Free Shadow Rider by Christine Feehan Page B

looked at, the Ferraro books were in order. They had never had an indictment against them.
    Three times, undercover cops had managed to infiltrate deep enough to gain an audience with the greeters. All three times, the greeters had known they were being lied to and played their part beautifully, acting as if they had no idea what was being asked of them, suddenly realizing and immediately acting shocked, horrified and outraged. Each time the undercover cop had been sent on his way.
    â€œThere’s no point in trying to call Ricco and Vittorio back early,” Stefano said, a resigned sigh slipping out. “Francesca had better be all right, Franco, or Emilio and Enzo will be answering to me.”
    Franco sent him a faint grin. “Emilio and Enzo already know they’re going to be answering to you. They aren’t looking forward to it, but they expect it.”
    â€œI’m not that bad,” Stefano lied. His eyes met his cousin’s and he found himself smiling ruefully. “Okay, maybe I am.”
    He was silent a moment. “Did Emilio say what she was shopping for?” He was inexplicably pleased that she was using his money. He hadn’t thought she would. He’d worried she would hand it all to Dina and the homeless woman would kill herself with alcohol poisoning.
    â€œI believe it was shoes,” Franco said.
    Stefano nodded. Francesca needed a good pair of shoes—several of them, but he couldn’t exactly buy her a new wardrobe right away. He’d had a hard enough time forcing his coat and the money on her. He had to be patient. In the same way he prepared for a job, he had to formulate a plan of attack. He was in for the greatest fight of his life, and he had to win. There was no other option.
    â€œI’m thankful to Dina. She had a coat last week, and you know how she is, Franco: she loses one every month.
Grazie Dio.
I love that Francesca gave Dina her coat.” He took another sip of Scotch. He especially loved knowing that Francesca was wrapped in his coat.

CHAPTER FOUR
    S tefano stood very still, looking into the window of Masci’s. Francesca was at the counter, smiling at old man Lozzi. She looked beautiful—and alive. Real. Not the fantasy he’d feared he’d made up in his mind. The tension, coiled so tightly in his gut, eased just a little. He had needed to see for himself that she was unharmed. The glass was tinted and he couldn’t see details, but she moved easily. She was friendly, but she didn’t actually engage in informative chatter.
    â€œSatisfied?” Giovanni asked.
    â€œNot yet.” Stefano turned to face his brother, his features set and hard. “Let’s go home. I want to see those fuckers and find out what the hell they thought they were doing.”
    Giovanni slid back behind the wheel of their Aston Martin while Stefano climbed in on the passenger side. Both were used to high-performance luxury and neither noticed the smooth, purring ride as the car glided from the curb and into traffic.
    â€œEmilio said it’s the same three-man crew we’ve been hunting again. We only have two of them. The third is in the wind, or maybe he wasn’t there that night.”
    Stefano didn’t reply. Instead, he stared out the window, his gut churning. They could have killed her. The three muggers were notorious for their violence and it was escalating with every robbery they committed. Vittorio had “talked” with two of them once already when they’d mugged a woman in their territory. He’d gotten her money back from them andmade them pay for her injuries. He’d also extracted a promise that no member of the Ferraro community would ever be targeted. That was their one chance. The only chance.
    â€œAre we looking for the other one, Gee?” Stefano asked, still staring out the window at the passing buildings. He loved their small village within the city. He loved the people there. Some