Shadow Reaper (A Shadow Riders Novel Book 2)

Mariko stood in the doorway of the amazing jet they’d used to travel to her country. The aircraft was more of a luxury hotel than a plane, complete with bedrooms. She’d spent more time awake than asleep, but she didn’t regret one moment of her time with Ricco. He was a demanding lover–but then, so was she.

The lights of the city lit up the sky in every color of the rainbow. She loved everything about Tokyo at night. When she was a teenager, so upset with Osamu’s treatment, or hurt that Ryuu had said something mean to her to get into Osamu’s good graces, she’d ridden shadows all over the city. Sneaking out had been easy enough. Sneaking back to bed when Osamu was waiting for her hadn’t been.

“You don’t have to go with us,” Ricco said, coming to stand behind her. His hand went to the nape of her neck. One finger slid over her skin in that caress she knew so well. The one that always seemed to give her confidence.

“I do.” She glanced back at him over her shoulder and met his dark gaze. She wanted him to know she had to face Osamu–to see for herself once and for all. She’d be able to read Osamu even if the woman was adept at lying.

He didn’t argue with her. He didn’t want her to go. He’d made that clear enough. She knew he wanted to protect her from whatever they might find, and she loved him even more for that. Sometimes she didn’t know how to take his protective streak, but she was always grateful for it.

She leaned back against him to show she understood it was difficult for him to have her go with them to confront Osamu Saito. The woman had been so harsh with her and yet she was the only mother Mariko had ever known. If Osamu was behind Ryuu’s kidnapping, Mariko honestly didn’t know what she would do.

“Let’s get it done then. We have to be in and out of here fast,” Stefano decreed. “You follow our lead, Mariko, and if things go to hell, hit the first shadow and ride it back to the plane.”

She nodded because she knew the Ferraro brothers now. How stubborn they were. They’d stand there until hell froze over before they moved if she didn’t agree to Stefano’s orders. There wouldn’t be an argument. They didn’t argue. In any case, although she had complete confidence in herself and her abilities as a rider, she knew this would be an emotional journey and it was going to take its toll on her.

She looked down at the ring on her finger. It wasn’t just any ring. It was a rider’s ring–specially crafted by the famous Ferraro jeweler in New York. She touched the band, rubbed at it, feeling the solid presence surrounding her finger the way Ricco’s ropes surrounded her, the way his arms did.

The ring was a part of her and it would break down just as she did in the shadow tubes. She could carry it with her everywhere she went, which meant having Ricco with her. His strength. His power. His belief in her.

Stefano reached out and clapped Franco Mancini, another cousin and the Ferraro pilot, on the shoulder. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours. If not, you know what to do.”

Franco didn’t smile, and Mariko could see, despite his expressionless mask, that he was worried. She wanted to reassure them that Osamu would be gracious to them. It was only to Mariko–and sometimes Ryuu–that she showed her mean streak. Franco’s gaze shifted, just for a moment, to her and then moved away, out toward the large asphalted area where he had taxied the plane, brought it in nose first, and parked. Was he worried about her? She glanced at Ricco’s face again.

“I’m going to be fine,” she assured him, although she was really reassuring all of them. She’d gone from just having Ryuu–and that was often part-time–to having what seemed an enormous family. Siblings and cousins treated her as if she were already a part of them.

“I wish you’d stay with Franco here where I know you’re safe,” Ricco said. “I’ve got a bad feeling, il mio amore.” He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “I wouldn’t make it very long without you. I’d much rather know you’re safe than take chances.”

“Seriously, Osamu is no threat to us. Her husband was a rider. As far as I know, she stopped riding shadows when she had children, but she always respects a rider.”

“Except for you,” Franco murmured.

Stefano’s head jerked up. “Osamu was trained in riding shadows?”

Mariko frowned and nodded. “She told me once that she was. She was upset because I’d beat everyone’s times in the trials. We had to go from one end of Tokyo to the other. There were checkpoints to ensure we didn’t cheat, as if any shadow rider would. She detested that I was given any recognition and she told me she could have easily beat my times when she was training.”

