Prince of Fools (House of Terriot Book 3)

by Nancy Gideon

  * * * * *

  With Evie in her room doing school lessons via video cam, Amber wandered about their new residence trying to settle in and settle down. The early morning events had shaken her more than she’d let Rico know. It was hard for her to see the posh new setting as anything but a comfortable prison, no matter how much she cared for her attractive jailer.

  Their pathetic little house had also been a jail of sorts, but they lived there on their own terms, careful but coming and going as they pleased. They both had a circle of friends with whom they could visit, and they enjoyed the benefits of the vibrant city, shopping the French Market, eating gelato on the Square and making up stories about the passersby.

  And then the truth she was most ashamed of. She didn’t like to leave her fate in the hands of others. Rico had acted to protect them, and she loved him fiercely for it. But the choice hadn’t been hers. In retrospect, that chafed an independent spirit that had gone for far too long with only herself to depend upon.

  She paced the serene space, moving things, putting up some of her pictures even though they looked shabby and out of place on the pristine walls. For a long time, she just stood in the kitchen with the plastic bowl in her hands, staring at the neatly rubber-banded rolls of cash she’s hoarded in case of emergency.

  This wasn’t that, she told herself. This was reprieve from worry and fear. A vacation from stress and hypervigilance. A chance to indulge in all that being with Rico Terriot offered. If she thought of it as a temporary reward, she could handle it without letting him know how she felt closed behind these electronic doors. And maybe as days passed, weeks and possibly months went by, she could relax into a life of indulgent leisure and let herself simply enjoy this gilded cage. And maybe her greatest fear, that Rico would grow restless trapped with them in such close proximately, would ease.

  How much fun could it be imprisoned in a limited square footage with a wary mother and pre-teen daughter? For now, he found the experience fulfilling. But would the limitations begin to wear on his good will? How soon before his absences became longer and less-easily explained? How could she protect Evie’s already fully engaged heart? Or her own? After so many years of caution, they’d reluctantly let him into their life. Had that decision been born of desperate loneliness and necessity, or were they ready to embrace all that he offered?

  A buzz and jiggle of the doorknob had her hugging the bowl to her chest in guilty protectiveness as Rico stepped inside. Whatever explanations she’d planned fell away at the look on his face. The bowl wobbled on the countertop as she went to take him in her arms and hold him as tightly as she could, as if her embrace alone could calm all the troubles crowding his expressive brow.

  They stood in the entry for long, silent moments, her hand holding his head to her shoulder, his arms wrapping her up in a tight cocoon of care.

  Finally, she murmured, “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

  His husky laugh broke the tentative mood. “Much better now. How are you?”

  “Liking having you here.”

  “Where’s Evie?”

  “Behind closed doors doing her school work. Why don’t you go out on the balcony? It’s nice out there. I’ll bring you something cold.”

  “That sounds good, but this sounds better.”

  He eased back a few inches, reaching between them to cup her chin and tip it so her lips were available. His kiss lingered, slow, searching out every nuance of her affection for him as if he’d been starving for it. Then, with a heavy sigh, he stepped away to head for the glass doors.

  Amber frowned at his mood and at his hesitating gait. Was he upset? Hurt? Unhappy? Or simply tired? She didn’t know him well enough to guess, so she’d respond as if all were the case.

  The patio furniture was of higher quality than anything she’d ever had in her own home. Bright-green cushions filled the heavy wicker sectional. Rico sprawled in the corner, his arms riding the top of the cushions, his bare feet, crossed at the ankles, resting on the large glass-topped coffee table. His eyes were closed. Amber pressed a cold beer into his palm and sat beside him, close but not touching. That wouldn’t do for him. He switched the bottle to his other hand so the curl of his arm could fit her against his side. She rested her head between chest and shoulder and waited for him to get to what was on his mind. He took a long drink.

  “Amber, I’m trying so hard not to make any mistakes.”

  “What kind of mistakes?” She purposefully kept a note of caution from creeping into her tone.

