"How much do you want to know?"
The way Savoie said it curdled the acid in Rico's belly. He and Colin were just finishing their drinks at Pat O’Brien’s when the New Orleans leader suddenly filled an empty chair. Just like that, he was sitting between them with that disconcerting “Now you See Him, Now You Don’t” way he had about him. It put Rico’s already frayed nerves to the test as he bit out, "All of it."
"Are you sure?"
What kind of question was that? Was he sure?
Then Max turned it a notch tighter. "It's bad."
Of course, it was bad. He'd already known it was bad, a nightmare still terrifying mother and daughter, paralyzing them with fear and distrust. Bad was nowhere near a strong enough word for whatever they'd gone through.
Colin's hand gripped his shoulder for a firm, stabilizing press. "Knowing might change things," he cautioned quietly.
Rico stared at him, temper percolating. "Change what? The way I look at them? The way I feel about them? What kind of shallow, self-centered son of a bitch do you think I am that anything those two suffered would be too much for me to hear about third-hand? I love them! Nothing either of you can tell me is going to change that one damned bit! Now tell me!"
His brother gave the back of his head a light tap. Colin smiled at Savoie. "Told you. He's a tough guy."
"He's a pissed off and scared right down to his socks guy whose gonna start throwing punches if you two don't start talking like right fucking now!"
"Let's take a short field trip," Savoie suggested, starting for the door without waiting for them to hurriedly empty their glasses. A big black town car waited at the curb. Max climbed in front, leaving the broad back seat for the two Terriots. The vehicle glided into the darkness without a sound. In comparison, Rico's heartbeats banged like a bad exhaust system.
What if he was wrong? What if whatever secret Amber clutched so frantically was too much for him to handle? What if he wasn't strong enough, brave enough, selfless enough to accept and embrace her past?
He was scared, right down to the marrow, that all his bold words were bolstered by a fragile ego. One that couldn't absorb the dreadfulness without it coloring his reaction to them because of the things he'd seen growing up, and had been forced to do. The very thought of Amber and Evie facing horrors of that damaging magnitude made his will go weak and cower. What could he say to them? How could he pretend the idea of their tortuous past didn't sicken and terrify him?
Because he couldn't change it. He couldn't make it go away with all his love, all his power, all his money. He could only stand by and tell them he loved them.
He took a shaky breath.
"You'll do fine, Red."
Too bad he didn't have Colin's confidence.
Savoie’s driver, St. Clair, took them across the river into a seedy section of Algiers where any vice was available and life held cheap. The Lincoln looked glaringly out of place in the parking lot of Maisy J's, where low light and low lifes filled the shadows.
"I'll wait," Savoie said softly. "I'm too easy to recognize. Giles, go with them."
Rico was about to protest that they didn't need the bulky human's help, but realized St. Clair wasn't going to protect them. He was there to prevent them from exactly unholy carnage.
He took the place in with a sweeping glance. Rico had been to enough titty bars to know what to expect, but stepping inside the neon-washed ala carte business, he saw it anew through Amber James's eyes. What had a young girl like her been doing in such a place of hardened vice and ugly sins?
Did he really, truly want to know?
"Some things never change for the better," Colin murmured.
Rico glanced up at him in surprise. "You've been here?"
"With Cale and Babineau. Watch your pockets and your ass."
Rico thought the reference metaphorical until a rough hand grabbed his butt for a squeeze.
"Hi, there. Help you trip the lights fantastic?"
The busty female must have been plying that same line for at least three-plus decades. Rather than insult her, which was never a good idea, Rico wound his arm through Colin's, startling him as he purred, "Thanks, but I've already got a date."
Her kohled eyes took an incremental inventory of his older brother. She sighed, "Lucky you."
"I feel used," the elder Terriot muttered as they pushed through the crowd in St. Clair's wake.
"But not cheap," Rico amended to mollify him.
A quick tour of the crowded floor told him more than he wanted to know. Maisy J's offered every vice on a tarnished platter. Gambling, alcohol, drugs of any choice, and females—and probably males—of every size, shape and color.
The fear that he'd throw up or throw down at the least provocation grew very real.
"I've seen enough," he told St. Clair in a tight voice. Without comment, the broad-shouldered human cleared the way to the door.
Rico didn't realize he was holding his breath until he settled onto the butter-soft leather, a tense, shivery mess. Thankfully, no one spoke as the sleek car eased out of the rutted lot and back onto the bridge.
Without turning from where he sat in the front, Max began the story.
