Shadow Reaper Page 10

  Mariko blinked up at him. Francesca will be there. She was helping him, but he thought Francesca could do a better job. She was quite capable of looking after his injuries without another woman interfering. She forced her mind away from jealousy. That horrible tiny flare of resentment couldn't be called anything else.

  Ricco Ferraro didn't deserve death. Whatever crime he had supposedly committed to be on someone's hit list, there had to be extenuating circumstances. Mariko had been delivering justice to criminals since she was fourteen years old. She knew criminals and she knew good.

  The moment Ricco had realized there was a truck barreling down on them, he'd shoved her into Lucia, moving both out of its path. He'd had to turn and catch Nicoletta up, running with her to get her clear. He could have saved himself and left the others to their fate, but he'd risked his life to get them all clear--especially the teenager. He had placed himself in jeopardy.

  The driver had been determined to kill them. Or one of them. Mariko honestly didn't know which one. It stood to reason that the intended victim had been Ricco, but only because she'd been ordered to kill him. Even after he'd thrown the girl from him, the truck had continued on its course to crush her. Mariko had managed to throw a rock at the windshield to obscure the driver's vision and hopefully slow him down. He'd pointed a gun out of the driver's side window, but it was impossible to tell if he was firing at anyone in particular.

  Ricco moved with his fluid, flowing walk, although she could tell he was really hurting. She was fairly certain no one else could. Emilio and Enzo moved in on either side of them. She kept her arm firmly around his waist, helping to support him without looking as if she were.

  He went straight to Lucia and the teenager, who were pressed against the side of the building. He took Lucia's hand and bent to brush a kiss across her cheek. "Are you both all right?"

  Nicoletta, her arms around Lucia, nodded. "I texted Amo. He's on his way. I'm going to take Lucia to the deli and get her something to drink. I've already locked the store."

  She appeared suddenly very grown-up, not at all the young, uncertain teen Mariko had been introduced to. She was transformed, somehow, by the crisis, but she looked scared and resigned. She looked like a girl hunted--and haunted--yet standing up now that whatever the trouble was had found her.

  "Nicoletta."

  Ricco's voice was so gentle it turned Mariko's heart over.

  "We don't know what this is about yet. We're going to wait and see before jumping to conclusions. We're heading to the deli as well, so we'll walk with you. Emilio and Enzo are with us, and my family will be here any moment."

  So would the police. The sirens were louder than ever, and clearly that made Nicoletta nervous as well. Still, the girl's hands on Lucia were steady and she nodded, turning the older woman toward the deli. Ricco and Mariko walked behind them, and as they did, Mariko for the first time could see the shadows on the teenager. She threw tubes out, tubes that sought connections with other shadows. Her breath caught in her throat. The girl was more of a mystery than ever. Clearly she was a shadow rider.

  Ricco walked upright, making every effort not to lean on her, but she kept her arm firmly around his waist, fitting under his shoulder when she never would have walked so intimately with a man. Strangely, she didn't mind. In fact, she liked thinking of him as hers to take care of and she dreaded getting to the deli where Francesca would take over. She wondered why he'd had to advertise for a rope model if he had Francesca.

  Instinctively, she knew Ricco wouldn't want her to ask him if he was all right. They both knew he wasn't and he wouldn't want to acknowledge the truth of that, or let anyone else know. She was well aware he was still recovering.

  Looking up at him, at his handsome, rugged features, one couldn't tell that every single step was agony, but she could. She was connected to him through their shadows and she felt his pain. He was stoic, as every shadow rider had been taught to be, but she didn't like that he was so exposed. Out in the open. Every eye seemed to be on him.

  She knew the impression they were giving to the watchers. She appeared to be his current girlfriend, something that didn't sit well with her. She didn't like the idea of being one of so many. His women never lasted long, most no more than a night, and the idea of the paparazzi getting ahold of her picture with him was distasteful. Still, she couldn't let go of him or move away.

  "Thank you."

  He said the words so softly she almost didn't hear. She glanced up at him again and found his eyes fixed on her face. He knew what she was feeling. As she was growing up no one could read her, not even her beloved brother. She kept a serene mask in place despite every humiliation, every beating. She scrubbed floors and trained harder than every male rider, uncaring how sore she was and never allowing anyone to see how much she hurt. She had more practice than any other rider that she knew of in hiding how she felt, yet Ricco read her.

  "You're welcome." What else was there to say?

  A beautiful woman with Italian flawless skin, lots of generous curves, and a wealth of black hair stood holding open the door of the deli. Instinctively, Mariko knew this was Francesca. Francesca put her arms around Lucia and drew the older woman and teen inside the store, but her eyes were on Ricco, assessing the damage to him. Mariko knew it looked bad. His clothes were torn and bloody from the fall off the hood of the truck to the street.

  "No gunshot wounds, cara," Ricco assured her. "It looks worse than it is."

  That was such a lie. Surely she wouldn't believe him, but Mariko could see the relief in her eyes as she turned away to help Nicoletta with Lucia. Ricco didn't let go of Mariko. If anything, he held on to her tighter. His touch all at once seemed possessive, although what had changed, she didn't know.

