Shadow Keeper

by Christine Feehan

  Giovanni and Taviano both were on their feet and moving fast. The MMA table was only a few feet away, and Giovanni tossed men out of the way as if they were dolls, got to Sasha, pulled her off Aaron and pushed her behind him. Taviano caught her and handed her off to Emilio and Enzo, two of their private bodyguards, who had followed them.

  Corlege took a swing at Giovanni as Aaron stood up. Giovanni ducked the punch and landed three on Corlege so fast his hands appeared a blur. The first punch doubled Corlege over, the second straightened him up and the third knocked him out. Giovanni turned toward Aaron, who backed up, hands in the air. The rest of the fighters were up as well, looking to spring into action. One, Tom Mariland, snapped a roundhouse kick at Giovanni's head. Giovanni blocked it so hard, the leg slammed down, dead. Giovanni followed the block with a sweep, taking both legs out from under the man and sending him crashing to the floor.

  "Wait, wait," Aaron said. "Everyone stop. Giovanni, man, we've been friends for years. We were just celebrating. I'm a little drunk and things got out of hand. Let me apologize to your waitress. It won't happen again. I swear it won't."

  Giovanni wanted to deck him on principle, but truthfully, he'd acted nearly as bad. Aaron was a good man and a friend he'd known since childhood. He didn't know much about James Corlege, or Tom Mariland, but they'd been drinking heavily as well.

  "You can leave her a good tip," Giovanni decreed. "And Aaron, you know me. Your friends don't." It was a warning that despite the training, Giovanni could take them. Aaron had come to his house a few times to train. He knew Giovanni could wipe up the floor with any of the fighters. "No more problems tonight. I'm not going to have my waitress lose out on her tips on this tier by sending her somewhere else. Keep your hands off her. You'll go, not her."

  Aaron nodded. "You got it. Again, I'm really sorry."

  Giovanni bent down and picked up the tray. The fighters were pulling Corlege off the floor and getting him into a chair. Corlege, looking a little groggy, glared up at Giovanni. "That felt like I ran into a fucking freight train. I've taken a lot of hard hits, but never felt anything like that."

  A few others helped Tom Mariland up. He didn't say anything, but he did eye Giovanni warily.

  Giovanni ignored the man and turned back to the waitress. Emilio and Enzo made a solid wall on either side of Sasha. Giovanni went right up to her.

  "Are you all right?"

  She nodded. He could see the pulse pounding frantically in her throat. He reached for her, taking her out of his bodyguards' hands. Pulling her in close, until he felt her body pressed to his, he hugged her gently. "I'm sorry this happened. We're protective of our servers and we definitely should have gotten here faster. Were you hurt?"

  She shook her head. He could feel the fine tremors running through her body. He knew he couldn't hold her forever or she would think he was just as bad as Aaron. Also, the paparazzi were out in force. Flashes had been going off everywhere during the brief exchange. He angled them so his body prevented pictures of her. Very reluctantly he let go of her.

  "Take a fifteen-minute break and then come back. No one is going to put their hands on you again. Anyone tries it, you tell me or security immediately and they're gone."

  "I'll be fine," she said, her voice steady. She took the tray. "Thank you. I wasn't certain what to do. I know they're regulars and pay a good deal of money for having those tables."

  "That's all they're paying for. They don't get to touch you or any other server. They want that kind of service they can go to a strip joint." He knew, after overhearing the rules of his ridiculous game, he sounded like a hypocrite, but he had to make her understand. "You're under our family's protection, Sasha. The nonsense I was spouting was a load of crap. No one touches you without your consent. Not ever. You understand? Security should have come to our table when it was clear you were uncomfortable with what I was saying to you. You understand? You don't have to put up with anything."

  She nodded. "Thank you." She turned away, and he nodded to his bodyguards.

  Emilio stepped in front of her. "I'll take you down so the cameras stay out of your face."

