by Nancy Gideon
Chapter 18
“Do we know anyone who drives a fairytale-princess-blue convertible?”
Mia shot a puzzled look at her mate who stood looking out the front window where rain swept down the sidewalk. “No. Why?”
“Because there’s one parked out front with the top down and probably holding enough water to stock a trout pond.” Frowning, Colin crossed to the door to their private patio and opened it cautiously. “Oh, hell. Get some towels. We got company.”
Hunching his shoulders against the downpour, he darted across slippery pavers to where his brother had made it as far as his patio set and sprawled there like an unstrung marionette. When Colin dragged a loose arm about his shoulders and tugged, an empty bottle of Jack tumbled free, breaking on the stones. He dragged the insensible figure inside, grumbling with every step, especially at the sound of Mia’s dismay.
“Rico! Is he hurt?”
“He’ll be hurting when he comes around. Help me dump his dumb ass on the couch.”
He dropped like a load of wet clothes, eyes never opening as Colin flung arms and legs up onto the cushions. His more tenderhearted mate put a hand to the pale cheek, exclaiming, “He’s freezing, Colin.”
“He’s drunk is what he is. Put on some coffee. If he ruins that sofa, he’s gonna buy me a new one. Damn fool’s lucky he didn’t drown.”
Knowing the crossness covered his worry, Mia paid Colin no mind as she gently slipped off waterlogged boots and coat, whispering, “What’s got you in such a state?”
Bloodshot eyes blinked open. “Hey!” A sloppy smile. “I didn’t know you were coming over for a visit.”
“You’re in our house, idiot,” his brother growled, “and you’re making a mess of it. You left the top down on your girly car. Interior’s probably ruined.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, rolling his head away from them. “Don’t need it anymore anyway.”
Mia and Colin exchanged looks. She prodded the still-intoxicated Terriot. “Sit up. Let’s get these wet things off you.”
He let them tug him upright without offering any help, slurring, “You’re just trying to get me naked again.”
“And you’re trying to get yourself killed,” Colin answered.
He shucked off the soaked shirt and tee, handing them to Mia before wrapping the blanket from the foot of the couch about shaking shoulders. Pants, briefs and socks followed and were handed off with a gruff, “Toss these in the dryer.”
Toting the wet bundle to their laundry closet, Mia heard the brothers’ abbreviated conversation.
“I should go home.” Rico didn’t mean his apartment. He meant Tahoe.
“I need you here.”
“I’m good for nothing, Col.”
“You want some whine with that Jack you’ve already guzzled?”
“Jack is what I got. I don’t know what went wrong.”
“You’ll be okay.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Yeah, you will. You’ll figure it out.”
“It hurts so bad.”
“I know. You’ll survive.”
With dryer banging, Mia put the coffee on then looked back to where her mate knelt, clasping the back of the bowed head butted against his chest as Rico muttered, “I don’t know if I want to.”
“Sure, you do, Red. Just to be a continual pain in my ass.” A hard squeeze followed by a rough, “Tough it out. C’mon. We got your back.”
A heavy sigh then Rico pushed away, knuckling his eyes as he mumbled, “I could really use that coffee.”
“You could really use a shower. You’re gonna be okay.”
Rico’s shoulders rose and fell as he intoned, “Yeah, sure.”
“Why don’t you crash here for a while?”
He sat up straighter, fatigue replaced by a hardened new maturity. “Can’t. Got things to do. Once I get some fuel for the road . . . and a ride.”
Colin pressed his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”
* * * * *
He strode to the front of the room in rumpled clothes, smelling like a floral dryer sheet. Something in the set of his face brought conversation to a halt. His tone slashed like a blade.
“Now, you know what I’m made of. Time to see how you compare. Get outside. Don’t bother to get your coats and umbrellas. You won’t need ’em.”
The curious and slightly wary group followed his fierce stride down to the edge of the waterfront where he pointed to the pilings that edged a twenty-foot drop to water. “Hop up. Space yourselves and face me.”
