“Today, we’re talking close quarter combat and that critical second you might have to save your own life. I need a volunteer.” The blade Rico twirled agilely between his fingers stopped, deadly point taking aim. “Thanks for volunteering. Step on up here. Don’t be shy,” he goaded when Auguste hesitated.
He gave the knife a flip. Gus caught it easily and, wary of being singled out, advanced to where Rico stood in front of their group.
“When you have an enemy within arm’s reach,” the Terriot prince continued, skewering Augie with a dangerous stare before addressing the others, “you don’t pull a weapon that can be taken away and used against you. You strike first, hard and fast, palm to the nose, fist to the base of the skull, hand to the neck to rip out any sound of surprise. You incapacitate first then move back to a distance where you can run or draw your own weapon. If you’re thinking only cowards run, you’re a fool. An average enemy can travel seven yards in less than one point five seconds to stab you or pull a gun and shoot you. Less, if you’re up against a professional.”
“And if you can’t run,” Donny posed, “and you’re up close and personal before you know it?”
“If you’re caught in a tight spot, you have four things in your favor. Your enemy will underestimate you, expect you to hesitate, so use that first second to throw them off. Surprise gives you a valuable edge. Use deception by pretending weakness or fear, distraction by looking away suddenly to draw their attention off you, or startle them with a loud cry or aggressive move. Use speed to take advantage of their surprise. React with instinct instead of thought. Hone that weapon until it becomes an automatic response to confrontation.
“But your best answer to confrontation is violence, and by that, I mean the willingness to do whatever it takes to completely subdue your enemy without hesitation. Whatever it takes. Anything else will get you and your team killed. Any time you pull a weapon, do it with the mindset that someone is going to die and you don’t want it to be you. When you don’t have a weapon, you are the weapon.”
Rico turned abruptly, the move bringing him within a heartbeat of an armed Gus Peters. Faced with flaming red eyes and a ferocious roar, Gus took a startled step back, giving Rico the chance to backhand him in the face and twist the knife from his hand as he reeled in pain-induced blindness. In that second, he’d been surprised, debilitated and disarmed, finding himself on the edge of his own blade.
“How do you survive?” Rico shouted at him.
The last thing he expected was for Gus to grab a fistful of his junk, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to Rico’s eyes. While the rest of the group groaned in sympathetic agony, he held onto his bile long enough to bash his forehead into his opponent’s face to gain release. They both staggered back, but Rico quickly oriented himself, clenching Gus in the vee of his elbow, jerking him off balance and spinning him around so he could put the knife point beneath the ear into which he whispered hoarsely, “You’re dead.”
Rico shoved him forward onto his knees while gripping his own for balance.
A long silence then T-Ray cried, “You not only have big balls, they must be made of iron!”
He wished.
This was not how he’d planned things to go earlier that morning, sharing breakfast with the two females he adored. Rico had wanted to linger with them all day, enjoying the sight of them so relaxed and filled with excitement as they settled in to the home the three of them would share. But he couldn’t, not with unfinished business hanging unattended. That business of a traitorous brother.
How he’d wanted Auguste Petitson’s blood on that blade! But he needed answers more.
Once he was sure he could walk without throwing up, Rico led his group to a huge building that housed shipping containers of various shapes and sizes, making a maze of blind corridors throughout the ample space. There, he opened the packet of colored markers he’d borrowed from Evie and spilled them on the floor, instructing, “Pick your weapon of choice. You’ve got twenty minutes to play a game of hide and seek. The object is to put your color on as many opponents as effectively as possible without getting their mark on you. And to make it more fun,” he flipped a switch, plunging the vast space into various shades of shadow, lit only by tiny slits of light from high above, “we’re going to do it in the dark. When the lights come back on, meet me back here. Oh, and I’ll be playing, too. Go.”
There was an immediate scramble as they grabbed up a marker and dashed for cover offered by the crates, separating in the darkness. Rico waited a few beats then went high, jumping to catch the edge of a container and pulling himself above the many canyons where he could crouch low and trot silently, swinging down to pick off the others, and then back up out of sight. And when his watch beeped, he shouted, “Hold!” while he went to turn on the overheads and call his men in.
