Ricco paced across the floor with the restless energy that always marked him from his brothers. He could be utterly still when needed, but most of the time he was in motion. He trained hard and he worked and played harder, but that energy inside him never quite left him alone. He was aware of Francesca casting him little anxious glances. His beautiful sister-in-law, the true mother of the lot of them now. She’d taken them all on when she took on Stefano.
She’d made the monstrous penthouse at the top of the Ferraro Hotel a home. How she’d transformed it, he had no idea, but it felt welcoming where before it had been cold. She was everything, in Ricco’s opinion, his brother needed. Soft when she needed to be, and tough as nails when Stefano got out of hand–which was often.
He sent his brother a quick look. Stefano, as always, was still. He simply waited for the explanation of why Ricco had called an emergency meeting. He sat on the leather couch, a drink in his hand, regarding Ricco thoughtfully. It was impossible to think one could put anything over on Stefano, nor did Ricco want to try. This was too important. On the other hand, Stefano hadn’t been blowing smoke when he’d informed Ricco he would do anything to save him.
“What’s up, bro?” Giovanni asked, throwing himself into one of the wide, very comfortable armchairs. He was the last to arrive. “I had to cancel a date tonight. This had better be good.” He grinned at Ricco, but his eyes were worried.
Ricco looked around the room at his family. They were all worried. The only one who didn’t really show it was Stefano, and he was the most worried of all of them. He hadn’t taken his eyes from his brother, not from the moment Ricco had entered the penthouse.
He took a breath and turned to face them. Emmanuelle and Francesca would be his allies no matter what. Possibly Taviano. Stefano would be a fight. The others, he wasn’t certain. This was the most important battle of his life and he had to win. If he lost . . . he was lost. That was what he had to convince Stefano of. If Stefano sided with him, they all would, and they’d help him. God knew, after all the wild things he’d done privately and publicly, he would need the help.
He stalked across the room to the bar and poured himself a Scotch on the rocks. Tossing it back without tasting it, he turned and faced his family. “I found her.” He announced it quietly. He didn’t raise his voice because he never had need to, but there was a part of him that was filled with exhilaration, so much so he could barely contain it.
Stefano put his drink down and leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Ricco’s face. Never blinking. Emmanuelle and Francesca exchanged a long look and then both broke out into smiles. Giovanni, Vittorio and Taviano all stared at him without comprehension.
“Found who, bro?” Giovanni asked.
“Her. The one. She just walked in at the last minute. Emilio and I were giving up. I wanted to throw all the applications into the fire and then she walked in. She’s a shadow rider. Her shadow reached out and connected with the shadows in the room and then hit mine. It was a little like being drunk only way, way better.” He wasn’t about to tell them the connection had been so strong that she’d given him a permanent hard-on, but he was certain Stefano knew all about that. He’d found Francesca.
“Just because she’s capable of being a rider doesn’t mean she’s your woman,” Vittorio cautioned. “There’s more to it than that.”
Ricco nodded and pressed his hand to his chest. “She walked in and asked if she was too late, and I felt that note press into my chest and unlock something chained up in me. I don’t even know how to describe it, but from the moment I saw her, and heard her, I knew. I feel different. For a long time now I haven’t felt anything for a woman, not even desire.”
There was embarrassment and shame in confessing that to his brothers. They thought he was the stud of the century. Vittorio gave a small snort of derision and Giovanni coughed, nearly spraying his drink everywhere.
“No, it’s the truth. Nothing and no one excited me anymore. All the games, they didn’t work.” He didn’t dare look at Stefano. He was too silent. Too observant.
“How about the Lacey twins?” Taviano asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Then she walked in and I haven’t been able to get a moment’s peace. It’s not going to be easy living with her in my house and trying to seduce her slowly.”
Vittorio laughed. “That shouldn’t be a problem for you, Ricco. I’ll take bets you get it done in less than a week.”
They all laughed. Happy for him. All but Stefano. He kept watching him. Waiting. Ricco had to convince him that this was the real thing and that he needed it more than he needed safety. More than anything else. He wouldn’t survive without it–without her.
He put the glass down on the sideboard and looked directly at his older brother. “You were right, Stefano. I might not have caused that accident, but once the casing cracked I didn’t do a thing to try to prevent myself from going into that wall. I’m tired. So damn tired. I didn’t feel there was anything or any way out for me. The work kept me going, but I don’t sleep and that was beginning to affect the job.”
