Rita was back, this time looking determined. Color had stolen up her neck into her cheeks, but she gamely smiled at Mariko. “Have you had time to look over the menu?”

“I’ll have the vegetarian omelet,” Mariko said. “It looks delicious. No toast or hash browns.”

“And you, Mr. Ferraro?” Rita asked, her chin up.

“The scramble for me, and please include the hash browns and toast.” He smiled at the girl and she nearly dropped the pad she hadn’t been writing on. “How is your brother doing?”

“He’s fine. He makes very good grades. He’s been bussing here a couple of days a week.” Rita nearly stumbled over the words, but she got them out.

Ricco nodded his head. “That’s good. Boys can get a little wild as I’m sure you know. You or your brother need anything, you let me know.” He handed her a card. “In case of trouble. Keep that with you.”

She moistened her lips and nodded several times, pocketing the little card that held just a single number on it. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She hurried away, a huge smile on her face.

“You just made a conquest for life,” Mariko pointed out.

“She’s not alone in the world. The Biagis are really good people, and they love Rita and her brother.”

“You knew about her before the hostess ever said a word, didn’t you?” she asked curiously.

He nodded. “My family owns quite a few of the buildings in this area and we lease them to the businesses. We like to know who the prospective tenants are before we do business with them. The Biagis have been here nearly as long as my family. Their parents owned the café before them. Bernado and Leah Biagi took it over about ten years ago. They were best friends with Rita’s parents. She was eleven when her parents were killed in a botched robbery at their home. She took it very hard.”

Mariko studied his face. He hadn’t sounded any different than he had one moment earlier, yet there was something about the way he gave her the information that made her believe that botched robbery had been taken personally.

“Did they catch the robbers?”

“Murderers,” he corrected. “They were murderers. And yes, they were caught and sentenced, but they escaped before they got to prison. They had brothers and parents every bit as brutal as they were.”

“Were? I take it they were caught.”

He shook his head. “They were found dead in an old abandoned warehouse along with two brothers and their father. The police speculated a rival gang had killed them. Their necks were broken.”

She could guess how. The Ferraros had clearly considered Rita and Maso’s parents under their protection. Shadow riders moved through shadows without detection, dispensing justice when the law couldn’t. She didn’t doubt for one moment that a rider or riders had extracted justice for the children.

She looked up at his impassive face. Expressionless. Tough. No one could ever doubt that Ricco Ferraro would handle his enemies with swift and certain death once he went on the hunt. A little shiver went down her spine.

“Hey.”

Her gaze jumped to his. At once she felt the impact of those black velvet eyes. She couldn’t look away from him.

“I shouldn’t have brought up something so unpleasant. We’re getting to know each other, and now you look a little afraid. That’s the last thing I want.”

Afraid? She looked afraid? That was impossible. She was very good at keeping all emotion from showing, wasn’t she? Was she so shaken up that she wasn’t able to keep him from seeing inside of her?

“Tell me about you,” he encouraged.

She had to stick as close to the truth as possible. Every shadow rider could hear lies and, in most cases, compel the truth. “I guess hearing about Rita threw me for a moment. You already know about my mother. My brother is eighteen months younger than I am. We were taken in by a family, but I could never understand why.”

Osamu had said her husband had noticed the shadows coming from her body even then, when she was three and on the street. That had been the reason given for the family having taken her in. They had known she could be trained as a rider.

“The family despised what my mother was and the fact that I look American. My brother looks Japanese. He was very… broken. His bones were smashed when he was very little. Sometimes they were good to him; other times, not so much.”

For a moment she could hear the sound of Osamu Saito’s voice telling the two children what a burden they were. Mariko had scrubbed their home from top to bottom daily, cooked and served the woman, but was beaten for being sloppy. She was reminded daily that her mother was a whore and she would likely become one as well – that the beatings were for her own good. All the while, she had trained as a rider. The more she excelled, the worse Osamu had treated her.

She had thought she had Ricco’s complete focus, but the moment she told him about the way she’d been treated, his eyes were on her and there was nothing and no one else in the room. Not even when Rita put their food in front of them. She felt hot under his gaze. She felt a glaring spotlight. He was so focused it was as if she had a laser on her. There was no telling what went on behind his tough mask, but she didn’t like feeling as if she were always one step behind. She needed to be in control at all times, yet she felt off-balance with Ricco.

She’d learned discipline in a hard school, and this was too important. The life of her brother was far too important to allow something like physical attraction to get in the way. But then, the problem was that the attraction to Ricco was far more than physical and she’d never experienced it before, so she didn’t know exactly how to handle it.

“Tell me about your brother.”

She hadn’t expected that, either. Ricco kept her off-balance, but she didn’t know how he did it. “Ryuu.” she could barely say his name without choking up. She couldn’t look at him, not into those eyes that saw right into her soul. “His name is Ryuu, and it means ‘dragon spirit.’ He’s amazing. Truly amazing. A genius.” Pride was in her voice. Love. She couldn’t help it.

She loved her brother fiercely. Protectively. “When he was a baby, his bones were smashed and not all of them healed properly. He has trouble walking sometimes, but he’s never once complained. He’s so smart.” She heard the pride in her voice, but she couldn’t help herself. She was proud of him.

“Where is he now?”

Her stomach rolled and she pressed her hand beneath the table to it. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Ricco kept up small talk throughout their breakfast, and as they rose to walk out, he put his hand on the small of Mariko’s back again. She moved slightly, an indication that she was uncomfortable with the familiarity, but she had to get used to his touch. There was no doubt in his mind that Mariko Majo was in fact Mariko Tanaka from the legendary Tanaka family.