. Do I sound like I’m lying?” He did his best not to sound bitter.
He had accepted his life. He was born a rider. He was a damn good rider and more, he was good at his job. He was fast, and he dispensed justice without the criminal feeling pain—even if he felt they deserved it. He was always able to keep his emotions under control. Sometimes the things he read in the reports or saw in person gave him nightmares, but what he did, he wouldn’t do unless he was absolutely sure the criminal had committed the crimes. Still, one could feel bitterness when their entire life was duty and the only thing they’d ever asked for themselves might walk away and take everything with them.
She took a deep breath and shook her head a second time. “Honey, you need to go a little slower. You jumped over something and I’m not computing what you’re saying. I know the heart of you and I’m not wrong. I can’t be wrong. I gave you my absolute trust. I put myself in your hands. I have to believe in you.”
He’d shaken her. Shaken her faith in herself. Shaken her faith in him, but she was determined to hang on, to see it through.
He rubbed her leg because he had to touch her. Had to stay connected. “You’re right, vita mia. I did jump us forward. I’m risking everything telling you about my family. For the first time that I can remember, I’m totally fucking things up when I need to explain everything very carefully to you.”
She leaned toward him. “Start again with the shadow riders. You’re given a report that says absolutely Haydon Phillips is a serial killer. What do you do?”
“The report is given to Stefano. He’s the head of the family.”
“Not Eloisa?”
He shook his head. “She was replaced by Stefano years ago. She was—difficult. As riders, you have to have absolute faith in the head of the family. He has the last word in everything. Every single thing. We all defer to Stefano, which means he carries a tremendous burden. He’s responsible for our safety. For our reputations. He has to make absolutely certain those reports are correct and, in fact, the investigation continues even after the report is given to the shadow riders.”
Vittorio continued to stroke her leg. Her skin was soft. She never once pulled away from him and he needed her right then. He needed her acceptance of him in spite of the truth he’d blurted out like a madman. His fingers danced up her leg to the tiny strip of leather covering her sex. He stroked the tight red curls between the laced cord that held that tiny strip in place while his mind sought for the right words.
“I love you, Grace.” He had shown her. He’d implied it. He wasn’t certain he had ever said the words to her, but he knew he meant it. He hoped she knew it, too. He touched her with love. He looked at her with love, he knew because every time he saw her, his heart melted, or clenched or just plain ached with love for her.
Her green eyes remained absolutely steady on his face. “I love you, too. I do. I know I do, but we have to talk about this. I want to slow down and go back to Eloisa. I’m not an over-the-board feminist, but I do believe in equality, and if Eloisa is your mother, no matter how difficult, she is still head of your family, isn’t she?”
His first gut reaction was instant denial, but he was used to taking