Vittorio and Giovanni glanced at each other, but Stefano kept watching him, unblinking, knowing there was more. He always knew.
“I need this woman. It isn’t just about wanting her, and I know that’s wrong. I know it should be about want, not need, but I’m not going to make it without her.” Stefano had to know it was that bad. Admitting it didn’t make him feel very good about himself, but then he hadn’t for a long, long time.
“You worried she isn’t going to like your relationship with the Lacey twins?” Giovanni asked. He wasn’t being sarcastic: it was a legitimate question and they both knew it.
“No, she’s not going to like that or any of the other stupid things I’ve done, but hopefully we can get past that with the help of all of you. Francesca and Emmanuelle, I’m really counting on the two of you to make friends with her.”
“Of course,” Emmanuelle said.
Francesca echoed her, nodding, but now both women looked worried. He couldn’t blame them. He was never nervous. Never. He was still looking at Stefano, and by now, all of them were aware of it and they were looking at the head of the family as well. Stefano hadn’t said a word. Just waited. Because he knew. He always knew.
“What’s wrong?” Francesca voiced what they were all wondering.
“There’s a host of small problems, ones that are of my own making, and it’s up to me to convince her I’m worth taking a shot with, even though I’ve got the worst reputation in the world.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “The biggest problem is that she’s a shadow rider and I’m fairly certain she’s here to kill me.”
Emmanuelle gasped. Francesca reached for Stefano’s hand. He remained immobile, still as a statue, his gaze never leaving Ricco’s. He held up his hand for silence when the others began to all talk at once.
“You’re positive she’s an actual rider?” he asked, his voice strictly neutral.
“There’s no way to be positive,” Ricco said. “She was too good at what she did. Acting nervous. I knew she was totally aware of me, that the connection between us hit her just as hard. I know when a woman wants me, and the physical attraction was definitely mutual. What woman wouldn’t flirt just a little? She didn’t. She has tremendous courage. She actually allowed me to tie her wrists. I could tell it was terrifying to her, but she went through with it. The pins in her hair were definitely not women’s normal hairpins. Still, there’s no way to be certain. The only thing I can tell you is that I just knew.”
“We know every family. If she’s a rider, we’ll know of her,” Stefano said. “I can reach out . . .”
He shook his head. “Wait. I need you to wait.”
“Why wouldn’t she just kill you without ever showing herself?” Vittorio asked.
He shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Are you guilty of something we don’t know about?” Stefano asked. “Something that would put you in the path of a rider?”
A shadow rider carried out justice when the law couldn’t. Always, always, they had to be certain, which meant a thorough investigation of the facts.
“She would have to be one of the Archambault family. There is a female rider. They’re the only riders allowed to go after another shadow rider family,” Stefano said.
“She’s not French.” Ricco took a breath. “I have to tell you. It’s time, but Stefano, we have to be very careful, otherwise we’re going to end up in a war and everyone will lose.”
He didn’t want to tell them the truth of what happened in Japan, yet he did. It would be such a relief to get the entire mess off his chest. To know that his family would look over their shoulders instead of him guarding them night and day would be a relief. Telling the truth would be liberating in a lot of ways.
“Start talking, Ricco.” That was Stefano, all business.
“The riders are different in Japan. When we train other riders, we welcome them as family and treat them as we treat one another. There, riders from other countries are looked down on–especially the ones from the United States. We’re considered lazy and undisciplined.”
He didn’t know if he was making excuses or just needing to find a place to begin. The entire sordid affair had been bottled up for far too long. Wrapped in guilt and fear for his family, he had stayed silent until he almost didn’t know how to tell them what had occurred.
“No matter what we did or how hard we worked, those of us who weren’t from the families there were never acknowledged, not even during the tournaments. It pissed me off. I have a temper and I got into a lot of fights proving myself, beating the crap out of some of the boys from the host families. Of course, that just proved to them that I was undisciplined and not fit to be a rider.”
It was still painful, those memories. He’d trained harder than anyone else, and it hadn’t mattered. “If I defeated the sons of the host families, if I beat their times riding the shadows, or in any way bested them, it was never acknowledged, but the boys were punished and the hatred and bitterness grew for all the other riders training, in particular me and one other rider–a female. You can imagine what it was like to be a female rider there where the women were supposed to wait on their men and be subservient to them. She was never considered as good, and the boys were mean to her.”
