“Our lawyer,” Ricco told Mariko. He caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers and bringing it to his chest as he leaned into her. “I’m sorry for being a dick. Sometimes I just am, but I’ll watch it.”

Giovanni snorted his derision. “Sometimes? Don’t believe a fucking thing he says, Mariko. It’s all the time.”

She could hear the affection in their voices. They included her in their circle, and it made her feel ashamed. She should have pulled her hand from Ricco’s but she told herself she didn’t want to embarrass him. If she was strictly honest with herself, that had nothing to do with it, but she just couldn’t go there yet.

As Vinci and Amo entered through the front door, two more men came from the back of the store. Mariko knew immediately that these were also Ricco’s brothers and one of them was definitely Stefano Ferraro, head of the Ferraro family. The family was legendary around the world, known to other riders, respected and admired. He strode in, his gaze taking in everything, the minutest detail, but mostly he was centered on his brother, noting every detail, every road burn, his color and breathing.

She had the strangest need, almost a compulsion, to shield Ricco from his brother’s scrutiny. From all of them. She sensed he detested appearing weak in front of anyone, but especially his family. He didn’t relax; if anything, he became much more tense. She moved closer to him, not understanding her need to shield him, but determined to do so all the same.

From the back, a woman hurried into the room. She was dressed in the same pin-striped suit her brothers were wearing, and there was no mistaking she was Emmanuelle Ferraro. She was absolutely gorgeous with her blue eyes and her thick dark hair. “Ricco!” She rushed right up to him and flung her arms around him, practically dragging him out of the chair. There were genuine tears in her eyes.

“I’m all right, Emmanuelle. A little truck can’t hurt me,” he assured.

“No, but the fall on top of your car going into a wall might,” she objected. She hugged him again.

Mariko wanted to tell her that just touching him had to hurt him, but she kept silent, wondering when the last time she hugged her brother had been. Had she ever showed him the love she felt? Told him? She’d let Osamu Saito stamp out every joy in her, every bit of personality. As she’d grown, she moved through life in silence, hoping not to be noticed, afraid of drawing attention to herself.

She was big. Clumsy. Ugly. She’d brought shame on her family with her American looks and her undisciplined passion, which clearly meant she followed in the footsteps of her whore of a mother.

She was surrounded by Ferraros. They were shadow riders. Americans. Their reputation was impeccable. They weren’t considered undisciplined; they were almost revered. They freely showed affection to one another, and concern. It was clear they loved one another. She couldn’t imagine that they would go very long without expressing that love. She loved her brother – loved him with everything in her – yet she couldn’t remember telling him, not since they were very little and she’d whisper it to him, afraid of being overheard.

Suddenly she could barely breathe. She was always calm, yet now, in the face of the knowledge that she might never find her brother, never be able to tell him that she cared, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find a way to catch her breath. She wasn’t being fair to Ricco, contemplating killing him when she knew she never would. He was too good of a man. But she’d come with the vague idea that she might, and now she was using him to hide while she figured out her next move. That wasn’t fair, either.

She’d tried to live a life of honor, but practically overnight she’d become the very person Osamu Saito had pounded into her night and day – that person she’d always told herself she wasn’t and could never be. Her throat closed and it seemed impossible to draw in air. Around her, the talk continued, the brothers reassuring themselves that Ricco, Lucia and Nicoletta were all right. They thanked Emilio and Enzo as well as her.

She felt a fraud. A terrible fraud. If they all knew that she had come to kill Ricco Ferraro, that she was willing to harm a fellow shadow rider, none of them would want to sit in the same room with her. She had to go. Right then. She knew the police were coming to question everyone; she heard the lawyer assuring them that the cameras in the street would have picked up the action. Still, she couldn’t stay. She had to leave.

She made one small move, a simple shifting of her feet. Ricco leaned back in his chair and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close to him. At the same time, his head turned until his mouth was close to her ear.

“Stay with me, Mariko. I want you to stay.”

CHAPTER SIX

Stay with me, Mariko. I want you to stay. That’s all Ricco had said. In that voice. The one that whispered over her skin and seeped into her pores to drown her in him. In his will. He left it to her – her choice. But then, she was coming to understand, with Ricco Ferraro, she had very little will of her own. Once he told her he wanted her to stay, she’d been lost in the wonder of that. No one had ever wanted her. No one. Sometimes, not even the brother she loved with everything in her. Osamu had done her best to drive a wedge between them as they’d grown up until it had reached the point that Mariko wasn’t certain Ryuu wanted her around.

She paced around the beautiful room Ricco had given to her to use. She’d never had so much space. She thought it would overwhelm her, but she found she liked it. She especially loved that the French doors opened into a gorgeous garden. The police had questioned all of them for what seemed hours. Coming home to the solace of this room had been calming after everything that had happened.

She could tell Ricco was exhausted, but no one else seemed to notice – no one except for his oldest brother. The police questioned everyone over and over until the Ferraro lawyer had objected. They presented a united front always, and they kept Lucia, Amo and especially Nicoletta in their center, surrounding them with strength. Vinci made it clear to the police that they weren’t to question anyone without him being present.

She found it strange that Ricco’s parents hadn’t shown up when everyone else had, but then in all the conversations, she’d never once heard his parents mentioned by anyone. She knew they were alive, she’d researched the family thoroughly – although she’d missed Francesca’s connection. Her relationship with Stefano was new.

She was going to have to tell Ricco the truth. There was no other option. It was only right. She didn’t want to see the condemnation in his eyes, but she had to warn him. They all thought it was a possibility that the truck had been aiming at Nicoletta, but she knew better. She knew there was a hit out on Ricco and she wasn’t the only assassin sent. She would lose everything. She would lose him. His family. This place. Her hideout. Most of all, she would lose a very important ally.

She had to find Ryuu before it was too late. She’d been given three weeks to kill Ricco or Ryuu was a dead man. She didn’t know who had him, why they wanted Ricco Ferraro dead, but she knew even if she killed him, whoever had taken her brother would have no reason to keep him alive. Right now, she could demand proof of life whenever they called her, but once the shadow rider was dead, they would kill Ryuu. She had a place to stay in Ricco’s home, a base to work from. If she came clean, there was a possibility he would help her. More likely, he would throw her out.