Ricco closed his eyes and shook his head. He’d been late again. For the second time, and someone else had paid the price.

“Ricco, I need a report,” Stefano said. “The police will be here any moment. Let the others take care of Vittorio. He isn’t going to die. He’s too tough for that. And he’s given me his word. Haven’t you, Vittorio.” Stefano pinned his younger brother with a father’s demanding gaze. “You. Will. Not. Die.”

Vittorio’s eyes clung to Stefano’s. He nodded slightly, but didn’t attempt to speak, every ragged breath a struggle. Stefano took Ricco’s arm and tugged him back away from their fallen brother. “I need to know what happened.”

Ricco allowed Mariko to slide her hands into the deepest stab wound to apply pressure until the medics got there. He tried to rise, but his legs were pure rubber. There wasn’t a place on his body that didn’t hurt, but most importantly, his head was pounding and his vision had gone back to blurred.

Giovanni slipped his arm around him and helped him up. The brothers closed ranks around Vittorio and the women.

Taviano aided Amo in his struggle to stand. Nicoletta hurried to help. Taviano cut her off with a smooth step, nodding to Lucia. “Take him inside and have him lie down. I’ll send one of the paramedics in to him.” He caught Nicoletta’s arm. “We need you out here.”

She nodded, her features a mask of worry as she anxiously watched Lucia help Amo into the house. When she turned back, Taviano’s gentleness was gone. He gripped her arm and tugged her into the circle of his family, his fingers taking possession of her chin to turn her face, examining the bruising. “You’re limping.” It was an accusation.

Suddenly she had the attention of all the Ferraros. Anyone would find that uncomfortable, but a teenage girl especially. They knew her past. They knew she’d been raped repeatedly by her step-uncles and that the head of the bloodiest gang in New York had claimed her for his own. They were the only ones who knew, and Nicoletta had a difficult time in their presence.

“One of them pounded the hell out of her leg,” Ricco said. “If it wasn’t for Mariko, she’d be dead, along with Amo and Lucia. She ran in front of a gun, arms spread wide to keep the Faustis from being shot. She also jumped on the back of one of them to keep Vittorio and me alive.” There was admiration in his voice.

Taviano touched her face in several places. “What the hell were you thinking?”

She jerked her head away. “I was thinking I didn’t want any of them to die.”

“Taviano, we’ll discuss all this with her later,” Stefano said. “I want a report, Ricco. You look like hell. Do you need to sit down?”

He did. He’d been surreptitiously looking around for a bench to sprawl out on, but now, with his brother’s question, he felt he couldn’t. “I was running late.” He might as well confess right now. “I didn’t want Vittorio to have to wait for me so I took the shadows.” He didn’t look at Stefano as he said so, but he heard his older brother swear under his breath. “I won’t lie, it hurt like a bitch, so I was a little disoriented coming out of the tube. I didn’t feel anyone there until I was stepping out. I took a bat across my shoulder and it was on.”

“They were waiting for you? At the entrance to the tube? In front of a shadow?”

Stefano turned his cool, penetrating stare onto Nicoletta. “Did you see them attack Vittorio?”

She nodded. “I was climbing out my window and he stepped out of the shadows. I hadn’t seen him. Suddenly all these men surrounded him, kicking, punching, beating him with a bat. I started to come all the way out, but he yelled at me to get inside. I obeyed until Ricco got there. It was only a few moments, but I thought they’d kill Vittorio and it would be my fault.” Tears welled up but she turned her head away from them, embarrassed to be caught crying.

Giovanni stepped closer to her. Protective. “You did good, kid. Great.”

The ambulance arrived, and the next couple of hours were a blur. Vittorio was raced to the hospital. Ricco lied and said Mariko and he had been together all along with Vittorio, watching the house because they all feared Nicoletta hadn’t quite settled. Vinci was once again there and refused to allow Nicoletta to be questioned more than absolutely necessary. She went to the hospital with Amo and Lucia. Stefano sent two bodyguards with them. The doctors – and Stefano – insisted Ricco have a CT scan because of the blow to his head. He reluctantly agreed, mainly because Stefano wouldn’t budge. Fortunately, aside from a whopping headache and blurred vision, he didn’t have any significant damage that they could see other than the concussion he already knew he had. Ricco insisted Mariko could watch him at home.

Emilio and Enzo drove Ricco and Mariko back to the house with orders to stay no matter what Ricco said. No one, not even the little rebel Emmanuelle, defied Stefano when he was in such a mood. Ricco didn’t feel defiant in the least. If Stefano wanted to send an army to defend him, he wouldn’t argue. He wasn’t up to defending himself let alone anyone else. His head hurt like a son of a bitch and every muscle in his body was screaming at him.

“Did Stefano say he had guards on Vittorio?” Mariko asked anxiously.

“Stefano will guard Vittorio. Taviano will be with him, and Emmanuelle and Giovanni will guard Nicoletta, Lucia and Amo,” Ricco assured as he closed the front door to his home and leaned against it. “They weren’t riders attacking us, but they knew to stand just outside the shadows.” He made it a statement.

No one outside their family knew about the riders other than other riders and their families. There were very few of them in the world. Mariko stood in front of him, turned away from him, her head bowed, that sweet, vulnerable nape of her neck inviting his touch. He’d have done it, too, the craving was that strong, but he hurt too much to extend his arm.

“Were they targeting Nicoletta or me, Mariko?” He waited patiently for her answer, even though the room was spinning and it felt as if spikes were being driven through his head one slow beat at a time.

Several seconds went by before she slowly raised her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “You, Ricco. I have something to show you.” She pulled a paper folded into a small square from inside the pocket of the pin-striped suit she wore, indicating to everyone in their world that she was a rider.

His eyes on her face, he took the paper from her, unfolded it while still looking at her and then dropped his gaze to read the contents. The message was typed in a bold font: Kill Ricco Ferraro, a rider in the States, or your brother Ryuu dies. You have three weeks to complete this task.

“You haven’t killed me.” He made that a statement as well. There was the faintest humor in his voice, because, after all, it was pretty evident she hadn’t. He was standing there. He’d known all along she was a rider and probably there to kill him, but not for the reasons he first thought. Still, he was just a little hurt and more than worried that she’d slip through his fingers.