“What country was she from?” Vittorio asked.
Just his voice was soothing. Vittorio, the peacemaker. Vittorio, the brother who always seemed to bring calm and sense in the middle of any storm.
“That’s the thing, she was from Japan. Right there. She was the daughter of a council member. I didn’t stay with her family, none of the foreign riders did. Her mother had died and her father was a former rider, he didn’t go out on any jobs anymore. Her grandmother was very mean and ugly with her and the other kids. She put our parents to shame.”
“Name,” Stefano said abruptly.
Of course he would get down to the facts immediately. Nothing was going to get by him. Nothing ever did.
“Her name was Akiko Tanaka.”
Stefano nodded. “She came from a fierce line, but they’re all gone now. She was killed in a car accident along with the last of that lineage, her father and grandmother. I think three other riders, sons of some of the best families there, died as well. One survived, but was in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It was a horrible tragedy.”
Ricco shook his head. “None of them died in a car accident. I killed the three riders and put the remaining one in the wheelchair.” He dropped the bomb right into the middle of the room. No one moved. No one spoke. They all just stared at him, shocked. There was absolute truth in his voice, and he knew they all heard it.
He didn’t take his eyes from Stefano. He loved his brother. He was mother, father and big brother all rolled into one. He was the family’s measure of what it was to be a shadow rider, a Ferraro, someone to be respected. Killing other riders, especially young, untrained riders when they needed them so desperately, was the worst sin a rider could commit, so much so that it was forbidden and would bring a death sentence down on the perpetrator. Only an Archambault rider could bring justice to another shadow rider.
“Ricco,” Emmanuelle whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of horror and compassion.
He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on Stefano, waiting for judgment, waiting for condemnation. He should have known better.
“You wouldn’t have done so without a good reason, Ricco,” he said. “What happened to Akiko and her family?”
Ricco shook his head. There was no way to put himself in a good light. He couldn’t spin it or leave out details. “There was a tournament that afternoon and Akiko defeated Nao Yamamoto. He was seventeen and considered the fastest of the shadow riders coming up in Japan. His family was extremely proud of him. According to everyone, he brought them great honor. But he was a terrible human being. He bullied everyone, including the boys who followed him. He had his own little gang. His buddies were seventeen and sixteen. If anyone ever slighted any of them, or in any way made them look bad, they would ride the shadows, go visit them and beat the holy hell out of them. They bragged to the rest of us that they visited girls they liked and did whatever they wanted.”
“Oh my God,” Emmanuelle said. “I hope you reported them.”
“Several of us did the day before the attack took place, but the elders said it was merely boys bragging. That it wasn’t the truth. We knew differently because we heard the truth when they were bragging. Nao and his pack beat the shit out of two of the other riders who reported them, and I was waiting for them when they came for me. All in all, I didn’t do too bad against the four of them, and if I’m being strictly honest, Nao was hurting when he went into that tournament.”
“Wait a minute,” Stefano said. “I want you to be very clear on this. You reported what you’d overheard about these boys using their abilities to harm girls and beat up other riders and the council dismissed it as untrue?”
Ricco nodded. “Women aren’t treated nearly the same there as they are here. We know we need them for the riders to survive, but there, they are less than a man. Outsiders are treated the same. The council was comprised of the fathers of these boys. Had it come out that such a thing was going on, their entire families would have been dishonored. They’re very traditional and old-school.”
“Honor among riders is traditional,” Taviano said, “or at least I always thought it was.”
“If all the families were dishonored, and their sons were banned from riding, stripped of their abilities, the families would be left with nothing. I can’t explain just how dire the consequences for them would be there. No one would acknowledge them or have anything to do with them. Cousins, anyone outside the riders would demand their last name be changed–” He broke off as it occurred to him that Mariko’s last name couldn’t have been the name she was born with.
Giovanni had to be thinking along the same lines as he was. “Did any of these boys have siblings? A sister? Could your woman be related to one of them?”
Ricco tried to remember. As far as he knew, none of them had sisters. Or brothers for that matter. He shook his head. “That’s why the way they treated Akiko really got to me. It didn’t make sense when they needed female riders and there was one right there, not related, and they treated her like dirt. I didn’t understand them at all, other than the fact that Nao was on a power trip. He kept bragging that even the Yakuza would fear him.”