Stefano’s eyes met Ricco’s over her head. “That information is not common knowledge, Mariko. All trained riders are known within the community. Osamu was never registered as a rider.”

“I asked Dai about it. He said she didn’t like being in the tubes, but that she was trained and, despite feeling sick when she was inside, was very good when she was young.” She looked from Stefano to Ricco. “What difference does it make? She’s married to a shadow rider. She produced children and they were riders. She respects the riders even though she didn’t want to go out on missions or continue into her adult years. There are many riders who try but don’t make it for various reasons.”

“Everything makes a difference, Mariko. The more knowledge we have the better,” Ricco said, his voice gentle. “We investigate everyone we target thoroughly.”

“We aren’t targeting Osamu,” Mariko pointed out. She looked from one brother to the other. “Are we? Isn’t it possible she was just given the note and put it in my room?”

As terrible as her childhood had been, Osamu was still the only mother she had. Grief had lived in that house every single day. Osamu had been a good woman, a rider, a mother of two little boys she adored. A wife. Dai loved her despite how sorrow had weighed her down and changed her. He’d always come back, and more than once, Mariko had seen him holding Osamu as she cried. She didn’t want the Ferraros to think Osamu was all bad. People had layers to them. She had never experienced the compassionate, good side of Osamu, but she’d seen it in her interactions with Ryuu and Dai. She’d heard her laugh with her friends.

“We’re just investigating,” Stefano said. “And we need all the facts.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t think to tell you that she had trained. She was never an official rider nor did she go out on missions. Something about being in the tubes made her violently ill.”

“Mariko,” Stefano said. “There’s a reason we don’t investigate close to home. You’re missing important facts because you don’t want to see the truth.”

“You admitted to me that you believed Osamu slipped the note under your door,” Ricco pointed out gently, giving his brother a quelling look. He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her back against him, holding her close.

She didn’t want to be the cause of an argument between the brothers, but . . . “It’s occurred to me that any shadow rider could have put that note in my room. It would have been easy enough to do.”

“True,” Stefano said. “And just as easy for Osamu. You let us do the talking.”

There was no looking away from those dark, compelling eyes. Even with Ricco surrounding her with the force of his personality, with his strength and protection, his older brother was just plain scary. She nodded, not because she was intimidated, but because, as a rider, she knew he was right.

She was too involved emotionally. Her brother’s life was in jeopardy–if he was still alive. There had been no word from the kidnappers. None. That wasn’t a good sign. She couldn’t let herself think about that. She had to believe he was alive and that somehow the Ferraros or the International Council, in their investigations, would find Ryuu’s trail.

“Get ready,” Ricco cautioned.

Stefano nodded to Franco and his cousin stepped in front of them, a small device in his hands. Lights flickered, went out and then shone brightly across the entire area where the plane had been parked. Shadows raced in every direction, rushing up the steps, drawn by the strange magnetic compositions of their bodies.

Ricco took the lead, stepping into a tube without hesitation, choosing one that connected with so many others. Mariko went in after him, her body feeling as if it were flying apart. It was easy to see why some potential riders didn’t make it. Having one’s body torn apart time after time was hard. One had to stay in top physical shape at all times to endure using the tubes to get from one place to another. The aftermath could often be feeling extremely ill as Osamu had. Even within a family of riders, it wasn’t unusual for some members to be unable to work as riders.

Mariko hesitated coming out of the tube, even knowing she was blocking Stefano from emerging right at Dai and Osamu’s doorstep. Just looking at the house made her feel different. Her newfound confidence wavered at the sight of the home she’d grown up in. She felt like that unwanted girl, daughter of a street whore, despised by Osamu and her friends.

The circle of women was very powerful. They could do good or they could be very ugly in their judgments. Their voices could sway their husbands’ opinions and shape the opinions of their children. Osamu’s voice had been loud and her friends’ had been louder. Their disdain had colored her life, spilling over to the other riders.