"May Johnston was a young, pretty Shifter runaway thinking she'd find a better life, but ended up in the worst possible hell. A flashy Cajun hustler name of Charlie Petitson gave her a smile and a place to stay and a job working the back rooms in a honky-tonk where he sharked pool to pay both their bills. He was greedy and shrewd, and she was fresh and beautiful, a combination that lured an influential social up-and-comer to throw in his lot with them to build a pleasure palace to honor her name. Maisy J's. Charlie managed the bar, Wren, the new off-the-books and out-of-sight partner, took care of the money and bribes, and May ran the girls. Apparently, there was nothing she wouldn't do for Charlie P, including sleep with their partner once she’d provided Charlie with twins—a son and daughter. Everything except lead her daughter down the same path. She ended up a Jane Doe, and brother and sister grew up in the life."
Rico let out a noisy breath. Auguste and Amber. Holy hell. He realized Max was waiting for word from him. "Go on."
Maisy J's did a booming trade while the children grew up in its shadow, drawing clientele from both sides of the river and boasting patrons from both the law and the legislature. Charlie should have been rolling in excess, but as handy has he was with a deck of cards or a cue, he had no head for business. Get richer schemes led to Charlie's other bad habit of blackmailing his well-to-do customers. Apparently, Wren was someone who didn't appreciate suspicious attention turning his way, and the partnership stepped onto rocky ground. But one thing he did appreciate was Charlie's teenage daughter, who became part of a very lucrative buy-out offer.
There was violence and bloodshed, and Wren escaped just ahead of the police who did their very best to convince the girl to press charges. Her silence brokered the buy-out, but on his own, Charlie couldn't keep the place afloat. So, when he fell back on his other talent to sell private information that dealt with his former partner, his luck finally ran out, just he did on his business and his children, leaving a very dangerously angry, newly-appointed New Orleans police commissioner desperate to tie up loose ends . . . by burying them and the truth deep.
Because Warren Brady couldn't afford to have his dark past as Charlie’s partner uncovered.
Rico Terriot spoke a grim summation. "Amber knows who he is."
"Both brother and sister fell off the grid, with or without help from dear old dad, but Brady never stopped looking. He's had people with ears to the ground, and finally the brother, using the name Gus Peters, surfaced and is back under Brady's thumb."
Icy shards ripped through Rico's gut, thinking of Evie’s phone. "Why hasn't he turned her over to them?"
"Blood thicker than water, maybe. Or he's waiting for the offer to increase."
"Sonuvabitch," Colin muttered.
"She was getting ready to run," Rico confided. "I convinced her not to. I told her I could protect her."
Savoie swiveled on his seat to look back at him. "Then let's not make a liar out of you."
* * * * *
At three in the morning, Rico placed a call to Amber, the anxious tone of her voice firming his decision to act.
"Hey, I'm outside. Don't turn on the light. Come to the door and let me in."
"Is everything all right?"
"It will be. Just hurry."
In a few seconds, he heard the locks disengage, and her tousled head appeared.
"Rico, what's going on?" She peered beyond him into the darkness, eyes going wide at the sight of the silent silhouettes behind him.
"It's okay. They're with me. It's time to move. Now."
She took a wary step back into the kitchen, gripping the edge of the door. All she wore was a long-sleeved sweatshirt that fell to mid-thigh. For a split second, he saw refusal in her stiffening stance then she gave a brisk nod.
"Let me get dressed."
"I'll get Evie. When you're decent, tell these guys what to take. Just what you have to have. I doubt you'll be coming back anytime soon."
"Okay." Just that. So brief and trusting it staggered him. Then she turned and ran without a sound back to the bedroom, closing the door, followed by the trio who waited respectfully in the hall.
Rico went to kneel beside the couch, heart rolling over at the sight of the little girl snuggled in a pile of blankets. "Hey, kiddo. Time to get up."
Sleepy eyes blinked up at him. "Hi, Rico. What time is it?"
"Real early. I'm taking you and your mom some place safe."
No questions. Her arms rose, slipping around his neck and holding tight. He brought the covers up around her as her legs cinched about his waist, her scent stabilizing his racing pulse.
The bedroom door opened. Amber directed the men with quick, concise sentences. As they got to emptying the closet and drawers, she hurried into the bathroom to dump the necessary contents into a tote bag. Rico caught it and slipped it over his shoulder as she trotted to the kitchen, snatching the school calendar and artwork off the refrigerator door, an old cast-iron skillet, a warped plastic bowl with a lid held on by rubber bands and a weary looking jade plant, placing them in a laundry basket.