  “In what I’m doing here, for my clan, for my guys, for you and Evie. I rush into things I shouldn’t.”

  Did he mean their situation? “What kind of things?”

  “Was I out of line moving you in here? Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No. Are you?”

  A bitter laugh. “I never have time for them. Figured you’d get sick of me first, and cut and run. Everyone does.”

  “No. That’s not going to happen.”

  “Hell, Amber, I know what I am. I’m a screw-up. The one no one trusts with anything important. I’m not a smart guy. Smart ass, yeah, but not particularly clever.”

  “I don’t need a smart guy. I need a good man, and you’re a good, good man.”

  A pause, then he muttered, “Not so good. I’m sorry.”

  Alarm prickled through her system, but she kept her voice quiet and calm. “What did you do, Frederick?”

  “I tried to buy your brother off, pay all his debts, so he’d have no reason to stay and be a danger to you and Evie.” Another hesitation. “Or to me and my relationship with you. It was a cowardly and punk thing to do.”

  “Did it work?”

  “No. I threatened to kill him, but that didn’t make much of an impression, either. I probably would have, too, but . . .”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you and Evie. He’s your family no matter what else he is, and I don’t have a right to interfere.”

  That confession only made her love him more. “You were thinking of us.”

  “I was thinking of me, and how letting you go with him would crush me. See? Not such a good, noble guy.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Then why don’t you trust me?”

  “I do,” she started to protest.

  And then she saw the very neat trap he’d led her into. Not a smart guy, her ass. She should have been angry, but his subtle manipulation impressed her with the lengths he’d go to to keep her safe . . . even at the risk of losing her at this very pivotal moment.

  “What are you running from?”

  She took a deep breath. And trusted him.

  “My brother is what our father made of him. Weak, deceitful, greedy, always looking for a shortcut to get ahead. But Augie was never mean, never a vicious bully. We grew up listening to our parents fight about everything. She’d throw things at him—our dishes, shoes, knives—but he threw punches. And when he did, she gave him whatever he wanted. Except once.”

  “When it came to you,” he filled in for her.

  She shivered, as if the breeze had suddenly taken an artic turn, and pulled away when he tried to hold her closer. The distance bothered him, but he allowed it so she’d continue, realizing he needed comforting more than she did. She needed to purge that darkness if she was ever to put it behind her.

  “You know the kind of place I grew up, where men go to drink, gamble and whore, and anything else they desire. Our mom tried to keep us away from all that, but by the time we were teens, Augie was watering drinks and loading dice, and I was waiting tables dressed like someone twice my age, hiding behind black, spiky hair and heavy Goth-looking makeup so guys wouldn’t mess with me. But I was never allowed upstairs, ever, no matter what kind of deal they offered. It wasn’t so bad. I’d get groped but defended myself with a smile and a laugh. And I learned to work the bar. Most guys treated me decently because I was off-limits, but that didn’t matter to one of them.”

  She
stopped, oration growing rough. Rico wanted to hold her so badly but only offered his beer, and she drank deeply before beginning again.

  “He was always after me—my dad’s business partner—sneaking a feel, standing too close, making dirty suggestions. Dad told me to laugh it off, but Mom and I didn’t think it was funny. And then he trapped me in the hallway one night, and I knew how it felt to be helpless and afraid because of my sex. Nothing happened. Augie interrupted, apologizing all up and down.”

  Saving his sister, at least, for the moment.

  “But he was a man of power and money and influence who could give Dad everything his greedy heart desired. The biggest thing of all was ownership of the club to run as he saw fit. Our parents argued over it, and that night Mom was gone, Augie was sent out on a run, and I was called upstairs. Life or death, Dad said and looked scared enough for it to be true. And then there was just him and me in a locked room.”

  “Amber, you don’t have to say any more.”

  “I need to tell it, to own it, so I can finally put it behind me.”

