“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.