She had known the riders training would have been her friends had their host families not told them to stay away from her. Kichiro had admitted that his mother wouldn’t have wanted her as a daughter-in-law.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. Stefano leaned into her, half in, half out of the tube. “You don’t have to do this, la mia sorellina. If you’re doing this out of pride, just know that you’re one of us and we have no problem doing this without you. We protect our own. I would expect you to lend me a hand if I needed it. Family is everything.”

Calling her little sister. Including her as family. She’d never had that before. She took a deep breath just as Ricco stepped close to her, worry in his eyes. He pulled her under his shoulder.

“Tell me what you need, Mariko.”

She was so in love with him. One hand had gone to the nape of her neck, his fingers massaging the tension out of her there. One finger slid down her nape. That one small gesture he always used just before they began Shibari together. He always grounded her. Centered her. Made her feel powerful with that tiny, intimate gesture.

“You just gave it to me,” she assured. “Both of you. I’m ready and I’ll follow your lead.”

“Stay in the background as much as possible,” Stefano advised.

She was good at that. Good at being almost invisible. She’d practiced not drawing attention to herself since she was a child. “I will,” she said, because they needed to hear that she was strong enough, that she had her confidence back.

The three went up the front steps. The stairs were wooden and led up to the home. It was considered luxurious, in a good part of Tokyo, where residents had small yards with trees and foliage in abundance. It was small, and although it had four bedrooms, it only had one bath. The entire house could fit into her suite at Ricco’s estate.

Osamu answered the knock and her eyes widened as she stepped back to allow Stefano, Ricco and Mariko to enter. She didn’t greet Mariko, but she inclined her head out of respect for the riders. Dai came forward immediately, alarm on his face.

“Stefano. Ricco. It is good to see you.” He didn’t sound as though it was good to see them.

Mariko knew the International Council had already questioned him and he had been adamant that his sons had been killed in a car accident–that the Tanaka family had been as well.

He waved the riders toward chairs. Mariko didn’t say a word but slipped into the corner where she’d spent most of her childhood.

“We’ve come to speak with Osamu about a very pressing matter,” Stefano said. “It is extremely important.”

Dai looked shocked that they weren’t confronting him about his testimony to the International Council. Relief settled over his features and he almost relaxed. “Osamu.” He raised his voice to summon his wife, who had gone into the kitchen to make tea.

She came immediately, so fast Mariko was certain she hadn’t been in the kitchen.

“These gentlemen need to speak with you.”

Osamu smiled and inclined her head. “Mariko. We need tea.” She didn’t even look at the corner where Mariko had settled as she gave the order.

“Mariko no longer resides in your home,” Ricco said. “Nor is she your servant.”

Osamu looked confused. “She may no longer reside here, but she is still my daughter. Has she forgotten I took her in and raised her when no other would have her?”

Mariko went very still inside. Osamu had used the “mother” mask often when they had company, pointing out Mariko’s failings as a daughter. Dai seemed to buy into it every single time. Stefano and Ricco both acted as if they had adopted Nicoletta into their family. They might believe that Osamu thought of her as a daughter. That subtle reminder of “I took her in and raised her when no other would have her” was all about letting others know she’d come from the streets.

“Mariko hasn’t forgotten a single thing,” Ricco said. “Now she is here as my fiancee, not your daughter, and what we need to discuss with you concerns her. She needs to be here.”

He made it clear, and there was no subtlety about it, that Mariko was under his protection. Osamu didn’t fail to understand. She shot Mariko a look of pure poisonous hatred. She settled into the chair beside her husband and glared at Ricco.

“Fiancee?” Disgust twisted her voice. “You are a shadow rider with a great name. You allow the daughter of a whore to seduce you into giving her a ring?”