They exchanged uncertain looks as wind gusted across the river in hard shoves, driving needle-sharp rain. Auguste approached him to voice their concerns, his tentative words met with a hurricane-force fury.
“Step away from me, or I will kill you. Do it now.”
One by one, they climbed up on the posts, backs to the surging water, seeking a precarious balance, eyes on the harsh figure standing motionlessly before them.
“You want my respect? Earn it.”
While his men struggled, Rico returned briefly to the warehouse, steeling himself against a pang of conscience before rifling through his team’s belongings. Until he came up with a girl’s pink-and-white cellphone in the inner pocket of a coat. The phone stolen from Evie.
Amber’s terrorizing stalker was her own brother.
Gus had made the call. Why? To undercut his sister’s sense of safety? In hopes of playing hero? To send her running from New Orleans, or just from him?
For a long moment, Rico stood paralyzed by fury, raw and red hot. Then, because he’d promised his brother to practice restraint in case Auguste’s actions held a darker motive, he returned the phone to where he’d found it so Gus would think his secret safe.
* * * * *
Three days and longer nights and no sign of or word from her Terriot prince. Not her prince. Amber had to stop thinking of him that way.
Evangeline didn't mention him and had no further questions. She dutifully did her homework, tidied up around the house and mostly kept to herself. A brave front shared by her mother.
Then his laugh rose above the rock music pounding down from the overhead speakers, the sound racing along her nervous system like an electric shock, pulling her glance toward the back door as Rico trotted down the steps, surrounded by his new Patrol best buds. No quick look toward where he knew she’d be as they went to find a seat.
"Frannie, could you get that table?" she called down the bar. "I've got to get something out of the back."
The blonde head turned her way, but she was already dodging into the storeroom to stand in complete darkness, gulping for breath as if all air had been sucked out of her life.
She'd known she'd see him again, that their paths would cross in a public, if not private, place. What better time to practice her new resolve than here in the busy, noisy bar. As long as he didn't come up to her. She couldn't guarantee her will would hold if she had to look into his eyes.
She couldn't cower forever. She'd insisted on the terms. To fall apart the first time they saw one another would be the worst kind of example for her daughter. For Evangeline, she'd be strong for, God help her, she found no strength within her own crushed soul.
Toting a jar of olives and a bag of limes, Amber returned to the counter. She kept her head down, quickly restocked with fresh slices until aware that Fran stood at her elbow.
"Your boyfriend's here."
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Oh?" Dark brows rose to dyed hairline, as if she couldn't believe her good fortune. "Then you don't mind if I try my luck?"
"That's between you and him."
Fran gave her a long, cautious look. "I wouldn't have let something like that get away."
"I never had him."
Taking her at her word, the waitress swivel-hipped her way to the table and executed a perfect boob-in-the-ear bend over to clear the table then acted all flustered when the Terriot prince turned in surprise to find his face buried up t
o the ears. As raucous laughter erupted, Amber went back to her slicing, taking extra time to keep trembling fingers intact. She felt before she acknowledged Jacques standing beside her. Swiping her eyes as a precaution, she looked up in question.
"You need something, Boss?"
"You need me to knock that fool's head into next weekend?"
A watery smile. "No. I took him off the leash. He's free to do whatever he chooses."
"Well, I don't much like him doing it here right in front of you," the bulky fellow growled.
"I'll get used to it."
He snorted. "Some things you don’t get used to."
He pressed her shoulder gently and walked away without further advice or sympathy, probably guessing that would push her beyond what she could handle.
The night dragged on. She smiled and bantered with those who crowded the bar, never letting her gaze drift out onto the floor. Fran wisely kept busy and kept her distance. The hours passed, and Amber survived them. As she would the next night. And the next.
For Evangeline. Until they could get away.
Finally, Amber’s shift ended. More weary than she could ever remember, she dragged herself to the back door, dreading but grateful for the emptiness awaiting her with Evie staying overnight at the sitter's. A long hot shower, a drink, maybe two, and hopefully a few blissful hours of undisturbed sleep. That's all she could ask for.
