Shadow Rider
Page 43
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Stefano,” Emilio cautioned. “I know you have every right to be angry. No way did Joanna know that Francesca would be spied on by the owner of this dump.”
“You and I both know Tidwell was setting up to fucking rape Francesca. Joanna sleeps good at night, and so does her family because of us. We give them that. The moment she knew Francesca was my woman she should have gotten her out of this shit hole. Tidwell saw Francesca undressing. Showering. He looked at her without her consent. He’s a fucking dead man, but Joanna needs to answer to la famiglia. You tell Vittorio that I don’t like the answers, it will be me conducting the next interview and I won’t be polite.”
“Stefano . . .” Emilio cautioned.
“You like Joanna. You’re friends with her family. So am I, but Emilio, right now, I don’t trust myself. By now, Vittorio knows what is happening here. He’ll be as pissed as I am. I need you to do this right.”
There was a long silence. Emilio sighed. “You’re not sending me away because . . .”
“No. I need to make certain none of us do anything stupid tonight. If I was the one questioning her, I have no idea what I’d do. I need you to do this for me, Emilio.”
“Go get your woman, Stefano,” Emilio advised, capitulating. “Everyone’s going to feel a whole hell of a lot better when she’s safe.”
“Vinci has to make certain the deal is done a couple of days earlier. Can he get the papers filed with the correct dates?”
“That’s his department, and he’s never let us down. He’s really good at what he does, Stefano. You can’t micromanage this. Just go get her,” Giovanni advised. “I’m holding on by a thread, too. One of us has to be sane here, and I’m going to lose it if you don’t get her out of this place.”
Stefano took a deep breath and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Famiglia. This was how it had worked for centuries. They had developed into a single entity. One stepping up when another needed them. Stefano was always the leader, but his brothers were more than capable of leading. They were every bit as dedicated and trained as he was. He was grateful for Giovanni. Right then, his temper had no outlet and he was thinking with his emotions, not his brain. Ordinarily, if it was personal, he would never have touched the mark, but he couldn’t stop himself from going after Tidwell. He’d never had such a loss of control. He needed to get Francesca out of there as much as his brother and other family members needed him to do so.
He turned on his heel and made for the stairs. Ricco waited at the top. Their men were shadow figures, spread throughout the building, keeping Francesca from harm. The stairs were dark in several places, dangerous for anyone, let alone single women. The rage smoldering in the pit of his stomach grew with every step he took.
He was angry with Joanna, who had to have known this apartment building was worse than substandard. Most of all, he was angry with himself for not checking on Francesca’s living conditions before he went out of town. He had assumed she was staying with Joanna until she got on her feet. It was a very misguided presumption. A mistake. Stefano didn’t like making mistakes.
He was a protective man. He had been born that way. Every rider was. The need to protect and control was bred into every single one of them. Those two traits were so ingrained in them, there was no getting either characteristic out. No getting around them.
“One incident I didn’t like,” Ricco said. “Earlier, Enzo reported that a man, not a resident of the building, had twice come up to this floor. He actually walked right up to Francesca’s door, paused, looked around, and when he spotted Enzo, took off. A few minutes ago, he actually came back into the building. There aren’t any security cameras and he wore a hoodie. No one got a good look at his face, but from Enzo’s description, I’m guessing it was the same man.”
Stefano took a deep breath. What the hell was going on? Everything around him was spinning out of control when he was all about control—when control was absolutely necessary. He was taking control back. Francesca was just going to have to deal with the truth about him and the life she would lead with him as her man.
“Anyone sees him again, scoop him up and take him to the warehouse. I’m getting her out of here tonight. I’ll take her to my penthouse suite at the Ferraro.” Their hotel was a study in sheer luxury. He had several homes, scattered around the country and overseas as well, but when he was in Chicago, which was most of the time, he stayed at the hotel in the penthouse.
Ricco nodded and trailed after his brother. Stefano knew his brother wasn’t protecting him so much as protecting anyone who might try to stop him. The second flight of stairs was almost completely dark, lit only by one dull bulb, which gave off little light. The carpet was filthy and threadbare. Anyone could trip and fall with the holes in it. His temper rose another notch.