Ricco shocked Mariko by settling back in his chair, steepling his fingers and regarding Dai over the top of them. “Since when is rudeness to shadow riders and their families tolerated? This family has fallen a long way since I was a boy. There was a time the name Saito was highly respected. Now your woman insults both my fiancee and me in your home right in front of you. It is sad that your wife disrespects you so much that she would insult a fellow rider in your own home. You have my sympathy.”

Stefano stirred, nodding his head. “Mine as well, Dai.”

It took every ounce of discipline Mariko possessed to remain still and quiet in her little corner. Osamu looked as if she might have a stroke. Her face was mottled a beet red and she sputtered, trying to get out a protest. Dai shot her a look of resignation and disappointment.

“Enough, Osamu. You are to answer questions, not give your opinion.” His voice was low and defeated. He hung his head and reached for worry beads he always kept on him.

Mariko knew Osamu detested those beads.

“We’re looking for Mariko’s brother,” Stefano said. “Do you know where he is?”

Osamu cackled, sounding exactly, to Ricco’s ears, like the witches from horror movies. The strange laughter had Dai leaping to his feet and beginning to pace. He glared at his wife. She kept up the screeches, rocking herself back and forth, looking for all the world like an old crow.

At one time, Mariko had considered Osamu beautiful–the most beautiful of all the women in their circle. There was none of that beauty now. She looked old and evil. She could barely look at her, barely see the woman Mariko had hoped would one day come to see she’d tried her best to be a good daughter.

“Osamu!” Dai pressed his hands to his ears. “Stop that this instant.”

Osamu sobered immediately, as if her husband had slapped her across the face.

“Answer Stefano’s question.” Dai paced across the room, turning his back on her as if disgusted.

Osamu bared her teeth at Stefano. “Of course I know where he is, but you’ll never find him. Never.”

“Osamu,” Mariko whispered. “How could you be a part of harming him?”

Ricco shook his head, the gesture barely perceptible, but Mariko nodded, ashamed she’d broken her silence when both men had specifically asked her not to.

“You didn’t do your job, Mariko, and it was so simple. Just like the jobs I gave you in the house. The cooking and cleaning. Very simple tasks, but you always messed them up.”

Osamu’s attention was wholly on her now. Mariko realized why the brothers had asked her not to speak. Her very presence was inciting her.

Osamu leaned toward her. “You were a horrible child, always looking to get out of work. I had to beat you to keep your attention on your tasks. You needed attention all the time. Every second of the day. You ran over your own brother so he wouldn’t be able to be trained. You wanted all the accolades for yourself.”

“She didn’t run over Ryuu,” Ricco objected. “Have you forgotten that I was there that night? I saw them all. I witnessed what they did. Nao Yamamoto stomped on Ryuu. I saw Mariko save him. She kicked Nao and drew his attention away from her brother.”

“You lie!” Osamu shrieked, her face once more twisted. “Why do you lie, Ricco? We always treated you like a son. Why would you lie about such a girl?” Her features turned sly. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you? I knew you would. Her mother was a whore on the street and her daughter is just like her.”

“Enough, Osamu,” Dai snapped, his back to her. Both hands were behind his back, his fingers clenching and unclenching in two tight fists. “Answer them immediately. Where is the boy?”

At the lash of Dai’s command, Osamu sank back into her chair, looking small and defeated. She began to rock herself, her arms around her middle. “Where is he? Where is he?” Her voice rose in a singsong. “Where is he?” She chanted it over and over.

Dai turned from where he was staring out the window to look at his wife. To Mariko’s horror, there were tears in his eyes. “Osamu, please. Tell them where Ryuu is, so they can go. You’re becoming agitated again.”

It was very difficult to watch Osamu’s madness–there was no question that Mariko was looking at a woman totally insane. By turns she would look crafty and then, when she looked at her husband, she crumbled completely. It was all she could do not to go to the woman and try to comfort her. She must have made a move toward Osamu because Ricco’s hand suddenly shot out and caught her wrist in a viselike grip.

