Shadow Reaper
Page 4
Stefano rubbed the bridge of his nose as the car slowed and then turned through the heavy throng of paparazzi standing on the sidewalk nearly blocking the drive leading up to Ricco’s home. Both men ignored them as the driver inched his way through the crowd to the high iron gates. “It’s a risk, Ricco. Not the art. The woman.”
Ricco nodded. “I’m aware of that. I want to find someone I can fall in love with. Someone who could love me and maybe understand if I have to be with another woman.”
“That’s highly unlikely.”
“I know. I know that. I just can’t live like this anymore.” Staying up all night, drinking himself into a stupor or partying until the sun came up with multiple women at the same time. Never feeling anything. He watched as the gates swung open to allow them inside. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until they closed behind the car, locking out the paparazzi.
“Someone threatened us, didn’t they?”
Stefano asked it quietly – so quietly Ricco almost missed it and almost asked what he meant. Stefano said it like he already knew, that he was just confirming. Of course he would figure it out. He’d been the head of the family for years, since he was a teenager. He’d taken care of them all when he was even younger than that. He would know. He’d probably considered that possibility all along.
“I can’t talk about it.” That was confirmation and it wasn’t.
Stefano swore, a long tirade of Italian. He kept his voice low, vicious, and Ricco heard the promise of retaliation there.
He shook his head. “Just let it go.”
“Let it go?” Stefano looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “They threaten my brother, a fellow rider, and you want me to let it go. We have a council —”
“Don’t. I mean it, Stefano. Let it go. There are reasons.”
“There are never reasons for one family of riders to threaten another family.”
“It was a long time ago. I’m asking you to let it go.” He didn’t allow desperation to show on his face, no matter that he was feeling it. Stefano would go to war in a heartbeat over him, but there was no way to know how many families in Japan would unite against them. Ricco wasn’t willing to risk his brothers, sister, or cousins.
He’d remained silent for years. They’d been long, hard years of always looking over his shoulder and training harder than ever. Often, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d go to one of his brothers’ homes and watch over them, paranoid something might happen to them. After several years had gone by, he was certain they were safe, and he didn’t want Stefano to stir up trouble.
“I think finding a partner for your art is a positive move, Ricco.” Stefano switched subjects again. “Looking for a woman to be your partner when you know you’ll have to walk away later is something else altogether.”
Ricco already knew that, but he was losing too much of himself. Going too wild in a desperate attempt to feel something. Anything. He was already too far gone and didn’t know if there was anyone who could bring him back. He’d deliberately separated himself from his family, spending less time in public with them and more time racing or partying in the hopes that others would think he didn’t care about them. He must have done a good job for Stefano to ask him if the family mattered to him.
Ricco dropped his hand to the door, needing to escape. Stefano shifted in his seat as if he might follow him. “I need to lie down,” he said, knowing his brother would hear the ring of truth. He did need a bed and fast or he was going to topple right over.
Stefano subsided. “Angelina Laconi is going to come check on you, and don’t give me any trouble over it. She’s a nurse.”
“She makes eyes at me.” Now she’d have excuses to touch him. Life sucked. He wasn’t going to get out of having a nurse drop by, he could tell by Stefano’s expression.
“Live with it. Emmanuelle made certain your fridge was stocked and Francesca made several meals for you. They’re in the freezer. One’s in the fridge.”
“Please thank them for me.” Ricco shoved open the door and forced his legs to work. It wasn’t easy, but he had discipline in abundance, a trait every rider needed. He was very, very aware of Stefano’s eyes on him as he made his way up to the door.
“Francesca.” Ricco bent his head to brush a kiss along his sister-in-law’s cheek. The weeks of healing and physical therapy had helped. Pain didn’t crash through him every time he took a step, and he’d begun training again, although Stefano watched him closely. His older brother was still unaware of the training hall Ricco had installed in his home a few years earlier. Most gatherings were in Stefano’s penthouse in the Ferraro Hotel.
“Ricco.” Francesca flashed her amused smile, the one that mocked him a little for his greeting.
He rarely said hello or good-bye. He said her name, and she retaliated by saying his. He loved that about her. He loved everything about her, mainly that she loved his brother more than anything or anyone.
He’d never learned the art of relaxing. He could play his part out in public, but at home, with his brothers and sister, he had always been the one to pace around, help Taviano, his youngest brother, in the kitchen, or find his way to the training room and work out while the others conversed. Since the accident, he’d made a few attempts at being better.
“Smells good.”
“I hope it tastes good. I’ve been working with a few new recipes for the artichoke sauce you said you liked and I think I’ve got it for you now. I’m serving homemade pasta with artichoke sauce, zucchini flan, guinea fowl and stuffed flowers fried. Oh, and for dessert, tiramisu.”
“Nice. I’ve never had anything you’ve ever cooked that I didn’t like.” It was the truth. He wasn’t into flattery, but Francesca was truly the nicest woman he’d ever met. She loved and accepted them all right along with her demanding husband. “Where’s the boss?”
She laughed. “He only thinks he’s the boss. I still have my job at the deli, don’t I? You know how much he hates me working.”
“Here’s a little news flash for you, honey,” Ricco said. “We all hate you working. We’ve got enemies.”
“I don’t.”
They’d taken care of her enemy. Permanently. “They can get to us through you,” he pointed out. It was an old argument and one he was certain Stefano had tried many times. Francesca might be the sweetest woman he knew, but she was no pushover.