Back in the living room, she pulled several pictures off the wall, nodding gratefully as one of the men murmured, "I'll take those, ma'am," so she could scour the room with a fiercely practical gaze. She took their coats out of the closet, handing all but the one she slipped on to the silent steward of her art, shouldered her purse and Evie's school bag, and tucked a book off the side table under her arm. The raggedy Bible that held Colin's teeth marks. She nodded to Rico.
"Ready."
How he loved her!
They followed the bulky trio, each laden with a lifetime of memories and necessities, to a large, black SUV. While belongings were stored in the back, Rico helped Amber up into the rear seat.
"Lock the house," was all she said.
When he tried to tuck Evangeline in next to her mother, she wouldn't let him go, so he ran back to secure the door with her still wound about him then leapt into the vehicle. Two men jumped in front, with the other following in a second car. Nothing was said as they sped quietly out of the Quarter.
With Evie on his lap, Rico freed an arm to band about Amber's shoulders. For all her exterior calm, she burrowed into the protective heat of his body as instinctively as her daughter had. She asked no questions, made no demands, and his devotion to her deepened by the minute.
They were so quiet he thought both had gone to sleep, but when they pulled into the huge underground parking structure, Evie asked, "Why am I going to school so early? No one will be here."
"You're not going to school." That simple answer satisfied her, but he could feel Amber's curious stare on him.
The lower lot could only be accessed by special pass or key code, the same with the elevator. The three of them went up alone while things in the SUV were placed on a luggage cart.
Both mother and child were very alert now as the elevator rose without displaying any numbers, dinging quietly and opening onto a wide, plushly-carpeted hallway. There was only one door, and Rico had the key card.
Even in total darkness, the sensation of space was immediate. Both females gasped when the lights came on.
Soaring ceiling and hardwood floors against an all-white color scheme made the open-concept kitchen, dining and living room look mammoth. Surprising pops of color brought warmth, from lime-green metal stools at the breakfast bar, bright-red glass bowls lining floating kitchen shelves, antique cane chairs painted a bright orange pushed up to the sleek white table, and a royal blue-tufted sofa angled before a big screen. Vivid abstract watercolors and acrylics softened otherwise stark walls. Huge, ferny green plants filled the corners, making it a soothing oasis.
"Oh, my," Amber whispered as if afraid of waking the residents. "Who lives here?"
"You do, for as long as you like."
Amber stared up at him, agog, but Evie had no hesitation, racing down the adjacent hall, shouting back, "Mama, it has two bedrooms!"
He was grinning after her when Amber's hands palmed his face, drawing him down for a soft kiss. Voice almost too quiet for him to hear, she whispered, "I love you."
Three words that skidded his heart to a halt then kicked it into high gear.
Before he could respond, Evie raced by them, heading for the floor-length drapes on the far wall. She pulled them aside and gave a happy little cry, unlatching the folding glass doors that opened onto a balcony.
From the rail, she called back, "Come see! You've got to see this!"
Arm in arm, Rico and Amber joined her on the wide private space that overlooked the river. Darkness was broken by a dazzle of lights from the distant bridge spanning the Mississippi and by points of life winking awake along its shores.
"I feel just like a princess in a fairytale castle!"
Evie's sigh had Amber and Rico sharing smiles over the top of her rumpled blonde hair, until a knock announcing their belongs had Rico returning inside.
"Can we really stay here, Mama?" A hopeful stare lifted.
"That's what Rico said. Do you like it?"
"Are you kidding? I love it! Did you see the kitchen?" Her voice lowered into an awed whisper. "There’s a dishwasher!"
"Hey," Rico called from inside. "You want to tell these guys where to put your stuff?"
It took minutes to store their meager belongings within the bedrooms' cavernous closets while Rico thanked Savoie's men for their assistance. One of them replied, "Our pleasure, Mr. Terriot. Can we drop you someplace?"
"No." That from Amber as she rejoined them in the entryway. "He'll be staying. Thank you."
Too professional to betray any reaction, the men nodded and withdrew.
Alone together, Rico raised a brow. "I'm staying?"
Expression clouding with sudden doubts, she asked, "Don't you want to?"
"Of course, I want to. I just didn't want to assume."
Her hand touched his chest. "Please stay."
"So, you're not mad."
"Mad?"
"At me for making decisions for the both of you. I know you told me to stay out of it, but—"
"Thank you, Rico. Thank you for stepping in. You have no idea how good it feels to just once follow instead having to lead. Thank you."
She leaned and his arms went about her, holding her close.
"But next time," she added, "check with me first before you uproot our lives in the middle of the night, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Rico, come see my room!" Evie shouted, forcing them apart. He stroked Amber's cheek with his fingertips then started down the hall.