“So this Nao went into the tournament already injured from the previous night when he and his little gang jumped you.” Stefano redirected him, wanting to keep him on track.
He nodded. “Akiko defeated him by such a margin there was no way the judges could pretend it was a tie or that she had in any way fouled. The trophy was given to her, and Nao was shamed. His father was furious with him and humiliated him right there in front of all of us. Even his own friends laughed at him. I knew he would try to retaliate.”
He ducked his head for a long moment. He had to confess to Stefano. There was no way around it. He looked directly at his brother. “I had been so disgusted with the way they treated me that I’d stopped working so hard. I knew no matter what I did, it wouldn’t be recognized. It was only later I realized recognition didn’t matter. Training did. But I had become what they said. I didn’t have discipline.”
He knew that was shocking to his brothers and sister. He trained night and day. No one could ever turn him around in the shadows. He could find any place–anytime, anywhere. He was fast and he was vicious when he needed to be. He shook his head and held up his hand when his brothers would have protested.
“I was a hothead, worse than I am now. I thought I was proving a point, but instead, I got a lot of people killed.”
“How?” Stefano asked, his voice nonjudgmental. Waiting for the evidence of his brother’s crime.
“I went to a class on hojojutsu-tying prisoners that evening. Two riders overheard Nao and his friends conspiring to go after Akiko, and they told me before I went to class, asking my advice on what to do. I advised them to go to the council again. I thought it was taken care of–until I got home and found the boys gone. I knew they were going after her. I’d never been to Akiko’s home. None of us had. I didn’t have the exact address. I had to find it. I thought I’d get there and warn her father, but I got turned around. I ended up on the wrong side of town and had to backtrack. If I’d been studying like I should have, I would have gotten there first and I could have stopped them. Akiko would still be alive.”
There was silence, and he stalked over to the bar and poured himself another drink. He needed it, and he couldn’t quite make himself look at his brother. He didn’t want to see the disappointment he knew would be in his eyes. They’d been raised by Stefano to always give their best. Stefano would never have shirked learning. Not for one moment. It didn’t matter how much Ricco trained, all the extra hours, the skills he had now, none of it made up for his getting lost in Tokyo that day.
The riders were sent to Tokyo because it was Japan’s largest city, or more properly, prefecture. It was very confusing to the young riders, easy enough to get turned around, but they were expected to learn directions and be able to move freely from one end to the other quickly.
“That’s bullshit, Ricco,” Taviano burst out. “Complete and utter bullshit. No one could possibly blame you for that girl’s death. What the hell? You were fourteen.”
Ricco downed the Scotch, feeling it burn all the way down his throat and into his belly before he turned and faced the others, trying not to see the images burned so deeply into his mind he’d never been able to get them out. “It wasn’t just Akiko. They killed her father and grandmother as well as two servants. Akiko fought them, and the noise brought her father and grandmother running along with two of the people who had worked for their family for years. The four boys killed them. I got there late and found the bodies of her grandmother and servants. There was blood everywhere.”
“Ricco,” Francesca murmured, “how awful.”
“I still can’t close my eyes without seeing that sight. When I entered the house I almost stepped on her grandmother’s body. They’d nearly sliced her into pieces just outside the door of the small room where she held court. One of the female servants was just to the right of her. She’d been slashed with a sword down her back and was still dying. The other was nearly decapitated. The attacks had come from behind. Two of the boys had lain in wait for the father and servants while Nao and the other one dealt with Akiko and her grandmother. When I got there, the first two were still hacking at the bodies of the servants. I took the swords away, and I killed them. It wasn’t easy–I have the scars on my chest and down my thigh.”
He touched the three slashes he kept covered by his clothing at all times, remembering the feel of the blade cutting through his flesh.
“Oh my God, Ricco,” Emmanuelle whispered. “You were only fourteen, younger than they were. You took on two riders with swords and managed to stay alive?”
“I had no choice,” he said. “Not if I was going to try to save Akiko.”
“You’re telling me four riders from four of the families in Japan used their abilities to murder innocents?” Stefano asked. His voice was low, but it was a whip. “Which families? Tell me now. I need to hear you confirm that these boys were the sons of the riders on the council.”
