Shadow Keeper (Shadow #3)

Shadow Keeper (Shadow #3)

Christine Feehan



For all my sisters of the heart.

This one is for you.





FOR MY READERS


Be sure to go to christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE ebook of Dark Desserts. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at Christine @christinefeehan.com. I would love to hear from you.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


As always, I need to thank people for their help. Writing is a solitary business, but it helps when others take care of so many other details of my life in order to give me the opportunity to write when I need to. Special thanks to Domini Walker and Denise Feehan for their continued support. To Sheila English for helping with extra proofing. And also to Brian Feehan for competing with me. You know how that makes me write faster!





CHAPTER ONE


“Did you really think you were falling in love with her?” Giovanni Ferraro asked his cousin. “Seriously, Salvatore?” He pulled his gaze from the little cocktail waitress winding her way through the VIP tables on the second tier. He’d been watching her for most of the night. Each time something captured his attention, he found his gaze straying back to her.

It was her smile. She could light up the room despite the darkness of the nightclub. There was something innocent and wholesome about her, even wearing the club uniform. She was just the type of woman he would never ever get near, but he couldn’t stop watching her until the hurt in his cousin’s voice dragged his attention back to those around the table.

Salvatore Ferraro shrugged. He was from New York and had a slight accent his Chicago cousin didn’t have. “I wanted the chance at least. I’ve given up thinking I’m going to find the perfect one, the one my family wants.”

There was an edge of bitterness in his voice Giovanni had never heard before, but he understood it. They were shadow riders, and unlike anyone else in their families, their lives were not their own. They meted out justice and protected their people. They were required to begin training at the age of two, so they didn’t have childhoods or friendships outside their families. They were assigned bodyguards because, although they were lethal by the time they were in their teens, they were considered too valuable to their families to risk. They also weren’t allowed to fall in love with just anyone.

“We don’t have that luxury and you know it,” Geno, Salvatore’s brother, pointed out.

“She was just like every other woman I’ve met,” Salvatore said.

Giovanni hated the underlying hurt in his voice. “What happened?” He already knew because it had happened to all of them. A woman professed undying love when in reality she was after their money. The Ferraros owned international banks, hotels, nightclubs and casinos as well as many other businesses. They lived life in the fast lane, and that drew a certain type of woman.

“She used the ‘I’ll take the condom to the bathroom for you’ ploy. Of course, she had a syringe. Then it was she loved me so much she would do anything for a baby.” Salvatore pushed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Dio, this life is fucked.”

“Stefano found someone,” Taviano, Giovanni’s youngest brother, pointed out. “It could happen. Francesca just walked into his life, right there off the street. You never know.”

“I know I won’t find her here,” Salvatore said bitterly, looking around the club at the women flashing smiles at them and trying to get their attention by shifting in their seats and opening their legs to show they wore no panties under their club clothing.

“I’ve got something that might cheer you up,” Giovanni said. “And you could make a little money. We all have to agree to the payout.”

Salvatore looked up, interested. Vittorio, Giovanni’s brother, groaned. “Not again.”

“We need to cheer him up,” Giovanni insisted.

“I’m all for getting drunk if we’re betting on shots,” Salvatore said.

“Something a little more interesting,” Taviano said. “It’s a game with a point system. Each point is worth a thousand dollars from each of us. Well, not the first point, that’s only worth a hundred just to make life better.”

“I have to keep track of points?” Salvatore asked, groaning.

“A thousand dollars from each of you?” Geno grinned at them. “I’m in.”

“The point system is easy, Salvatore,” Giovanni said, leaning across the table toward his cousin. He had to raise his voice a little to be heard above the music. “It’s an honor system. One point when a woman asks to dance with you. You can’t ask her, she has to ask you. Every single thing has to be the woman’s idea. Two points if she lets you feel her breasts on the dance floor. She has to initiate it by giving you the signal, rubbing herself all over you or guiding your hands to her. Three for feeling her breasts under her clothes, skin to skin. Again, she has to be the one to expose herself to you. Undo her buttons, take your hand and put it on her, anything like that. Four is hands on her ass or pussy over panties. Five, the goal is under the panties. It has to be on the dance floor or it doesn’t count. She absolutely has to initiate every step at all times. There’s no going into the dark, because just about any little fortune hunter will let you feel her up if she knows who you are.”

Salvatore sank back in his chair, shaking his head, his white teeth flashing as he grinned at Giovanni, Vittorio, Taviano, and his brother. “I should have known you’d invent a game out of this. You’re so competitive.”

“Had to do something or I would have gone out of my mind.” Giovanni looked around him at the crowd of writhing bodies. “Easy pickings. They’re all out to trap you, so have fun turning the tables.”

“What if we manage a blow job?” Salvatore asked.

“Seven points,” Giovanni said.

“Only seven?” Geno asked. “I’m guessing she still has to initiate.”

“It has to be her idea. You’re getting a blow job, and the possibility of a whole hell of a lot of money from the rest of us,” Giovanni said. “It’s ten if you manage to nab one that will go all the way, but you have to be willing to be out in the open. No bathroom stalls. A thousand a point from everyone playing. Put your names in the pot, and happy hunting because I assure you, gentlemen, you are being hunted right now.” Giovanni leaned back in his chair, smirking.

“Should be easy enough,” Geno said. “There’s a lot of women who are on the hunt to land a big fish and I’m always willing to oblige them, but somehow they slip right off that hook.”

Another round of laughter went up. Giovanni felt eyes on him and glanced up, across the table, to the waitress standing there with her tray of drinks. It was the one he’d been watching all night. She didn’t blush when he winked at her, if anything she gave him a look of pure disgust. She’d heard every word. He didn’t change expression. Who cared if she heard? She worked for him. He stared her right in the eye.