His thumb slid over her inner wrist before pulling her hand to his mouth. He regarded her over the top of her knuckles with his compelling dark brown eyes. “So, do you have anything else you’re really interested in?”
She didn’t like being in the shadows, but she’d carry out her responsibilities as a rider if she was needed, although there were other jobs she knew were imperative to make shadow riding go smoothly. At the top were the greeters. Everyone in the shadow rider community knew the Ferraro family was hurting for greeters.
The structure of the international shadow riders was designed with two things in mind: success in business and family survival. The families were split in order to ensure survival. Different factions with psychic gifts specialized in areas to further the family businesses. The shadow rider code of honor was extremely strict, but not necessarily legal. If someone wanted or needed help, they would first request a meeting with what the family termed “greeters.”
Brielle knew she could never be a greeter. Most greeters were former shadow riders. Or they were family members born as human lie detectors. All meetings with potential clients were taken in person—no exceptions. The greeters would chat casually with the client, asking about anything but what their purpose for the visit was. Every person had a natural rhythm, breathing, heartbeat, inflections in their voice when speaking. Once patterns were established and recognizable through casual conversation, the greeter would ask the potential client to explain why they had come. Then they simply listened to the petition for aid without comment. Because they made no promises and said very little, it was virtually impossible to trap them if the potential client was really an undercover cop.
Brielle knew the Ferraro family had lost the last of their greeters when they had lost the matriarch of their family. They had aunts and uncles who were filling in, but if her brand-new husband expected her to do that job, it wasn’t happening. She had a faulty lie detector, thanks to her family. She wasn’t about to risk shadow riders’ lives when she couldn’t trust herself to discern truth from lie.
“I can’t ever be a greeter, Elie. I know Stefano’s family needs one, but my parents and Fayette screwed me up when it comes to recognizing lies one hundred percent of the time. I just don’t have the kind of faith needed in myself.”
Elie’s teeth scraped at her knuckles, sending a million butterfly wings soaring. “I asked what you were really interested in doing, Brielle. What you’re most passionate about.”
Him. She was most passionate about him. She couldn’t say that and embarrass herself. She wasn’t going to give away the fact that she’d been daydreaming about him since she was thirteen and having erotic dreams about him as soon as she was old enough to discover what erotic meant. It was a struggle to keep the color from creeping up her neck into her face.
“I’m really, really good on a keyboard. Better than in the shadows. I’ve always had this ability to track anything down on a computer.” She could hear the difference in her voice, although she tried to suppress her excitement. She wasn’t boasting. It was the truth. In fact, she was downplaying how good she was.
She saw interest leap into his eyes. He placed their joined hands under his jaw and rubbed back and forth so his bristles skimmed over her sensitive skin.
“Can you do investigative work? Find criminals without raising suspicion that they’re being tracked?”
“You mean like the investigators do for our families before they send the riders out?”
No riders were ever sent out before two sets of investigators had thoroughly checked out the crime committed and the criminal accused of executing it. She’d already checked and she knew Stefano had two teams of investigators. They were really good, too. Not as good as she was, but excellent. He didn’t need her.
“Exactly like that, yes. You’d have to be equally good.”
“I’m better.” She was. And she could hack into any computer—even the most secure—given time.
“How are you at bookkeeping?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“The job I have in mind has investigative bookwork as well as criminal work. You would have to be able to do both.”
“Fortunately, I’m good at both.” She found herself holding her breath. It seemed impossible that she could have just fallen into the perfect job. What would the Ferraro family need that their seemingly endless cousins couldn’t provide?
“Emmanuelle married Valentino Saldi. I’m not certain if you’re aware, but he is the acknowledged head of a very large territory in Chicago. In fact, Val and Emme are some of our closest neighbors here on the lake.”