He had known Stefano would be furious. Breaking the code of a shadow rider was the worst thing one could do. The code of honor was put in place to protect every rider, their families and every innocent human being they came across.
“Three families,” Ricco corrected. “You know Nao Yamamoto. His father, Isamu Yamamoto, was head of the council overseeing all riders in Japan at that time. The other two members had sons.”
“Ricco.” It was a warning. “Stop stalling.” Stefano pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes, putting pressure there.
He wasn’t stalling so much as trying not to go back to that moment when he stood before the council members, knowing he’d killed their sons and they could do anything to him and no one would know.
“Eiji and Hachiro Saito followed Nao anywhere he went. They were bullies, believing, because their father, Dai Saito, sat on the council in Japan, no one could touch them. They both had swords that night. They were the ones who killed the two servants.”
Stefano swept a hand over his face as if trying to sweep away the things his brother told him. “This should have been taken to the International Council. Those men lied about the deaths. Who was the last boy?” Of course he knew. His mother had attended the funerals of the boys, paying their respects to the riders who had lost their children. Mikio Ito was the other council member.
“Kenta Ito, Mikio Ito’s son,” Ricco confirmed.
“This is a disgrace. A fucking disgrace,” Stefano bit out. “The top three families of riders. Council members. Lying to other riders, pulling that shit off because as council members they had the ability to tell a story with emotion that could muddy hearing. Their sons were murderers. Damn it, Ricco, we should have been told.”
Ricco’s gaze swept the room. His brothers were stunned. Shock showed on Emmanuelle’s face. Such a thing was unheard of. Lying to the world of riders. It was a small, closed group, and they counted on honesty. On truth. On honor above all else.
Ricco shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t tell you.”
Stefano opened his mouth and then snapped it closed. Giovanni got up and took the cut crystal glasses and poured more Scotch, handing them back before seating himself again. He took his time, making certain everyone had a chance to recover from the sheer shock.
“Tell us all of it,” Vittorio encouraged. “This is turning my stomach, but we have to know.”
“It was Kenta Ito who killed Akiko’s father. He painted his face with her father’s blood and was dancing around Akiko and Nao. They wanted her to see that her family was dead. Nao had raped Akiko and he cut her to pieces. She was still alive, and Nao told her he was going to kill her little brother and sister. He told her he would violate her sister in front of her before he killed her. Her sister was three years old. Her brother was fifteen months.”
Francesca gasped and put a hand to her throat. Stefano immediately drew her close, beneath the protection of his shoulder.
“Power corrupts.” Taviano repeated what Stefano had drilled into them from the time they were toddlers. “Clearly those boys believed themselves above everyone else rather than servants of the people.”
“I came into the room and overheard what he was saying. Kenta turned to face me. He had a sword, just like the others, and he was big and very strong.” He had known fear back then, facing that blade and the anger and hatred of Kenta and Nao. “They believed me to be less than what they were. Akiko was less. Her family. Her father could no longer ride the shadows and was considered an outcast and dishonored. I had to fight them no matter how afraid I was of them. Akiko was still alive and I could see the desperation on her face. She didn’t have anyone else to save her siblings.”
Ricco couldn’t stand any longer. The restles
s energy was there inside him, demanding he move, but his body, still recovering, couldn’t oblige him. He took the chair facing Stefano. This was a confession, pure and simple, and it was Stefano who would judge him. Giovanni, Vittorio and Taviano would stand solidly with him. Emmanuelle had the softest heart and would never think him guilty of anything. She would most likely view him as a hero.
He knew he held responsibility. He hadn’t studied the way he should have and he’d gotten turned around in the shadows of Tokyo. He hadn’t gone with the boys that night to try to convince the elders that the others were up to no good because he didn’t believe they would listen. He knew the council members would make his life even more miserable than it already was. Then there was the matter of the actual killings. The boys, no matter what they had done, were riders. There was a code–an unbreakable code.
“Kenta and I fought and while we did, Nao went to the closet and yanked open the door. I could see the little girl crouched on the floor holding her little brother, her hand over his mouth. He dragged the boy out and threw him on the floor, stomping on him over and over. Bones broke. I heard them. The sound was sickening. The little girl, only three years old, rushed him. She leapt into the air and kicked Nao with both feet right in the balls, driving him away from her brother. When she landed, she hit Akiko’s blood and slipped, falling almost at Nao’s feet. Kenta had sliced me a couple of times. I had to get possession of the sword and take him out. I stepped close and he swung just like I knew he would. I pulled my head back, but the tip sliced my face open.”