For a moment, she simply enjoyed watching him walk away, the mile-wide shoulders, long, tapered build, the ambling, street-wise strut and dancers grace, knowing he wasn't going far. Then Amber took a moment to look about the beautiful surroundings through the eyes of ownership. Clean, crisply elegant yet with a sense comfort that embraced her. No matter how temporary, for the time being this place, like that man, were hers.
"Mom, come see!"
Blinking away the tears welling at the thought of Evie in the kitchen and Rico on the couch . . . and of him in that huge king bed with her, Amber smiled as she followed the noise of conversation to the first open door on the left. A wonderful space with a full-size bed set in a gun-metal grey iron frame and a fluffy pale blue comforter folded across its end. A built-in desk already holding her school materials, dresser and bookshelves with a niche for the TV filled one wall, and windows above a long, cushioned bench lined the other. A walk-in closet next to the bed housed the new clothes Rico had bought for her along with her other well-worn favorites.
A grinning Evie stood in the middle of it all, leaning back into the curve of Rico's arms. He grinned, too, his eyes as suspiciously shiny as her own.
"Isn't it awesome?" her daughter proclaimed.
Looking at the two of them together, Amber could only nod.
"Hey," Rico said, nudging the girl to elicit a giggle, "you need a couple more hours of sleep. How 'bout trying that new bed on for size?"
"Will you be here when I get up?"
"Sure. Get changed, and we'll tuck you in."
Again, Amber’s eyes filled with wobbly dampness.
Giving her privacy, they closed the door behind them. Amber grabbed his hand and tugged Rico into the other bedroom, where a big California-king dominated the black, white and grey color scheme. Her arms wound about his neck, dragging him down for her juicy kiss. He lingered happily, teasing with his tongue and sucking at her lips.
"So, everything's okay?"
"Very okay," she breathed against his mouth.
"There's tons of security. Evie can keep up with her school work privately. No one has access to this floor but us and Savoie, and a few of his people. There's everything you need in the shops downstairs. You never have to set foot outside again unless you want to."
"What about work?"
"LaRoche will tell everyone you had a family emergency out of town and he's not sure when you'll be back. Max said he grumbled some about that, but Miz MacCreedy is filling in for you. Susanna will drop off Evie's school work, and she can tune in to class via closed circuit in her room. No one will know where you are."
"For how long?"
"However long it takes." When she frowned at that tightly spoken fact, he softened it with a kiss and a quiet, "Until you feel safe."
"Will you stay here with us?"
He hesitated. "What will Evie think?"
"That she's the luckiest girl on the planet."
"And what will you think?"
"That I'm the luckiest girl's mom."
Not quite the gushing affirmation he was looking for. "I'm not sure how good a roommate I'll be. Do I take the couch?"
Her stare was unwavering. "No."
His brow hitched upward. "And what will Evie think about that?"
"That I took long enough for me to invite you."
He blinked in surprise then grinned wide. "You naughty girls."
"I thought you liked naughty girls."
"No. Not all of them. Just my two girls."
A loud throat clearing at the door brought them apart.
"Kid present," Evangeline announced, a bit after the fact.
"Thanks for the head's up," he drawled. "Back to bed, kiddo. The kitchen will still be there when you wake up." To Amber, he murmured, "I got this. Why don't you go ahead with whatever girly stuff you need to do?"
She sniffed at that term but gave him a freeing push away.
With Evie under the covers and already heavy-lidded, Rico bent to kiss her brow and found her arm squeezing about his neck.
"Thanks for being here, Rico," she whispered, voice catching. “Is everything okay now?”
"Thanks for wanting me here, Angel." A first time for everything. Being wanted. "Everything’s fine. Go to sleep."
* * * * *
The light was off in the master bedroom, the only illumination sifting in through sheer drapes.
"Lock the door."
The husky voice came from that big bed. Rico turned the latch.
"Come here."
"What about Evie?"
"She knows the meaning of a locked door. Do not disturb."
"Oh?"
"For those times I didn't want to be disturbed . . . when I was thinking about you."
"Oh!" He levered out of his boots and shucked off his shirt and pants, leaving them where they fell. "That's still something I'd like to watch."
"Tonight, I'd rather have you participate."
"No problem."
The covers lifted and he slid between deliciously silky sheets and, just as smoothly, between deliciously silky thighs. Teasing for a moment, rubbing, penetrating with shallow little thrusts while her fingers clutched and kneaded his ass. She raised her hips to take him fully inside, encouraging a slow, seeking rhythm.
“Frederick.”
“Ummm?”
“Kiss me like I’m not somebody’s mom.”