Prince of Fools (House of Terriot Book 3)

by Nancy Gideon

  Chapter 17

  He pushed past her to enter the kitchen, glare settling on the two coffee cups, as he growled, “I’ve been out there half the night waiting for him to leave.”

  “He stayed on the couch,” she heard herself saying, as if she owed Gus an explanation.

  “He can’t stay here. He can’t be here. You know why!”

  “Who I decide to see is none of your business.”

  He turned on her so swiftly, his fury-mottled features so like their father’s, Amber took a stumbling step back.

  Seizing her upper arms, he gave her a shake. “I am the head of this family, and he’s a danger to it. You need to distance yourself and Evie from Terriot. Now!"

  As if finally recognizing the pinched look in her face from the shared misery of their childhood, he quickly released her, anger easing to a sharp-edge panic.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ammy, but understand what’s at stake here. We’re in danger.”

  Auguste's terse tone gripped her chest like a vise. "What do mean? Is this about the man who was killed?"

  Immediately, the fearsome visage fell, and he was once again her repentant brother. When he hung his head, she seized him by the shirt front for a savage shaking to scatter her own fear as well as instill some of her own in him, demanding, "What have you done?"

  He wouldn't meet her anxious gaze, eyes downcast, his shoulders hunched. "They were going to kill me, Am. I owed them so much money. I told them I didn't know where you or Dad were. I had to give them something. I had to, or they would have done me right then and there. I had no choice. It was supposed to be Savoie, not Terriot."

  So much worse than she’d ever imagined, even knowing her brother.

  "You lied to me!" She slapped the side of his bowed head, once, twice, again even harder as long suppressed temper escaped her control. "I let you come into my home, and you lied to my face! An innocent man died!"

  And just as easily, Rico could have been added to that toll.

  The fact that Gus didn't argue earned no sympathy. After listening to his choking sniffles, she shook him like a terrier with a rat. "What else did you promise them? What value did they put on your pathetic life?"

  "I'm just eyes and ears. That's all. Can I sit down?"

  She kicked out a kitchen chair and stormed about the small space while he sank onto a seat as unyielding as her mood, cowering like a whipped dog. Trying to squirm his way into her forgiveness. She'd waste no pity on him. Sympathy and affection had rendered her vulnerable to his selfish acts all their lives, letting him make her feel responsible for saving him from each increasingly dangerous folly. But he was no longer a child, and she had one of her own to protect. That was the bottom line she drew when able to face him with a modicum of calm. She wouldn't consider the possible consequences until she got the whole truth. If her brother was capable of telling it.

  "Start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out thinking I'll go easy. I'm already believing the worst."

  He nodded then asked faintly, "Can I have something to drink?"

  That he'd expect hospitality almost pushed her past her vow not to strangle him. Wordlessly, she grabbed one of the last two sodas out of the 12-pack Rico had brought over and smacked it down on the tabletop with a firm, "Talk."

  Nothing in his story surprised her. Listening to her twin admit to such criminal stupidity dulled her heart to all but sadness and resignation.

  Apparently, she was the least of those he'd stolen from but not the first. Her brother spent a good eight months pretending to be an envoy for their father, working deals, taking payments for services that would never be rendered, until finally that inevitable Caesar came with hand outstretched to collect his due. He'd run, as far and as fast as he could on the money he'd stolen from her, traveling up the river into Mississippi, cashing in on their father's list of acquaintances until he wore out his welcome on both the docks and the riverboat gambling circuit, moving on, always a step ahead of discovery for the fraud he was.

  His luck roller-coastered for the next few years, often as not ending with him skipping out with whatever he could carry just ahead of eviction. Finally, at an all-time low, he got waxing sentimental about the family he'd wronged and headed back to Louisiana, only to be greeted at the Port of New Orleans by the ghosts of bad deeds past.

  Warming up to his story like all good yarn spinners, Auguste sipped from his drink and searched for sympathy in his sister's stony expression, relaying dramatically, "I thought I was done for. They beat me until I hoped they'd kill me. I still have the scars."