The action drew Osamu’s gaze and instantly her expression changed again. Hatred was stamped in every line of her face. “You’re such a vile creature. Tempting men just like your mother. She ruined Daiki. Ruined him. He was a rider of unimaginable talent, but he was so weak, letting himself be seduced by that bitch.”

Dai shook his head and left the room, his face lined with age and fatigue, with a terrible sorrow that was beyond all words. His shoulders slumped and he looked to Mariko as if he’d aged right in front of her.

“Osamu.” Stefano’s voice was very low, almost too low to hear, but the woman’s attention immediately swung to him. “You were going to tell us where Ryuu is.”

She shook her head and began to cackle again. “You’ll never find him.”

“Does Nao Yamamoto have him?”

Osamu tapped her knee hard with her fist. “He doesn’t have long to live. Time is running out for him.” She swung her head toward Mariko again. “You should have killed Ricco Ferraro, not fucked him.” She threw back her head and began laughing hysterically as if she’d told a great joke. “Not that it would have done you any good, but the other riders would know how you broke the code and killed another rider.”

“Osamu.” Stefano brought her attention back to him. “We need to know where Ryuu is.”

“You need? The oh-so-perfect Ferraros need something from Osamu?” She glared at Ricco. “I want my sons back. He took them from me. Give me back my sons and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“You know that’s impossible, Osamu.” Stefano continued to use her name in an attempt to keep her attention focused on him.

She leaned toward Ricco. “You’re going to die, but before you do, you’re going to suffer. Everyone you love will die, including that bitch in heat.”

Ricco remained passive, refusing to rise to her bait, nor did he change expression. He merely looked at the woman. Mariko had the unfamiliar urge to shake her, to bring Osamu out of the craziness that seemed to take her over.

“What did Ryuu ever do to you?” The question burst out of her. “He loved you, Osamu. Like a mother. He thought of you as his mother. How could you help Nao hurt him? You never liked me, I accept that, but Ryuu was loving to you.”

The fingers shackling her wrist tightened to the point of hurting her. She knew neither of the men wanted her speaking, but Ryuu was her brother, Osamu the only mother either of them remembered. Surely she had to have some feeling for Ryuu. He’d only been a baby when they were given to Osamu.

She tried to yank her hand out of Ricco’s restraining fingers, uncertain whether or not she was going to fling herself at Osamu and force the woman to tell them where her brother was being held. He refused to let go of her.

“You tell me where my brother is right this minute,” Mariko demanded.

Osamu surged out of her chair, flying at Mariko, hatred twisting the once beautiful face. In her hand she clutched a dagger she’d drawn from inside her cardigan. Ricco shoved Mariko aside as Osamu leapt the short distance between them. His chair went over with a crash as he stood, trying to judge when she would slash in the hopes of disarming her before she cut him.

Time slowed down. Tunneled. Mariko landed on the floor but her entire being centered on the dagger in Osamu’s hand. In that moment, she knew there was no living without Ricco. He was her choice. He would always be her choice, and she’d risked him by not listening to the two men. They were so right. A rider couldn’t be emotionally involved, and now she was close to losing the man she loved.

She tried to scramble off the floor, to distract Osamu enough that Ricco could take control of the dagger. Osamu looked right into Ricco’s eyes, fury, determination and hatred on her face as she slid under his arm to reach her goal.

A shot rang out. The sound was so loud in the confined space that Mariko’s ears hurt. A red hole blossomed in Osamu’s chest, right over her heart. Osamu’s stricken gaze shifted from Ricco’s face to over his shoulder. Mariko followed her gaze. To her horror, Dai stood there with a gun in his hand, looking at his wife, his expression so sorrowful Mariko felt the burn of tears.

Very slowly, Osamu’s body crumpled, in increments, her knees giving out, and then she bent forward and toppled to the floor. Ricco and Stefano didn’t take their eyes from Dai and the weapon in his hand. Ricco extended his hand to Mariko but didn’t look at her.