“You and I both know Tidwell was setting up to fucking rape Francesca. Joanna sleeps good at night, and so does her family because of us. We give them that. The moment she knew Francesca was my woman she should have gotten her out of this shit hole. Tidwell saw Francesca undressing. Showering. He looked at her without her consent. He’s a fucking dead man, but Joanna needs to answer to la famiglia. You tell Vittorio that I don’t like the answers, it will be me conducting the next interview and I won’t be polite.”
“Stefano . . .” Emilio cautioned.
“You like Joanna. You’re friends with her family. So am I, but Emilio, right now, I don’t trust myself. By now, Vittorio knows what is happening here. He’ll be as pissed as I am. I need you to do this right.”
There was a long silence. Emilio sighed. “You’re not sending me away because . . .”
“No. I need to make certain none of us do anything stupid tonight. If I was the one questioning her, I have no idea what I’d do. I need you to do this for me, Emilio.”
“Go get your woman, Stefano,” Emilio advised, capitulating. “Everyone’s going to feel a whole hell of a lot better when she’s safe.”
“Vinci has to make certain the deal is done a couple of days earlier. Can he get the papers filed with the correct dates?”
“That’s his department, and he’s never let us down. He’s really good at what he does, Stefano. You can’t micromanage this. Just go get her,” Giovanni advised. “I’m holding on by a thread, too. One of us has to be sane here, and I’m going to lose it if you don’t get her out of this place.”
Stefano took a deep breath and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Famiglia. This was how it had worked for centuries. They had developed into a single entity. One stepping up when another needed them. Stefano was always the leader, but his brothers were more than capable of leading. They were every bit as dedicated and trained as he was. He was grateful for Giovanni. Right then, his temper had no outlet and he was thinking with his emotions, not his brain. Ordinarily, if it was personal, he would never have touched the mark, but he couldn’t stop himself from going after Tidwell. He’d never had such a loss of control. He needed to get Francesca out of there as much as his brother and other family members needed him to do so.
He turned on his heel and made for the stairs. Ricco waited at the top. Their men were shadow figures, spread throughout the building, keeping Francesca from harm. The stairs were dark in several places, dangerous for anyone, let alone single women. The rage smoldering in the pit of his stomach grew with every step he took.
He was angry with Joanna, who had to have known this apartment building was worse than substandard. Most of all, he was angry with himself for not checking on Francesca’s living conditions before he went out of town. He had assumed she was staying with Joanna until she got on her feet. It was a very misguided presumption. A mistake. Stefano didn’t like making mistakes.
He was a protective man. He had been born that way. Every rider was. The need to protect and control was bred into every single one of them. Those two traits were so ingrained in them, there was no getting either characteristic out. No getting around them.
“One incident I didn’t like,” Ricco said. “Earlier, Enzo reported that a man, not a resident of the building, had twice come up to this floor. He actually walked right up to Francesca’s door, paused, looked around, and when he spotted Enzo, took off. A few minutes ago, he actually came back into the building. There aren’t any security cameras and he wore a hoodie. No one got a good look at his face, but from Enzo’s description, I’m guessing it was the same man.”
Stefano took a deep breath. What the hell was going on? Everything around him was spinning out of control when he was all about control—when control was absolutely necessary. He was taking control back. Francesca was just going to have to deal with the truth about him and the life she would lead with him as her man.
“Anyone sees him again, scoop him up and take him to the warehouse. I’m getting her out of here tonight. I’ll take her to my penthouse suite at the Ferraro.” Their hotel was a study in sheer luxury. He had several homes, scattered around the country and overseas as well, but when he was in Chicago, which was most of the time, he stayed at the hotel in the penthouse.
Ricco nodded and trailed after his brother. Stefano knew his brother wasn’t protecting him so much as protecting anyone who might try to stop him. The second flight of stairs was almost completely dark, lit only by one dull bulb, which gave off little light. The carpet was filthy and threadbare. Anyone could trip and fall with the holes in it. His temper rose another notch.