  When he reached for the hem of his sweater, Amber waved him off with a fierce, "I don't want to see them."

  Pouting slightly, he sighed. "Lucky for me, I'd overheard some talk at one of the dock dives . . . not the one you work in," he quickly amended, earning her scowl. "It wasn't much, but enough to convince them that I could be of use as a stranger who could fit in with the crew here and keep an ear open for information. Every bit I could bring them took a bite outta my marker."

  Doing essentially the same thing Rico was, except for purely self-preserving motives.

  "So," she drawled, "you hid right under my nose, pedaling your schemes to save your hide."

  "I didn't tell them anything about you. That's the first thing they asked when they found out who I was. Told them you'd moved on, and I didn't know where, that there was bad blood between us because of our daddy, so we didn't keep in touch."

  "Well, at least that wasn't a lie."

  "I'd never do anything to hurt you and Evie."

  She didn't dignify that with a response. "So, you're making a tidy living as a rat. Daddy would have approved. What does this have to do with Rico?" His expression closed, putting Amber on guard. "You tell me everything, Augie, or I'll go to him and tell him who you're really working for."

  "You'd do that?" Disbelief quickly turned to outrage. "You turn on your own family . . . for him?"

  A huge laugh. "Oh, please." Met with his flat glare, she continued. "Rico and Colin Terriot are my friends. They're good, honest men, working to better our situation here against our enemies."

  "Right," he mocked. "Amber, they are our enemies! Them and their brothers and their kind. They're going to weaken our boundaries, gain our trust then swoop down and slaughter us all in our sleep. They're animals. They have no loyalty except to their own." His eyes narrowed. "You're sleeping with him. Tell me you're not!"

  "I'm a big girl, Auguste, and you are not my daddy."

  "Is he sleeping here in your bed? With Evie in the next room?"

  "No! Of course not. It’s not like that. Evie's crazy about him." A pause, then since she'd demanded truth, she gave it. "So am I."

  "And when he finishes here? Is he going to take you home and make you his honest to God princess in front of all his family?” His sarcasm wounded. “Would they welcome you with open arms, or direct you to the glassware in the kitchen?"

  "We haven't discussed it," she bit out, saying nothing more because he wasn't saying anything she hadn't wondered herself."

  And would this good man, this prince of a fellow, stick around knowing who and what you are? Knowing where Evie comes from?"

  She stood pale and trembling with rage, with devastation. The prince and his Cinderella barmaid. No, it wouldn't end well for her and Evie. But she’d always known that deep down.

  He’d saved the best for last, that killing blow. "Do you think I'm the only one watching where he goes? Who he sees? Does that trail keep leading here to your door? Can you afford to have these people asking questions about his wrong-side-of-the-Quarter squeeze? And if they find out who you are, you think he'd risk his royal ass to save you from what they have in mind?"

  She paced a tight circle in her little kitchen, panic surging, a dark, sickening tide over what she’d never considered, that Rico might bring disaster to her door. That question went a step farther as she confronted her brother. "Are they watching you, too? I want you to leav
e my house and not come back. Do you hear me? This is my life, Auguste! And you're destroying it all over again. I don't want to see you or talk to you or hear from you . . . ever!"

  Seeing his argument backfire, he sputtered, "But Evie--"

  "Evie doesn't know you. And I don't ever want her to learn what you've become. Stay away from us. You ruin everything you touch. Get out!"

  "I was just trying to protect you, Ammy. You don't know men like them and what they want."

  A harsh laugh. "Oh, I think I learned all about men like that at dear Daddy's side. You're not going to bring that ugliness back into my life. Don't come back. You're as dead and gone to me as he is."

  Teary-eyed, angry but frustratingly without any argument, her brother grabbed up his coat and was out the door.

  Amber stood motionless in the kitchen, paralyzed by grief and fear and loss.

