“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.