The fact that Francesca still had her job surprised him. He couldn’t imagine his oldest brother allowing his woman to put herself in danger, and Stefano had no trouble bossing all his siblings around.
Ricco nodded. “I’m aware of that. I want to find someone I can fall in love with. Someone who could love me and maybe understand if I have to be with another woman.”
“That’s highly unlikely.”
“I know. I know that. I just can’t live like this anymore.” Staying up all night, drinking himself into a stupor or partying until the sun came up with multiple women at the same time. Never feeling anything. He watched as the gates swung open to allow them inside. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until they closed behind the car, locking out the paparazzi.
“Someone threatened us, didn’t they?”
Stefano asked it quietly – so quietly Ricco almost missed it and almost asked what he meant. Stefano said it like he already knew, that he was just confirming. Of course he would figure it out. He’d been the head of the family for years, since he was a teenager. He’d taken care of them all when he was even younger than that. He would know. He’d probably considered that possibility all along.
“I can’t talk about it.” That was confirmation and it wasn’t.
Stefano swore, a long tirade of Italian. He kept his voice low, vicious, and Ricco heard the promise of retaliation there.
He shook his head. “Just let it go.”
“Let it go?” Stefano looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “They threaten my brother, a fellow rider, and you want me to let it go. We have a council —”
“Don’t. I mean it, Stefano. Let it go. There are reasons.”
“There are never reasons for one family of riders to threaten another family.”
“It was a long time ago. I’m asking you to let it go.” He didn’t allow desperation to show on his face, no matter that he was feeling it. Stefano would go to war in a heartbeat over him, but there was no way to know how many families in Japan would unite against them. Ricco wasn’t willing to risk his brothers, sister, or cousins.
He’d remained silent for years. They’d been long, hard years of always looking over his shoulder and training harder than ever. Often, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d go to one of his brothers’ homes and watch over them, paranoid something might happen to them. After several years had gone by, he was certain they were safe, and he didn’t want Stefano to stir up trouble.
“I think finding a partner for your art is a positive move, Ricco.” Stefano switched subjects again. “Looking for a woman to be your partner when you know you’ll have to walk away later is something else altogether.”
Ricco already knew that, but he was losing too much of himself. Going too wild in a desperate attempt to feel something. Anything. He was already too far gone and didn’t know if there was anyone who could bring him back. He’d deliberately separated himself from his family, spending less time in public with them and more time racing or partying in the hopes that others would think he didn’t care about them. He must have done a good job for Stefano to ask him if the family mattered to him.
Ricco dropped his hand to the door, needing to escape. Stefano shifted in his seat as if he might follow him. “I need to lie down,” he said, knowing his brother would hear the ring of truth. He did need a bed and fast or he was going to topple right over.
Stefano subsided. “Angelina Laconi is going to come check on you, and don’t give me any trouble over it. She’s a nurse.”
“She makes eyes at me.” Now she’d have excuses to touch him. Life sucked. He wasn’t going to get out of having a nurse drop by, he could tell by Stefano’s expression.
“Live with it. Emmanuelle made certain your fridge was stocked and Francesca made several meals for you. They’re in the freezer. One’s in the fridge.”
“Please thank them for me.” Ricco shoved open the door and forced his legs to work. It wasn’t easy, but he had discipline in abundance, a trait every rider needed. He was very, very aware of Stefano’s eyes on him as he made his way up to the door.
“Francesca.” Ricco bent his head to brush a kiss along his sister-in-law’s cheek. The weeks of healing and physical therapy had helped. Pain didn’t crash through him every time he took a step, and he’d begun training again, although Stefano watched him closely. His older brother was still unaware of the training hall Ricco had installed in his home a few years earlier. Most gatherings were in Stefano’s penthouse in the Ferraro Hotel.
“Ricco.” Francesca flashed her amused smile, the one that mocked him a little for his greeting.
He rarely said hello or good-bye. He said her name, and she retaliated by saying his. He loved that about her. He loved everything about her, mainly that she loved his brother more than anything or anyone.
He’d never learned the art of relaxing. He could play his part out in public, but at home, with his brothers and sister, he had always been the one to pace around, help Taviano, his youngest brother, in the kitchen, or find his way to the training room and work out while the others conversed. Since the accident, he’d made a few attempts at being better.
“Smells good.”
“I hope it tastes good. I’ve been working with a few new recipes for the artichoke sauce you said you liked and I think I’ve got it for you now. I’m serving homemade pasta with artichoke sauce, zucchini flan, guinea fowl and stuffed flowers fried. Oh, and for dessert, tiramisu.”
“Nice. I’ve never had anything you’ve ever cooked that I didn’t like.” It was the truth. He wasn’t into flattery, but Francesca was truly the nicest woman he’d ever met. She loved and accepted them all right along with her demanding husband. “Where’s the boss?”
She laughed. “He only thinks he’s the boss. I still have my job at the deli, don’t I? You know how much he hates me working.”
“Here’s a little news flash for you, honey,” Ricco said. “We all hate you working. We’ve got enemies.”
“I don’t.”
They’d taken care of her enemy. Permanently. “They can get to us through you,” he pointed out. It was an old argument and one he was certain Stefano had tried many times. Francesca might be the sweetest woman he knew, but she was no pushover.
The fact that Francesca still had her job surprised him. He couldn’t imagine his oldest brother allowing his woman to put herself in danger, and Stefano had no trouble bossing all his siblings around.