  She flashed Emilio the smile Giovanni wished was for him alone. Up close to her, his body reacted. Not just his cock, his entire body. She did something to him he didn't understand or necessarily want, but it wasn't going away. It was getting stronger. He went back to his table where West was waiting again.

  "You were right. She shouldn't have been up there."

  "No, that wasn't her fault. They've had a lot to drink. She's gorgeous though. Let her finish out the night. They're ordering more drinks because of her. She's an asset. Just give her the training in what to do if she's in trouble. Taviano spotted the trouble before it really got off the ground. But, West, you go look at the security tapes. I was harassing her big-time. I put my hands on her. Where the fuck was security? They should have been all over that."

  West nodded. He held out his hand for the folder on his employee, and Giovanni put it in his hands, detesting giving it up. He hoped he'd made a little headway with her, but he doubted it, not if the smile she'd given Emilio was anything to go by--she hadn't given him one.

  The rest of the night slipped away. He danced because he was supposed to, but he didn't play the game and he knew he would owe the winner thousands of dollars. It didn't matter. His gaze followed the waitress until he felt like a creepy stalker. There was nothing he could think of to make things better between them.

  She served the drinks to his table every time they sank into their seats, making eye contact with all of them, Taviano, Vittorio, Salvatore and Geno. It was only Giovanni she didn't really look at. She remembered every drink and who it belonged to. He switched to coffee and water abruptly right after midnight. They'd learned the trick of appearing to drink a lot, and then hydrating. All riders had to be sharp at all times, and that meant not getting plastered. Only Taviano didn't have to stay sober because he'd just come off a job. They could drink after a mission or on special occasions, but not now, while they were working, and technically, Giovanni and the others were working.

  The group at Darby's table was beginning to get more than rowdy. They had become obnoxious, taunting the MMA fighters, but Aaron, true to his promise, was keeping those at his table under control. On the dance floor, two of the college boys ended up being thrown out for pushing a woman against the wall and putting their hands on her. Twice, West talked to Darby and security moved a little closer to the table.

  "Can't believe that little bastard is going to risk Stefano coming to see him," Vittorio said. "He wants the attention, creating a problem in the Ferraro nightclub."

  Giovanni had to agree. He had turned his chair so it put him in a direct line with the Darby table. Only the MMA table was between them. His gut tightened when he saw John whispering to Jerry Higgens, the single cameraman the club had allowed in with them. Around the table, Darby's frat brothers were grinning, turning their heads toward the stairway and Sasha as she made another trip toward the group. Higgens swung the camera in her direction.

  "Fuck," Giovanni whispered. "They're planning something."

  He was up and moving, but he knew it was too late. Even if he called out to warn her, it was going to be too late. She was there, bending to put the drinks in front of John. He caught the front of her corset with all the red laces and jerked. She cried out, pulling back instinctively, and the laces gave way. A roar of approval went up as she stumbled back into the college boys with their outstretched, greedy hands. Several grabbed for her naked breasts, wanting to play to the camera. The tray went to the floor, drinks spilling everywhere.

  Giovanni waded in, decking John as he passed, ripping Sasha out of their hands, already pulling his coat off to wrap her in. Emilio and Enzo went for the cameraman, removing it from his hands, while Salvatore, Geno, Vittorio and Taviano laid waste to those at the table. It didn't take much, about four seconds, and it was over.

  The entire time, the bodyguards for the New Y
ork riders stood shoulder to shoulder, preventing anyone from below them seeing Sasha or what was happening at Darby's table.

  "Get them out of here," Giovanni said as the club's security swarmed. He didn't bother to listen to Jerry Higgens's threats as the man was escorted out without his camera. It would be returned to him without a single documentation of the night's activities. The paparazzi might have photographs of Darby's party in the club, but not of this incident; it had been contained too fast.

  He kept his arm around Sasha, keeping her under the protection of his shoulder. "No one saw that," he assured.

  "You did," she pointed out.

  "One second of it," he admitted. "I'm taking you out of here. Keep your head down and I'll shield you with my hand from any other cameras. Emilio and Enzo will clear us a path to the back office. My brothers and cousins will make certain no one gets near us. Got that?"