Ricco touched the wicked scar. He hadn’t even felt the pain of that cut. He’d been desperate. Kenta was good with the sword. “I kept moving into him. Akiko must have been doing homework when they attacked and her desk had turned over. I found a pen on the floor and I shoved it into his eye, hard. He dropped the sword. I picked it up and slammed it down over his head, splitting his skull in two.” The aftermath had been horrific, with blood and brains everywhere.
He hadn’t had time to think about those first lives he’d taken when he’d killed the boys he’d trained with. It was only later, when he tried to sleep, that he remembered their eyes, wide open, the horror in them, the light fading away. His stomach lurched. He’d brought many men to justice since that time, but nothing had affected him the way the deaths of those boys had.
“I didn’t have much time. Nao had caught the little girl by the hair, pulling her through the blood to his lap. He was going to cut her throat. I lifted the sword again and jammed the blade into his back, down low, with every bit of strength I had left, which wasn’t much. The sword was sharp and it went in.”
He took a deep breath and pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples. “I’ve never seen anything so horrific before or since. Nao kept screaming and screaming. The baby was absolutely silent. We both collapsed right there on the floor. I crawled to Akiko. There was blood bubbling around her mouth and she couldn’t talk. I didn’t move until she died. The little girl had crawled to her brother and she was holding him like a rag doll and rocking him back and forth.”
He couldn’t look at his siblings. All he could see was the blood soaking into the floor of the Tanaka home. So many dead around him. He hadn’t saved Akiko. He had felt numb. He hadn’t known he was shaking until the sword slipped from his nerveless fingers. It hit the floor and was instantly coated from blade to hilt in red.
“I don’t know how long I sat there before I realized the boy was still alive and needed medical attention, as did Nao. I called Isamu Yamamoto and told him what happened and we needed help fast. They came, and I don’t remember too much after that. I was taken to a room back in the host home with orders not to speak to anyone. I didn’t want to. I wanted to come home, but they refused to allow me to call you, Stefano.”
“I’ll just bet they didn’t let you call me or Eloisa.” Stefano’s voice was a lash of pure anger. A promise of retaliation.
Ricco winced. “There was an investigation and I was questioned repeatedly by the council members.”
“The council members? Not investigators?” Stefano clarified.
“Council members,” he reiterated. “I honestly expected them to kill me. It was clear they weren’t going to allow outsiders to know what happened. The dishonor would be too much for the three families. They called me in and told me if I dared to tell my family or any other council the truth of what happened, the three families would unite to wipe out every member of my family in retaliation because if I brought them that kind of dishonor, they wouldn’t have anything to live for. They said that they would tell the rider world that I had killed their sons. They also said they would make it known that I had murdered those boys in cold blood when they caught me raping Akiko. That I had been the one to kill her family.”
“Those fucking liars. Any of us would have heard the lies they told. If we’d brought them up before the international governing body they couldn’t have made those charges stick.” Stefano’s eyes blazed with anger. “They would have been stripped of their abilities. Only a member of the family of the international governing family can do that, but Yamamoto knew that would have happened immediately if this came to light. He fed crap to a fourteen-year-old boy and then forced him to stay there for appearances.”
Ricco nodded. “They wanted me to know just how powerful they were. It was a difficult time, but I was determined that nothing would happen to any of you. When I came back, I trained even harder than I had in Japan, every day, to make certain I would never make another mistake. I guarded you at night as best I could just in case they decided to come after all of you.”
“You should have told me, Ricco,” Stefano said. “I would have put a stop to this nightmare for you.”
Nothing could stop the nightmare. He’d have those deaths on his hands until the day he died. The images were branded into his brain. “We don’t want to start a war with the families in Japan,” he cautioned. “My host family were good people. They, at least, treated me right. From there I went to Mikio Ito’s home for six months. The rest of my time was spent with the Yamamotos.”
Stefano went into another round of inventive curses.