The night's chill failed to stir her sluggish mind as she started down the uneven bricks toward the street. She never heard a step, but suddenly he was there, his scent surrounding her like a warm embrace. She stopped, and he bumped up behind her, his firm body both barrier and brace for the rush of emotions shaking through her.
"What did I do?" His voice, so low and broken, brought tears to her eyes. "How can I make it right? There has to be some way."
"There's nothing." She swallowed hard through the words, barely recognizing them as her own. "Please, Frederick, don't make this more difficult for either of us."
His brow bumped the back of her head, uneven breaths scorching her neck. "Then tell me you don't want me. Tell me you don't love me, and I'll leave you alone. You'll never see me again. Tell me, if that's what you really want."
She couldn't force those lies through the tightness in her throat, not with him standing up against her, supplying that heat she'd longed for. As the silence stretched out, his shivery exhale stirred her hair. His hands came up to rub her forearms, a slow, gentle friction.
"Amber, you don't have to carry whatever this is alone. I may not be smart, but I can lift heavy things. Trust me to help you with whatever this is. Please. Please, let me help you."
A sob escaped. "I can't."
"Yes, you can. I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you and Evie. Nothing, nothing will change that. I'm your guy. I will fight for you. I'll protect you. You know I will. If it's something you can't talk about just yet, I'll wait until you can. Just don't push me away."
Her shaking hands covered his, squeezing until they grew numb. "I don't want to hurt you."
"The truth won't hurt me." A gruff little laugh. "Well, it'll sting a bit, but I need to hear it. But if you really want me gone, you tell me now and I'm gone. I'll head home tonight, 'cuz I'm not strong enough to stay here in the same city with you and keep my distance. Tell me what you want. Do I stay or go?"
Rico waited, not daring to breathe, balancing the way he had on that post as a boy, at the end of his endurance with so much at stake. Knowing he'd have to abide by whatever she said, no matter how difficult, no matter who else he had to let down.
Finally, when there wasn't a scrap of air in his lungs, he heard her whisper, "Stay."
His knees weakened. For a long minute, he rested his head on her shoulder, afraid to speak in case she changed her mind. The flutter of her touch against his cheek, her fingers so cold, goaded him into action. He took her work-roughened hands and chafed them between his to restore their warmth as he asked, "Can I take you home?"
"No!" Alarm jumped in that single word, alerting him to potential danger. He pitched his question more carefully.
"Is Evie okay?"
"She's with the sitter until morning."
A slight, not-so-noble shift in intention. "My place?"
A quick nod.
Glancing about to make sure no one saw them together, Rico bundled her close and hurried to where he'd parked his bike in the side alley. He slipped his helmet on her to secure her identity then sped out onto the street, hopes roaring like that big engine.
* * * * *
Rico squired her in like an incognito VIP through the apartment's service entrance. They met no one in the elevator or on his hall. He hurried her inside his apartment then was startled as she turned into his arms, clutching tight. He held her, sharing hurried heartbeats and body heat.
"Are you hungry? I actually have food in the refrigerator."
"No."
"A nightcap?"
"I'm fine."
"Okay." Feeling oddly off his game, Rico took up her hands then frowned in concern. "You're freezing. How about a hot shower?"
"If you'll come in with me."
Like he'd refuse.
His bathroom was all sterile elegance, white subway tiles, shiny chrome trim, plush white towels and a huge shower incased in floor-to-ceiling glass directly across from the double vanity. A mirror ran the full length of the counter top and rose almost to the ceiling, reflecting the shower in its entirety. Rico opened the glass door and started a fine spray from the rainforest shower head. By the time he had it regulated, Amber had stripped to bare skin, slipping past him into the enclosure. Trying not to stare at her sleek nudity, Rico started to back up, intending to close the door. Apparently, his guest had other ideas.