  Her blue eyes looked a little shocked. Her body was trembling again, and he had the strange desire to pick her up in his arms and carry her from all danger. The music was going strong and most people hadn't even been aware that there was drama. Darby's nasty assault for the cameras hadn't worked out this time. It was business as usual in the nightclub and one more place John Darby would never be welcome again.

  "He's a horrible little toad," Sasha burst out.

  He glanced down at her. He was a big man, wide shoulders and a strong chest. She was petite, but he could see she was angry as hell. He liked that she was angry instead of wanting to burst into tears.

  "It's called sexual assault, Sasha, and you should press charges."

  She didn't respond, and he wanted to tip her face up to see her expression so he could tell what she was thinking.

  "You're not crying."

  "Not yet. I will. Tonight, when I'm in my apartment and no one can see, especially that nasty little weasel. I'd like to meet him in my hometown. I wanted to punch him right in the face. Hard."

  "You work those tables, they don't have the right to touch you. I didn't have the right to touch you. Had you been trained properly, you would have signaled security. But they should have seen you were in trouble. I gave them every chance, and they didn't help you out. There's going to be hell to pay for that. Next time, Sasha, walk away. The hell with giving them drinks if they're acting like assholes."

  He kept her walking, aware of a few cameras. The cameramen knew him. He was generally easy to get photographs of. He shook his head at them indicating they should back off, and all but one did. He noted that man. Chesney Reynolds. They'd never gotten along, but in the club, he'd always cooperated. Why wouldn't he back off now? Unless?

  "Emilio, find Reynolds and talk to him. Money works. A lot of it. If he has footage because Darby paid him, get him to turn it over. Pay him whatever Darby did, the cost of that for a magazine and a bonus."

  Emilio nodded. Sasha looked up at him. "Why would you do that? It could be thousands of dollars."

  "You're under my family's protection. You work for us, and that should never have happened. We agreed to take the chance with John Darby because our mothers go way back and they asked us, but we were all worried he might try something. It never occurred to us he might assault one of our servers."

  He pulled open the door and found himself alone in an office with her. His brothers and cousins had gone with the bodyguards to make certain there was no film of Sasha anywhere.

  Sasha moved away from him immediately, wrapping her arms around her middle. His jacket was huge on her, reaching down to her knees. It made her look smaller, more delicate than ever.

  "I don't think I'm cut out for this environment," she said. "I don't understand men like that."Or you. It was unspoken, but it was there between them. "I made a lot of money tonight, but I don't think it was worth it. I need it, or I would quit. Which," she said, "I'm not about to do. I still wish I'd punched that asshole."

  He sure as hell didn't want her working there, but if she left, she might very well think she had to leave his territory. That wasn't going to happen, so he was glad she needed the money enough to stay.

  "I don't understand men like Darby, either. I'm sorry about what you overheard at my table. I can see why you would think the worst of me and lump me in with him." It was frustrating. He couldn't tell her he had no choice but to go to nightclubs in New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles and his hometown, Chicago, and play the part of a playboy--that it was his job. They used the women who would use them as tools, just as they did the paparazzi.

  "You're done for the night," Giovanni said. "Go change, and I'll take you out for something to eat and we can sort this out."

  "You don't have to do that."

  "This happened to you in my establishment. You're shaken up, which is understandable when someone put their hands on you yet again." He scrubbed his hand down his face, wishing he could take back the rules of that stupid, insane game he'd made up. He wasn't about to let her go; he'd have to switch tactics.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Sasha stared up at Giovanni Ferraro for a long time. He was the most gorgeous, dangerous man she'd ever laid eyes on, and he scared her to death when she'd never been afraid of anything human. She came from the country--a very small town, mostly open country, in Wyoming. Men like Giovanni Ferraro didn't exist there. She wasn't a shy, retiring sort of girl. She'd hunted with her father and brother from the time she was about five, although she'd been taught to shoot even younger than that.