Mariko took his hand and he pulled her up but thrust her behind him. “Stay there.” It was a command, nothing less, and the tone carried a hint of a promise of retaliation if she didn’t listen.

“Dai,” Stefano said, speaking in that soft voice he always seemed to use. “Give me the gun.”

Dai stepped back out of reach, shaking his head. “None of this was her fault.”

“You need to give me the gun.”

“This wasn’t her fault. None of it,” Dai reiterated, tears streaming down his face. He moved carefully around Stefano and Ricco until he was standing beside his wife. “It was that boy. The Yamamoto boy. He was sick. Insane. His parents knew it. We all did, but no one wanted to go against Isamu.”

“Dai, give me the gun and let’s call the council,” Stefano said.

Dai slowly lowered himself to the floor, his grip on the gun never wavering. He pulled Osamu’s body into his lap and began to rock back and forth as if he could comfort her. “Isamu was my brother-in-law, Osamu’s brother. She worshiped him, and no matter what I said about allowing the boys to be with Nao, she wanted to please her brother. I knew better, but I couldn’t bear to see Osamu unhappy.”

“Dai.” Stefano moved closer. “Give me the gun.”

Dai shook his head. “Leave us, Stefano. Take Mariko and go.” His watery eyes lifted to Mariko’s face. “You are a Tanaka. A rider of the first quality. I gave you and Ryuu to Osamu hoping it would give her something to love. Instead she was cruel to you. Even then I couldn’t step in and take you from her because she didn’t have any other outlet. In the end, I failed everyone, but most of all, myself.”

“Dai, give Stefano the gun,” Mariko pleaded, without much hope.

“Go, my dear. Leave us now.”

“Do you know where Ryuu is?”

Dai shook his head. “Regrettably, I hid out in the country when Osamu would get too bad. I do know that whatever conspiracy she came up with, she wasn’t alone. I don’t know who was helping her, but when I was here, she spoke often in whispers to someone on the phone. Now please go and leave us in peace.”

Ricco reached for her hand, threaded his fingers through hers and tugged until she was under his shoulder. He turned her away from the only father she’d ever known. She stumbled once but kept walking with him, Stefano behind her. The gun sounded overly loud in the house, like a boom of thunder, hurting her ears. Even expecting it, she cried out, wincing. Ricco kept walking, his arm tight around her.

She didn’t understand. Osamu was totally insane, and yet Dai had loved her all those years. Clearly there had been something between Osamu and Daiki Tanaka at some point, and Osamu resented Mariko’s mother because she’d somehow stolen Daiki from her. Why wasn’t Osamu happy with the man she was with, the one showing her so much love and understanding over the years they were together?

“We have to get into the shadows as we leave,” Ricco whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. “No one can see us. We can’t hide the plane, but Stefano has business in Tokyo and it will just look as if he came here for that.”

Mariko nodded, still too numb to think clearly. Dai had shot his wife and then taken his own life. Osamu had refused to tell them where Ryuu was. She acted as if it were hysterically funny that they were looking for Ryuu and she had hidden him so well with his kidnappers that no one would ever get to him before it was too late. Mariko pressed a hand hard over her pounding heart. She had to slow her breathing before she stepped into the shadow. She was a rider. She had to pull it together.

“Mariko.” Ricco stopped just inside the door, turning to her, lifting her chin with gentle fingers, his body blocking Stefano from seeing the tears burning her eyes.

It was his gentleness that undid her, the tender look on his face. She didn’t know what to do with love. She’d never had it, had never known that the feeling could be so overwhelming.

“We’ll find him,” Ricco assured. “The investigators are looking for him as well. We’ll get it out of Nao.”

She nodded because she knew he meant it. She was losing hope, but she had to cling to her belief in him. He had a way about him that shouted confidence. He didn’t seem to think Ryuu was dead. His palm curled around the nape of her neck the way his ropes curled around her body when he tied her–the way his arms felt when he held her. Solid. Safe. Connecting them.