  She let him curl his arm about her, but merely rested against him while she spoke of her fright at finding herself alone with the much bigger, stronger man. Of his powerful punches when she resisted, so like those her father gave her mother that she wasn’t even surprised. What she was was fifteen and, despite where she worked, her mother had isolated her from the upstairs doings. She had no idea what to prepare for when thrown down on the bed face-first, nose bleeding, eye swelling and suddenly horribly violated, unable to struggle out from under that greater weight.

  “I started screaming for my mother. To shut me up, he had to climb off, and when he did, I grabbed one of my shoes off the floor, and hit him with it as hard as I could. It had a four- inch spike heel that went right through his pride and joy.”

  Rico sucked a breath, twinging instinctively. “You nailed him in the dick?”

  “No,” she replied, tone cold and far removed. “His family jewels. Both of them. So, he’d think twice before letting them get the best of him again. I went out in handcuffs. He had someone sneak him out a back door to an emergency room. I swore right then I would never, ever be naïve and helpless again, and then . . .”

  “Then what?”

  “You show up, and turn me inside out.”

  “I would never hurt you,” he cried, mistaking her meaning.

  She turned within the circle of his arm, looking up into his anguished eyes. “I know. You’re the kindest, most gentle man I know, and I had no defense against you. You’re everything I’d given up hoping I’d ever find. I didn’t know until then that I’d been punishing Evangeline for my fears, keeping her from having any kind of normal life.”

  “No,” he argued firmly. “You’re a wonderful, protective mother, and I dare anyone to say you’re not.”

  “Because you understand. Maybe you’re the only one who ever could because we have the same scars. I didn’t understand my pain until I saw yours.”

  He couldn’t find his voice for a long minute then finally asked, “Where are your folks now?”

  “That was the last time I saw my mom. I guess she figured she’d taken all she could, and I don’t blame her, I really don’t. My dad got ownership of the club when I refused to testify. I’d hoped it would make things better, but they just got worse. I had Evie, my one good thing, and worked around her schedule. We were both kids, learning from each other the best we could.”

  She phrased it so he would think her rapist was the father. He didn’t tell her he knew different. A topic for another time.

  “Then Dad ran out of money and decided to blackmail his old partner. Dad threatened to see I lost Evie if I didn’t go along with it. He told me I was being ungrateful after all he’d done for me. Ungrateful! We argued. Augie got between us. Evie was shrieking, and Dad thought one good shake would shut her up. It broke her arm. Augie had a gun and held him off while I grabbed Evie up and ran. I didn’t stop running until Jacques LaRoche found the two of us. He took her to the hospital, gave me a job and a place to stay until I could handle things myself. He was the sec—the first decent man I’d ever known.”

  Alain Babineau had been the first. “What happened to your Dad?”

  “I don’t know. He’s gone. That’s all that matters to me.” She took a shaky breath. “That’s my sad story. Have I scared you off?”

  She asked that frailly, trying to hide her fear behind a faint smile, as if there was the slightest chance it might happen.

  “Sorry. You’re stuck with me. I happen to think Evie’s the luckiest kid in the world. And I’m the luckiest guy.”

  The sound of a soft sob turned their attention to the patio door where Evie stood, tears in her eyes. Amber gasped in horror, crying, “Baby, you weren’t supposed to hear that.”

  The girl came to fling her arms about them both, hugging tight, uniting them as three against come what may.

  Chapter 21

  A family night out.

  Rico’s suggestion changed the mood from one of awkward avoidance to cautious anticipation.

  “C’mon. It’ll be fun,” he urged. “I’ll get a rental, and we can be up in Baton Rouge in no time.”

  He’d overheard about the event from the family sitting at the table behind him where he’d had lunch. No booze, no bands, no roughhousing—it didn’t sound like anything that would appeal to the Rico Terriot who’d come to New Orleans to let the good times roll, but it was infinitely attractive to the guardian of a mother and child drowning in silent misery.