Ricco kept talking. He wanted it all out and over with. “Nao was in a wheelchair and very, very bitter. His mother and father were bitter. It was an extremely difficult situation, with constant beatings and threats, but I had resolved to learn as much as I could and all those beatings were done in the training halls by Isamu Yamamoto, and while he bested me time and again, it only served to make me train harder and grow stronger.”
Stefano was the one to begin pacing across the floor. “It doesn’t make sense that they would send someone after you at this late date. The Saitos retired years ago. I believe Dai and his wife Osamu live in their home in Tokyo. He gave up riding the shadows after his sons were killed. Mikio Ito stopped riding after his son was killed as well. His wife is still alive, and I believe they retired to a small cottage in the country. She never was a trained rider. It was an arranged marriage. And Isamu Yamamoto lost his wife to suicide. She walked out in front of a train. They said he began to drink heavily. A few months ago, he committed suicide by disembowelment.”
“I heard about that,” Ricco said, slightly ashamed that he’d wished they were all dead and the threat to his family was over.
“Nao Yamamoto has run their company here in the States for the last ten years or more,” Vittorio volunteered. “They’ve been losing money. According to their publicist they’ve been under attack by an industrial spy. Nao spent money like water, and I think he ran the company here into the ground.”
“The shadow riding lines of these families are gone,” Stefano continued. “It was rumored Saito and his wife had two other children, but neither was suited for shadow riding so they were never talked about publicly.”
Ricco frowned. He was already putting pieces of the puzzle together, although it still didn’t make sense. “She said she was claustrophobic, that when she was a child she’d been locked in a closet. Mariko. She could have been that little girl.”
“Nothing was ever said about any of the Tanaka line remaining,” Stefano objected.
“I study the history of all the rider families,” Vittorio said. “There was a rumor that there were other children, babies, but they died in the accident as well.”
Stefano shook his head. “The Tanakas only had Akiko. They had a very famous line and it was regarded the world over that no one was left.”
“That’s not true,” Ricco said. “There was a little sister and brother. I was there. They came to the tournaments to cheer Akiko on. They came with their father. And the girl was in training. You should have seen her take down Nao with that double kick. I’m telling you, she was a Tanaka. So was the baby boy.”
“It wouldn’t make sense that this child would want to assassinate you when you saved her and her brother,” Taviano said.
“What did she say her last name was?” Vittorio asked.
“Majo, and the kanji characters mean ‘female devil.’ The name was given to her. She said, and I heard truth in her voice, that her mother was an American. She’d been told that her mother was a whore on the streets. Later she abandoned her children and disappeared. Mariko believes that to be true.”
“Tanaka married an American woman. She left him, and their shadows were torn apart. She didn’t remember her children or marriage or anything about riding shadows, and he was lost to all of us as a rider,” Stefano said. “But there was no mention of any child other than Akiko that I can remember; however, if Vittorio heard about more, then it is probably so. The lineage was remarkable. Admired and respected despite what the family thought about his marriage. Surely a son and daughter would have been welcomed by every rider family.”
Ricco shook his head. “Akiko was looked down on by every family, all riders and her own grandmother because she was mixed race. The grandmother, in particular, treated her horribly, and all the families followed suit. Although Akiko was mixed race, she looked more like her father. If Mariko is a Tanaka, she obviously looks more like her American mother. Still, when I asked about what happened to the two remaining children, Yamamoto told me a family took them in.”
“It still wouldn’t make sense for the girl to come after you. It’s pretty hard to forget the boy who saved your life,” Giovanni objected.
“She was three, Gee,” Francesca pointed out. “What do shadow riders do?” she asked softly. “They carry out justice. It’s ingrained in them. It can’t be personal, right? You call in other riders to cover anything personal. If Mariko is a rider, then someone called her in. Someone investigated, and someone called her in. The fact that she didn’t carry out her assignment in the prescribed way means she isn’t convinced that you’re guilty and she’s conducting her own investigation. What other reason is there for her waiting to try to kill you? She didn’t have to come out into the open. She could have slid into the shadows like you all do and it would be over. You wouldn’t have seen it coming.”
Except Ricco was always vigilant. He made certain of that. Made certain there were unseen alarms that would be tripped by anyone moving around his house at night or during the day whether they slid out of a shadow or not. For several years he’d been convinced someone, a shadow rider, had slipped into his home on numerous occasions. He’d invented a screen to hook under the doors of his family to prevent riders from sliding into their bedrooms unseen. The weird feeling that an intruder had visited had ceased when he began using the screens.