  Her father believed in teaching his children how to handle and respect firearms. They shot ground squirrels that made holes for the cattle to step in and break legs. The squirrels also attracted snakes that injected venom in the cattle, sometimes killing them. She learned to hunt any predator that might kill and eat their cattle. She had done those things from a very early age.

  She had been surrounded by men as she grew up. They were hardworking, good men, all of whom respected women--or at least seemed to. Men who assaulted women to play to cameras or played games for money, she just didn't get. Giovanni certainly was terrifying in that he was very intimidating, and for the first time in her life she wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

  "Do you have a change of clothes here?" Giovanni asked, his voice gentle.

  She had almost forgotten her corset was ripped. Both hands flew up to cover her breasts. His jacket was huge on her and she had to hold the lapels closed with one hand. "Yes." Thankfully she'd arrived in her jeans and T-shirt and changed there. She had done that since she'd gotten the job, still too uncomfortable to come to work in the uniform.

  "Go change." Again, his voice was very gentle, yet there was a soft note of command. "I'm waiting here for you, so don't think about running off."

  Sasha nodded and hurried down the hall to the women's employee restroom where she'd left her clothes. It was a relief to get out of his company. There were rumors about the Ferraros. She saw them come and go from her apartment over Masci's deli. She loved her new home. She especially loved the location. On the ranch, she'd dreamt of living in the city, as teens often did, but she thought she'd never leave Wyoming. She had been certain she would marry a rancher and live close to her parents for the rest of her life.

  "Are you all right?" Mary Braiton asked. She was another server and had hired on around the same time Sasha had. She was renewing her lipstick as Sasha hastily took off the torn corset and pulled on her T-shirt.

  "Yes." She wasn't certain that was the truth. "What is wrong with these people?"

  "I have no idea. They're a different breed, that's for sure. I totally envied you when Mr. West said you could work that VIP tier. All those hot millionaires sitting up there, just waiting to find a girl like me. All that money to be had. Maybe it would have been worth it to have John Darby and his crew take notice."

  "For money?" Sasha asked, looking at the other woman through the mirror as she tugged on jeans. "You think it would be worth being assaulted, having your breasts exposed to cameras and letting them touch you, for money?"

>   "Just think about how much you could have if you were his girlfriend, let alone his wife. And Giovanni Ferraro coming to your rescue? That's the mother lode right there, Sasha. Sleep with him. Get pregnant. Do whatever you have to do to snag him. If you miss, you can always sell your story."

  Sasha slowly straightened. "For money?" She knew she sounded like a parrot, but she couldn't stop.

  "Of course, for money. Why else are you working here? Why do you think most of these women come here? They want a chance at the big payoff, one of the Ferraros noticing them. Don't you get it, sweetie? Millionaires come here. Celebrities. This is like a huge lottery and you're throwing your ticket in when you come here. It's the best place for people like you and me to meet them. If having John Darby rip my top and feel me up in front of a camera gets me noticed, especially by Giovanni Ferraro or one of his brothers or cousins, believe me, I'd pay him to do it."

  Sasha tugged on her shoes. "If one of them asked you to dance, would you try to get him to touch you? Under your clothes?"

  "Hell yes," Mary said. "Honey, you've got to get in the game somehow."

  "So, giving him a blow job would be acceptable?"

  "Anytime, anywhere," Mary said. "That's one step closer to the goal. You want the sex, and hopefully he'll forget to use a condom, or you can at least pretend the condom broke."

  "That's horrible, Mary."

  Mary shrugged. "It's just as easy to fuck a millionaire as some poor guy, right?"

  Sasha shook her head because she couldn't think of anything to say. Maybe there was a reason Giovanni and his brothers played their stupid game. If they knew women came to the club to hunt them, they had every reason to feel jaded. Now, she was kind of embarrassed to join Giovanni. If women worked in the club in order to meet the Ferraros, he probably thought she'd gotten work there for the same reason.