  It was over. The dream, the desire, the hopes that they'd become more. Rico Terriot was a luxury she couldn't afford. She'd been kidding herself, lost in the fantasy that they'd ever become more than convenient lovers. He wasn't staying in New Orleans, and there wasn't the slightest chance he ever intended to take her—them—with him when he returned to his mountain. Cale’s subtle rudeness and the drama with Mia Guedry had taught her that. Terriots weren't accepting of those not of their clan.

  Rico hadn't gone out of his way to seduce her, quite the other way around. She'd taken advantage of his broken heart, made herself available then invaluable, as his friend, as his pseudo-family, as his willing bedmate. He'd probably never considered taking their relationship beyond the sheets and certainly not beyond the perimeter of the Quarter. It was all a blissful interlude to him before being called back to his real life. Leaving her and Evie to face the ugliness of their own.

  She stood panting in the center of her kitchen, her sense of security torn away by a single, paralyzing fact. They were still looking. How long before they found her? If they already knew her location, wouldn’t they have been at her door instead of Auguste? The call on Evie’s phone . . . Was it the first of many escalating threats warning her to keep her mouth shut . . . or else? Was she putting Rico in greater danger by mere association?

  They’d have to leave New Orleans. Every second from now on was borrowed time. She couldn’t just run, not with a child to consider. The time to plan for a quick escape started now, this minute, ticking down toward what could be their last.

  From now until she went into work, she’d go over her savings, quietly see how much she could get for the house, and start creating a believable lie for leaving everyone she loved behind in a hurry. Then they’d disappear, both her and Evangeline. Or they’d be as good as dead.

  The thought again flashed through heart and mind to go to Rico. He’d get them out of the city if she asked.

  No. She couldn’t involve him, not while he was within reach of those who meant her harm. He was wrapped up in his own intrigues, and who knew if one spilled over into the other. But if she ran without explanation, he’d follow. She knew he would. So, she’d have to make sure he wouldn’t want to.

  Survivor’s instincts that had kept her alive and Evie safe kicked into place, setting in motion the pattern of cool, sharp, unemotional thought that would carry them away from harm and all they’d ever desired.

  * * * * *

  Rico spent a restless day waiting to hear something, anything from Savoie. He wasn’t a patient guy. Inactivity didn’t set well with him. To distract himself, he accompanied his group on a brutal run along a bayou trail the New Orleans leader had suggested. The dangerous twists and turns left no time for worries about what he might discover and how he’d deal with it when he did. Nothing good, that’s for sure. Amber James’s demons were as dark and terrible as any that stalked his own family.He had time for a quick shower that did little to ease the aches of body or mind then raced to pick up Evie at Savoie’s riverfront business fortress. No sign of or word from the man himself. As Evie’s smile blossomed when she spotted him, everything inside him went schmaltzy. Was he ready for this, the most important job he’d ever assume? She settled into his front seat, reaching for his sunglasses even though there was no reason for them on the overcast day. They shared a quick grin. Oh, yeah. More than ready. He couldn’t wait.

  As he pulled away, Rico did a careful scan of the surroundings, attuned to any potential threat. Except the one awaiting him.

  The sound of his engine brought Amber to the door of her little home. An unexpected surprise, filling him with a sizzle of anticipation. Not for sex, as would be the case with any previous female . . . well, yes, sex would be great, but that wasn’t on the table while a twelve-year-old was sitting at it . . . but just for conversation. For the chance to touch her hand and maybe steal a kiss, to sit close and listen to her talk about her day and to tell her about his own. An abbreviated version of it, anyway. He winced, not enjoying hiding things from her.

  Evie bolted from the car, pausing for a brief hug from her mom before racing to hit the homework in hopes of earning Rico’s promise of a movie in a real theater. Her excitement was almost as gratifying as his own. He’d been fantasizing about necking in the dark with Amber since he’d brought up the possible excursion, and was smiling as he approached where she stood waiting at the door. His steps faltered. Something was off about her. Nothing he could pinpoint, but alarm tightened his muscles and quivered over his skin as that warning settled cold and heavy in his gut.