She gripped him by the front of his tee shirt, dragging him inside with her. Not that he minded, but he was still in his boots, and his pants' pockets were full.
"Just a second." He stepped halfway out, levering off his footgear and tugging down his pants, leaving them in a damp pile as impatient hands dragged him back inside. A wet tee shirt and briefs left little to the imagination as she molded her body against his, lifting her face for his kiss.
He couldn't taste her deeply enough, couldn't hold her close enough to settle the anguish of the past few days. Amber pushed him against the tiled wall, wrestling off his remaining clothes, gifting him with her rear view in the slowly fogging mirror as she crouched to delight his startled and enthusiastic cock with the urgent attention of her mouth. He planned to lift her away but, holy crap, she sucked like a shop vac, wringing him dry and wobbly-kneed in record time.
While Rico struggled not to fall, she rose slowly, palms stroking up his thighs and hips, reaching around to cup his ass while she lapped the moisture from the taut, quivering muscles of his belly. His rather useless hands gripped her shoulders as slick skin slid against his until they were mouth to mouth. He let her be the aggressor, lacking the assemblage of brain cells to act on his own behalf. The hot water, the amount he'd had to drink, the sleepless nights, atop her vitality-draining surprise had him melting into her hungry kisses. He managed the rudiments of towel drying and stumbled his way across the room. The last thing he clearly recalled was the long fall into his sheets.
Then, a warm, wet dream. Soft lips and seeking tongue. Whispered breaths against his neck and ear. A cautious touch waking lazy passions. His hips began an instinctive rocking. A snug, gloving heat.
What . . . ?
Rico forced his eyes open, focusing on a curvy silhouette upon a dark backdrop, rising and falling in tandem to that exquisite sensation below. The flash of a smile.
"Mind that I started without you?"
"Mind? Hell no. You’re doing just fine. Continue."
"I’ll do that."
The smugness in her tone prompted a grin and coaxed his palms up to rest on leisurely-flexing thighs. His eyes drifted shut for another minute until an inevitable tightening began below. He slid his ha
nds higher, thumbs curving inward and down, earning a sharp inhale and gusty sigh. They continued the easy rhythm until her breaths grew uneven and his deep. Hers catching, his stumbling. A sharp gasp. A lengthy groan. Then a long silence.
Amber melted over his chest, arms circling his shoulders, cheek pressing to the wolf's head tattoo over his heart where she listened to its fast, tribal beat.
"Thank you for coming after me," she said at last.
"I'm a gentleman that way. Ladies first. Except in the shower. I owe you one."
She swatted at his head, her own smile provoked. "I didn't mean it that way."
"Oh?" He nuzzled her hair, hands settling along the dip of her back where they rubbed gently. More seriously, he murmured, "You knew I would. I could never let you go."
Amber rose onto her elbows to frown at him. "You told me you would if I asked."
A guiltless smile. "I . . . exaggerated. There's no way I would have let you out of sight knowing something was wrong."
She laid her head back down to avoid his questioning stare, posture tense, knowing he wouldn't let it go. "We can't be seen together, Frederick. You have to keep your distance when others are around."
Objection rumbled through his chest like thunder. "Are you in danger, you and Evie?" His tone was deceptively soft.
"No, I don't think so. Not if we don't draw attention to ourselves. Attention tends to follow you and your family. We can't afford that."
"Why?"
"It's something from long ago. It has to do with my father. He wasn't a good man. Let it go, Rico. Please."
He petted her hair and kissed her brow, but his was a brooding silence. Finally, he demanded, "This is about your brother, isn't it? He shows up, and suddenly your life goes to shit."
What could she say? Auguste tended to have that effect. "No. It's about me. About things I can't share with you, at least not yet. I've tried to make a safe place for Evie to grow up. I didn't want her to have the same childhood I did. She won't, Rico. There's nothing I won't sacrifice to make sure of that."
"Who hurt you, Amber? Who scared you?"
"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that little girl. She's my everything. You can understand that, can't you?"