“Francesca is right,” Emmanuelle said. “Why take a position unless she needs to know more?”
“Say that’s all true,” Taviano said. “Who sent her? Someone had to have contracted with her people in Japan, Ricco was investigated and she was sent. Whoever sent her must believe he’s guilty of killing the Tanaka family just as Yamamoto threatened. Maybe the findings were turned over to the new council when Yamamoto died?”
“This has to go before the international governing family,” Stefano decided. “Or we’re going to find ourselves in a war.”
“If you go to them, we may find ourselves in a war anyway. The moment the new council in Japan comes under the governing family’s investigations, they’ll feel dishonored. They’ll believe Saito and Ito. Both will lie. They’ll have to. The culture is very different from ours,” Ricco objected. “I know I’m asking a lot, because every one of you is at risk, but I know this woman is mine. I know I was born for her. I need a chance. I’m asking all of you to give me that chance.”
Stefano sighed and looked around the room at his siblings and wife. “Ricco, more than risking us, because I doubt anyone is that stupid to come after our family, you’re asking all of us to allow this woman, a trained assassin, to remain in your home with you.”
Ricco nodded. “I know what I’m asking. I need this chance.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Taviano said. “Ricco’s been through enough and I’ll stand with him.”
Stefano looked at Vittorio. “You?”
“I’ll stand with Ricco, but I want added protection for him.”
“The last thing I need is my brothers or sister standing in the shadows while I’m trying to seduce a woman,” Ricco said, faint humor coming to the surface. That was his family, in the worst of circumstances, siding with him and making him want to laugh.
“I’m in,” Giovanni said. “I could use some pointers, Ricco. You’ve always been good with the women.”
“As if you need any help,” Emmanuelle said and threw a wadded-up napkin at her brother, striking with deadly accuracy. “I don’t like it, but I’ll help. I’m befriending her, Ricco, and if she so much as blinks wrong toward you, I’ll break her neck.”
He was a bit startled by the intensity of his sister’s attitude. She meant it. Even smiling at him, she meant it. He inclined his head.
“If I get a vote, I’ll help, too,” Francesca said. “I can be her friend and tell her why I adore you.”
“Of course you get a vote,” Ricco said. “You’re family.” He looked to Stefano. They all did, waiting for the verdict.
“I’ll contact our cousins in New York and Los Angeles. If a war is starting they need to be aware as well. I’ll contact the international governing family and ask them to keep the investigation quiet, but not for long, Ricco. If someone is after you, we’ll need to know who it is. And we’re starting our own investigation as well. I don’t much care whose toes in Japan I step on.”
“Thank you.” He should have known his family would back him.
“You were fourteen years old, a kid, Ricco. They were adults. Their children fucked up and they would have had honor if they’d faced that with courage. Instead, they tormented you and threatened you. God knows what they did to this girl and what they’ve told her. We’re going to find out what happened to Tanaka’s other two children. There has to be a trail, elders who knew about them. God help them if they turned over those innocent children to the Saitos and left them in their care. Those three families would have kept the details of their sons’ deaths secret. They told everyone they’d died in a car accident with the Tanakas. There’s a trail, and we’ll uncover it.”
Ricco nodded his head. “I’d like to know what happened. I’m fairly certain Mariko is a Tanaka. She has to be that same three-year-old.”
“One more thing. You will be guarded at all times. I don’t want you trying to give us the slip. Obviously, we can’t be with you twenty-four-seven, so you watch your back at all times.”
“Consider it done.”
“You weren’t guilty of anything, Ricco,” Stefano added. “Not one fucking thing. They twisted what happened in your mind. You did the honorable thing, fighting for that family. Finding your way through Tokyo when you’d just arrived a few weeks earlier would have been difficult for any of us, let alone a teen. I’m proud of you. You honored our family with what you did to save those children and then coming home and watching out for all of us. You carried that burden alone for too many years. You should have trusted me, but the decision was made by a boy who feared three powerful families threatening to kill his own. I understand, and I can look you in the eye and say I’m proud of you.”
That meant more to him than anything else could have. He looked around the room at his family, the men and women who stood with him. He wanted Mariko there with them. His woman. He just had to find a way to seduce her without being killed.