He lined them up, having them hold their colors in front of them while he did a tally of fatal rainbow stripes received, from most—the outspoken Trey—to least, T-Ray who only had Rico’s and two others. All had Rico’s bright purple line from ear-to-ear.
“How ′bout you?” T-Ray challenged their leader. “How many managed to get you.”
“None,” he stated, only to have Donny contradict him.
“Check again, Hoss,” he called, using his own orange marker to tap beneath his right ear.
Rico put a hand to that spot and came away with a vivid smear of tangerine on his fingertips. He laughed. “Well done. All of you. See you tomorrow. We’ll play again. And, oh, that’s permanent ink, by the way.” He grinned as they cursed. “At the end of the weekend, some of you should look positively gallery-worthy as works of modern art.”
A sense of satisfaction unfolded watching them admire each other’s markings as they wandered out. Until only Auguste remained. When sure they were alone, Gus demanded, “Where are they?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play your games with me, Terriot. Where’s my sister and niece? Their house is empty. What have you done with them?”
“What needed to be done to protect them from you, you son-of-a-bitch.”
“They’re my family! You have no right!”
“I have every right when they looked to me for help after you sold them out to the monsters who want them dead.” When Gus stood silenced by his guilt and surprise, Rico plowed on with a fierce growl. “Family means dying if needs be to keep them safe, not selling them to save your own cowardly ass.”
“You don’t know anything!”
“I know everything! Where were you when that little girl’s arm was broken?”
“Standing between him and my sister with a gun,” he shouted back. Then his voice broke painfully. “I never thought he’d harm Evie. She was . . . was just a child. I still hear her and Ammy screaming every single time I close my eyes.”
Rico didn’t want that to matter. “But you ran away and left them. What kind of brother does that?”
“No! I ran so they’d be safe. And they were, until you and yours came here and started helping Savoie stir that shit up all over again. They were safe and happy, and now you’ve got them back in the cross hairs again. You, not me. This is on you.”
“I had nothing to do with this. You made this mess, not me or mine, and I’ll be damned if the two of them will be caught in the middle of it. How much?”
Auguste drew back behind his shock. “What?”
“How much to pay them off, and for you to disappear forever? And I mean for good.”
“How much?” A harsh laugh. “What, are you just going to write a check to buy my family?”
Rico winced but didn’t relent. “If it will keep them safe from you and the trouble you breed? Yes.”
“Fuck you, Terriot. You can’t buy them with your billions, and you can’t dazzle them into forgetting me. You go to hell. All I have to do is wait for you to get tired of playing hero and move on to some other distraction.”
The punch came out of nowhere. Rico hadn’t planned to hit him, but his temper acted on its own accord, clipping the sneering Petitson and nearly knocking him out of his shoes on his way to the concrete. When he didn’t get up, Rico stood over him, a seething tower of fury.
“Don’t you pretend to know how I feel about them, you weaselly bastard. One thing you can believe, is that they mean more to me than my money, or either of our lives. Take that to the bank. I gave you a way out, and you spit on me. Get away from me and stay away from them, or I will kill you on sight.” He stepped over the prostrate form, kicking at him in passing.
“Make all the threats you want, Terriot. They’ll never choose you over me. Never. And you can take that to the bank.”
* * * * *
How had the bastard managed to disappear so completely?
Auguste pounded on the dashboard of his watchdog’s car, a frustrated panic hammering just as fiercely against his ribs.
“He was right there! Where did he go?”
Motorcycle and rider had simply vanished off the street in the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic, taking with him Augie’s hopes of finding his sister and slipping the ever-tightening leash of his associates.
The driver didn’t answer, the tic jumping in his cheek saying it all. Time was running out on their kinder, gentler approach to getting things done.
He should have just taken the money and run.
“He’ll show up tomorrow. We can try again.”
“I told you,” the driver said with a heavy sigh, “don’t underestimate him. They’re not dumb animals who can be easily led or deceived. They’re hunters, predators more clever and dangerous than you can imagine. They can follow any trail and leave none.”
“So, what do we do?” Gus whined, nursing his jaw.
“If he won’t lead us to her, we’ll let him bring her to us. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go through everyone he knows or cares about. I’m not going to pay for your promises. They will.”
* * * * *
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.