  Wearing hats, hoods and sunglasses to avoid the unlikely chance of being recognized, the trio worked their way through the crowded outdoor festival that was filled with food, vendors and game booths. Surrounded by traditional music and laughter, a flush of happiness bloomed on both his ladies’ faces as they clung to his arms so as not to get separated. The simple pleasure of it filled in the emptiness of an excluded past where Rico had watched from the outside as others embraced the joy of family. He’d guessed, but had no true idea how that basic pleasure could expand, pushing out memories of loneliness, resentment and bottomless sorrow, filling those dark, hollow spaces with lightness and . . . love. He was crazy in love with them, with the fullness they’d brought into his life.

  Stuffed with junk food, laden with silly purchases, feet aching but hearts full, they climbed into the chauffeur-driven ride that would return them to their tower fortress. A contented female within the curl of each arm, Rico closed his eyes and tried to see a way free of their troubles, a path that would lead to safety and a future for the three of them. The job he had to do was quickly giving ground to the feelings these two stirred inside him. There had to be a way to satisfy both.

  With a weary but smiling Evie tucked in, her arms about a fat, grouchy-looking black and purple stuffed cat she’d insisted he win for her at one of the charity booths, drifting to sleep before he’d even closed the door, Rico turned into Amber’s waiting kiss. When he finally lifted away, he was confused by the sight of tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything’s right. For the first time, ever. Thank you for this, Frederick. I’ve never seen her so happy, so . . . normal.”

  “It can be like this, Amber. It can be like this for the rest of her life and yours. I want that for both of you.”

  “And you? What do you want for you?”

  “This. This night. This moment. I want this forever, and I’m so afraid of losing it, of losing you.”

  She put her palms to his embarrassingly wet cheeks, and he covered them with his own, fearing the moment and the treasured pair would slip away even as he held tight. Even as she promised, “You won’t.”

  But the fear lingered, a dark, seeping cold covering the light and warmth of that evening. He tried to push it away as they sipped too much wine, cuddling on the balcony to watch ships move along the lazy Mississippi the way her hand travelled down his chest and flat belly to the stirring at his inseam. Determined
fingers, teasing his zipper down, slipping in against the heat of his body to coax and encourage.

  His breathing deepened, curls of desire rising so quick and fierce he had to draw her hand away or explode right there under the stars. Smiling, she led him back to their bedroom where she stripped off their clothes, telling him as they moved together on that big bed, with her words, her kisses, her sighs and soft encouraging cries that he had nothing to fear. But his panic wouldn’t be stilled.

  The rising thunder of his heartbeats, the fierce flood of urgent need rushing through his body and brain in a huge engulfing wave carried his answer. The only way to hold onto forever was as simple and enormous as the instincts firing his blood. Instincts both primal and protective.

  Keep her close. Keep her safe. Make her yours!

  He heard nothing else over the pulse banging in his ears. That same primitive rhythm throbbed painfully below as he stroked her soft, flushed skin with his hands, tasted it with his tongue, rubbed his face between her breasts while that ancient call intensified. Her unique scent tantalized. Her restless moans beckoned. She called to him, a siren’s song.

  “Rico, I need you.”

  Yes. Now. Take her now!

  He grasped her hips, abrupt in his urgency, flipping her onto her belly, gripping her thighs, lifting, trying to position her to make his claim. Her movements increased in fervor, that lush bottom squirming against him, bringing the white-hot fever to a molten roil.

  Lost to mating madness, he didn’t realize her rocking movements weren’t those of enticement until her knuckles caught him with a solid rap to the nose, momentarily blinding his eyes and curtailing his lusts as he dropped back onto his heels. She took advantage of his surprise to wriggle free. Rolling off the bed, she dashed into the bathroom with a slam of the door. That click finally cut through his raging hunger.

  "Amber?" Wiping away the small trickle of blood, he wobbled to the door, still shaky with the adrenaline pumping through his system. He tried the knob. Finding it locked spiked his out-of-control emotions higher. "Amber, open the door." He could hear her panting rapidly only inches away, and that low, possessive growl started up again. "Amber, let me in."