His forehead touched hers. His breath was warm against her lips. He kissed his way up to her left eye, his tongue taking the few tears that had managed to trickle down her cheek. He left a trail of kisses from her right eye down to her mouth, sipping away the tears.

“We have to go, Ricco.” Stefano’s voice held an urgent note as well as a compassionate one.

“I’m going to get you through this,” Ricco promised, not turning or acknowledging his brother’s warning.

Still, she knew he heard. He just wasn’t going to rush her before she was ready. “They were the only parents I ever knew. Dai was kind at times and indifferent at others. She sometimes accused me of flirting with him. That started when I was around ten, so we were careful to never be alone. He became mostly indifferent after that.”

She took a deep breath. His palm curling around the nape of her neck, his thumb sliding along her cheek in a small caress, his breath, warm and as steady as the beat of his heart, gave her a sense of calm. She squared her shoulders. “I’m ready.”

“You’re my woman, Mariko. I know I was born to be with you. To love you. When things are bad, you have me.” Ricco lifted her left hand to his mouth, kissing the ring on her finger. “You have my family. You aren’t alone, amore.”

She nodded, although she didn’t know why. She had no understanding of anything anymore. She was terrified for her brother, and even at the last, when Osamu had the chance to be a mother to both Ryuu and her, the woman had chosen not to. She would rather sacrifice Ryuu’s life than do one decent thing for Mariko.

Ricco jerked his chin toward the door. Stefano had been watching the shadows as the lights around the houses threw patterns on stairs, landscape and into the streets. He opened the door and was instantly swallowed by a shadow. Ricco stepped back to allow Mariko to precede him. She did without hesitation. At once the shadow pulled her apart, hurtling her after Stefano.

For the first time, the tube felt comforting despite the terrible pressure on her body. It was familiar to her. The strange feeling of being pulled apart. The weird spinning sensation as if the tube were a giant wave that rolled over her and was about to collapse on her head. She had ridden the shadows from the time she was two years old. It felt like more of a home to her than the house she’d grown up in.

In the privacy of the tube, she could admit that she was devastated, that Osamu’s betrayal of Ryuu was so unexpected and heartbreaking she could barely comprehend it. She had always believed that Osamu cared about Ryuu. Maybe she didn’t love him as a normal mother loved her children, but she’d raised him from the time he was a toddler. He had continued to live with Osamu until just a couple of years earlier.

She followed Stefano’s lead, switching from shadow to shadow until they were back at the airport. Franco was waiting, the door of the plane open, the lights providing the necessary shadows to slide up the stairs right into the privacy of the interior. As soon as Ricco was safely inside, Franco spoke into his cell and a car made its way to the plane.

Stefano immediately turned to Mariko, touching her cheek gently. “I’ve got to get to this meeting. You stay out of sight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She knew his meeting was their cover, the reason the Ferraro jet was in Tokyo. She nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mariko. There was nothing we could do to prevent that. Osamu clearly was out of her mind.”

“Dai couldn’t take it anymore,” she murmured.

“You know it was more than that,” Stefano said gently. “The International Council was investigating their crimes. Dai knew they’d be found guilty, and he didn’t want to face the lies they’d told their friends and family. He was a proud man, but a weak one. He allowed the Tanaka name to be taken from you and your brother. He allowed you to be treated badly in his home. Don’t mourn Dai or Osamu Saito. Neither deserve your tears or sorrow. Justice was coming for them, and Dai took the easy way out.” He swept her into his arms for a brief hug and then stepped out into the open, as if leaving the plane for the first time.

Ricco wrapped his arms around her and walked her deeper into the luxurious interior. “He’s trying to say you have a family, Mariko. We love you and we’ll help you find Ryuu.”

“Do you think he’s alive?” She couldn’t help but ask, even though she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear the answer.

“He’s alive,” he assured.

Her gaze jumped to his face. It was, as usual, impossible to read. Something in his tone sent goose bumps swarming over her flesh and she rubbed her arms. Ricco could be

very intimidating when he chose.