“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.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I wondered how the hell they were able to know where we all were,” Taviano said. “Which shop Emme was in. Where Nicoletta was. Even Phillip’s mistress. How did our enemies keep tabs on us without our knowledge?”

Stefano’s apartment was once again the gathering place for all of Ricco’s siblings. The penthouse smelled delicious. Francesca and Taviano had whipped up a dinner after a brutal training session in Stefano’s very large training hall. It was the first time Mariko had ever trained with them, yet they didn’t go light on her. She was happy they respected her enough after watching her work out to treat her as a real opponent. She didn’t do that badly against them, either.

Only Stefano, Ricco and Taviano could spar with her, and Stefano watched over Ricco like a hawk. Emmanuelle was still wearing the immobilizer and sling to keep from moving her shoulder. Vittorio was out of the hospital. He watched the sparring matches but was still forbidden to fight one of his brothers or sister. He worked out a little on the mat, but mostly it was stretching. Giovanni’s femur had been broken and needed extensive surgery. He had rods and pins in his leg. It was kept immobile by a long brace. Recovery was a minimum of four months, but more likely six. It was imperative that all metal be removed if he was going to ride again. He was there, pale and hurting, but he didn’t complain.

“Did you figure it out?” Stefano asked as he reached for the basket of warm sourdough bread smothered in butter and garlic salt. “And what’s with their fixation on Nicoletta? Have you figured that out?”

Giovanni reached for the pasta, couldn’t quite make it, so Mariko added the pasta to his plate. She added two pieces of the garlic bread and a very large helping of salad before serving herself.