  “Hey,” he ventured, coming to a stop just short of her front porch when she didn’t move to invite him in. “Get home early?”

  “No. I took the day off.”

  There was no particular tone to that simple phrase, but Rico backed up a step, now wary as well as worried. “Oh?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” But she didn’t move aside to let him in.

  “There’s no easy way to say this.”

  His stomach dropped. “So, just say it.”

  "It’s good-bye, Frederick."

  He stood stunned, a flicker of uncertainly passing like a cloud across his expression. "What?"

  "I've enjoyed spending time with you, but it's not fair to Evie to have . . . certain expectations. It's probably best to just end things now."

  "End things?" His brows lowered in confusion. What the hell? He couldn’t be hearing her right.

  That kind, patient voice continued. "She doesn't understand, and I don't want to see her hurt. It'll be difficult enough for her as it is."

  "What are you talking about, Amber? I don't understand.” But he was terrified he did and prayed he was wrong. “Are you telling me to get lost?" His jagged little laugh died a terrible death as he looked into her somber eyes and saw the truth. His voice broke low. "What did I do?"

  She took his big hands up in hers, squeezing gently. "Nothing. It's not your fault. You can't help who you are and who we are."

  "What does that have to do with anything?" he argued, a bite of fear roughening his words. "You're kicking me to the curb, and that's all you're giving me? Just ‘See ya later, it's been fun’? No explanation? I must have done something. Let me make it up to you for whatever I did."

  She winced as his fingers crushed hers unintentionally. He released her, growing more agitated as her calm, patient manner held firm.

  "She likes you, Frederick. She looks up to you as a stand-in for something she's never had. I should have said something sooner, but . . . but I enjoyed seeing her so happy. The both of us have enjoyed being with you," she amended softly. "But I can't let her pretend it's going to last. I can't see her get hurt that way."

  "She—I thought we—"

  "She hoped things were going to be permanent, but that's not going to happen. I shouldn't have let it go on so long, but I guess I started pretending, too." She took a step back, her small, apologetic smile hitting as hard as a right cross. "It's better you go now. I'll break it to her gently, explain that you got busy . . ."

  "You don't want to see m
e anymore." Devastation cramped his expression.

  “Thank you for being so kind and generous to us. We won’t forget that. Not ever. But you can’t be a part of our lives. They just don’t fit together.”

  Amber knew he finally believed her when he deflected all his shock and dismay with a shrug and a glib, "Okay. All you had to do was say so."

  "It's better this way." She reached out for him, but he jumped back quickly as if evading a swift kick.

  "Sure." He ducked away, striding at the edge of a run away from her and all the hopes she'd foolishly held. He didn't look back as he slammed the door and spun out of the drive in that car the color of her daughter’s eyes.

  Amber closed the door, leaning against it as she struggled for control.

  "Mom? Did Rico leave already?"

  She sucked a strengthening breath and turned with a smile. "He got a call. He couldn’t stay. He wanted me to tell you we wouldn't be seeing much of him for a while. He's got things to do for his family."

  "Oh." Her expression fell for a moment, but she recovered more quickly than her mother ever would. "Well, he's a prince! He's important to them, and they count on him."

  "Yes, they do."

  A heavy sigh. "I hope he's not gone long."

  "We'll see, baby. I’m going to take a shower then maybe we’ll order pizza.”

  As she stood under the weak spray, Amber wept where she couldn’t be heard.

  * * * * *

  Rico drove to a deserted parking lot by the waterfront, unsure how he’d made it safely when he could barely see through the glittery sheen of anguish. He stumbled out of his shiny new car, falling to hands and knees, cutting both on sharp gravel, but staying down because he had no strength to rise again. He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold in the raw howls wading up into his throat, pressing painfully for release. Dropping onto his rump, he rocked silently while wetness scored his cheeks.

  After a time, numbed to the brutal agony clutching his chest, he drew a small breath that tore like broken glass, then scoured his face with his palms. He inhaled again, and it wasn’t quite so bad.