  "Mr. Ferraro." A shorter man, clearly the owner of the deli, hurried toward them. "Is everything okay? What can I do? What do you need?"

  "It's Ricco, Pietro," he corrected and pulled out a chair for Mariko.

  She was afraid to let go of him, but he stood stoically, his face a little pale. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, but she knew anyone seeing him would put it down to the wild ride on the hood of the rampaging truck.

  Pietro bobbed his head and watched anxiously as Ricco sat down at the table with Lucia and Nicoletta.

  "We'd appreciate as much privacy as possible, Pietro," he said. "The police will be in asking questions soon. I imagine my family will show up as well. Emilio and Enzo must talk to the cops. I've texted our lawyer and he'll be here soon. We'll pay you for the loss of business, of course."

  Pietro waved his hand to dismiss such a notion, but Mariko knew the Ferraro family would insist. Pietro clearly knew it, too. He rushed over to the door and locked it, turning the sign to closed, and then hurried back behind the counter. Francesca returned from the back with a washcloth and towel. Ricco took both and just held them.

  "Lucia, should I call the doctor to look you over?" he asked.

  "No, no, I'm just shaken. I thought I would lose Nicoletta, and I can't lose another child." She clung to the teenager. "Already Amo and I think of her as our family." She leaned into Nicoletta heavily.

  The girl wrapped her arm around the older woman. "You aren't going to lose me. Did you see Ricco? He moved like lightning." The teen managed a small laugh, and Lucia responded with a smile, blowing him a kiss.

  "Mariko, you hit the ground hard. Do you need a doctor?" Lucia asked.

  "Thank you," Nicoletta added, looking at Mariko for the first time. "Lucia told me you saved her from the truck as well as a very bad fall."

  "It was actually Ricco saving both of us from the truck," Mariko corrected. "He shoved me into Lucia hard enough that we both were cleared from the path. He did that before he grabbed you and ran."

  A man emerged from the hallway behind Pietro. She knew immediately he had to be a Ferraro. He came striding out from behind the counter, his gaze moving first over Ricco, taking in the blood, torn clothes and beads of sweat, then moving on to Nicole
tta, Lucia and finally to her. He was every bit as intimidating as Ricco. He looked younger, but no less lethal.

  "Ricco?" One word. He injected more into that single name than she could imagine anyone doing.

  "I'm fine, Giovanni. This is Mariko. She took care of Lucia for me."

  She took the wet cloth from his hand, very annoyed at his darling Francesca for not bothering to try to clean up the wounds. It would be a wonder if he didn't get an infection. She glared at him when he tried to pull away. To her shock, he allowed her to dab at the blood and sweat on his face.

  "Mariko," Giovanni said.

  She was beginning to think just saying a name was a language in itself; she just didn't know the family well enough to know what the inflections meant. She nodded, noting Giovanni bent to brush Francesca's cheek first and then Lucia's and Nicoletta's. Nicoletta went stiff, but she didn't pull away.

  Giovanni toed a chair around and straddled it, sitting across from his brother. "Was it deliberate?"

  Nicoletta made a small sound of distress and instantly Francesca and Lucia put an arm around her. Mariko wished she knew where the girl fit in and what had happened to her, why someone might be after her.

  "Yes." Ricco's voice was clipped. "But we don't know who. It looked as if they were trying for either Nicoletta or me, but it could have been Mariko as well."

  "Or Lucia," Nicoletta said, her voice tight.

  Mariko was aware of another brother. He emerged from behind them, where the deeper shadows were.

  "Bullshit," the newcomer said. "No one would ever want to harm Lucia, would they amore? Well, not unless you stole some woman's man. Or ran off with one of your ten thousand admirers."

  "Taviano," Lucia said softly. "You know if Amo throws me out, I will run to the Ferraro family. No other men can compare."

  Taviano bent down to brush a kiss across her cheek, touched Nicoletta on the top of her head and hugged Francesca. "What trouble are you in now, Ricco?"

  Mariko noticed that Nicoletta avoided Taviano's gaze, as she did Ricco's and Giovanni's. Taviano smiled at Mariko. "I'm Taviano," he announced. "One of Ricco's many brothers."

  "Mariko," she said, concentrating on getting the blood off of Ricco's head. He'd hit the side of it fairly hard. The road had shredded his suit down one arm and part of his thigh. Blood seeped through the material. He sucked in his breath when she laid the cloth on his arm over the torn flesh. "Ricco, I don't think you need stitches, it's mainly surface, although there are a couple of spots that are deep."

  "It's fine," he said abruptly and pulled away from her.

  She knew immediately he was embarrassed in front of his brothers and the other women. He didn't want them to know he was hurt, although how he could hit the street like that and not get hurt, especially after the car crash, she couldn't see.

  "Don't be a dick, Ricco," Giovanni said.

  "I'm not being a dick," he objected. He took the cloth from her and tossed it on the table. "I'm being brave. Can't you tell the difference?"

  He said it straight-faced and it was all Mariko could do to keep from laughing.

  "Amo is at the door, Pietro," Francesca said, already hurrying to allow Lucia's husband inside. "Vinci is with him."

  "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 comin
g 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.