“Got a minute to make some talk?” the Mohawked spokesman ventured.
“Appears I’ve got nothing but time.” Rico waved them in while looking to Amber. “Your boss mind if we use his room?”
She stepped away from him with a wry smile. “As long as you use it more gently than his bar.” She glanced at the threesome. “Can I get you boys a beer?” At their quick affirmative, she took four from the mini-fridge and gestured for them to take a seat on the pair of couches, delivering the cold ones before saying, “I’ve got to get back to work.”
She left quickly without another glance at the battered Terriot.
The long-necks sighed open, and all drank deeply before T-Ray put it bluntly. “You mean what you said out there?”
Wincing as alcohol met ragged lip, Rico asked, “Which part?”
“All of it.”
“I usually tend to. That’s what gets me in trouble.”
They echoed his rough chuckle. Then T-Ray spoke plain. “You stood for us against your family. Why would you do that?”
“Just because we share the name doesn’t mean we all agree on our intentions.”
“Which are?”
“Have you met us?” Rico laughed. “We tend to think we can use, buy, take or control everything we see to our best advantage. Your location is a transportation advantage. It’s a crossroads to our territory, and a water highway into that of our enemies. My brother may speak a virtuous line about for the good of all, but it comes down to for the good of our people. Same with the Guedrys. If this becomes a battleground, none of us are going to protect you over our interests. That’s all I’m saying. You need to protect your own.”
“Show us how to protect ourselves. How to fight them.”
Rico laughed then clutched at his bruised side. “Me? What can I show you? Didn’t you see what happened out there? My brother wiped the floor with me.”
“Only because you let him,” Lamar Poe, the mournful-looking one, said quietly. “You held back. We need someone who knows the difference between charging in and holding back. Fools rush in, and whatever you might pretend to be, Mr. Terriot, you are no fool.”
First time he’d ever heard that. “You don’t know me well enough to trust me.”
“We don’t have to,” T-Ray assured him. “She does.”
Rico twisted, hugging his ribs, to look where he pointed, at Amber James behind the bar, his confusion obvious.
“She trusts you enough to leave with you and that, my friend, is a mighty, mighty rare occasion. That’s good enough for us.”
That information startled . . . and pleased him. He was the exception? Suddenly, that carried more weight than his brother’s plan. “What do you think I could possibly do for you?”
“Show us how to fight, how to stand.”
“Don’t you already have a group of fellas that guard the gates?”
“And they’d be enough if they’d work together.”
“And you want me to whip them into shape overnight? Why would they listen to anything I said?”
“You’re a Terriot. You may keep to yourselves but the rumors about your discipline and brutality are legend. Nobody in their right mind would mess with one of you, especially after what your brother done the other night. Twenty to one odds? Only an idiot would take one of you on and expect to win. And they won’t forget how you stepped in before anyone got dead, and took control of the situation. I wouldn’ta thought anyone could curb that crazy one, but you did, and did it without more bloodshed. Whether you know it or not, you’re a hero to some around here.”
“A hero.”
He snorted, but something deep down caught fire and started to burn bright and warm. Acceptance. Respect. Something no one had ever showered on Frederick Terriot, middle prince, the Prince of Fools in the House of Terriot.
Very soberly, so there’d be no mistake, Rico told them, “I won’t teach you how to kill my family.”
“We’re not warriors, Mr. Terriot,” Donny Bastian, the youngest of the three spoke quietly. “We’re not going after you and yours. We just want to keep our families safe in their homes. Can you help us do that? Please. I got a mama, a kid brother and sisters. I want to keep them safe and alive. That’s all. Show me how to do that.”
Suddenly, Rico was seeing his own brothers, both younger and older, who were gone, felt the weight of that emptiness and loss as never before. He thought of Colin’s sisters, of Kip’s close-knit family, of Amber James and her daughter, and of what he would do to protect them. Anything. Absolutely anything.
“What is it that you want me to do?”
“Teach us,” T-Ray said. “Train us. We know how to fight. We just don’t know how to follow. We don’t know how to work together.”
A flood of excuses rose like water against their protective levee, but not a single reason surfaced for him to say no to what T-Ray Roux asked, what Guedry and Colin asked.
“How many are in this Patrol of yours?”
“Sixty, seventy. More coming every day.”
“It needs to be hundreds who move as one if you’re going to hold this city. Hundreds who listen to one voice.”
“Will that voice be yours, Mr. Terriot?” T-Ray asked.
The three held collective breaths, looking to him. To him!
“Yes.”
* * * * *
As he piloted his motorcycle down the crowded streets of the Quarter, the sense of isolation stole over Rico like clouds over the fingernail moon above. Though he’d always felt on the outer edge of his band of brothers, never had he been beyond the protection of their ranks.
Things were in motion. He was in. Now, all he had to do, with help from Cale’s friend T-Ray, was find the mole planted by the North within their ranks and provide that information to Rueben and his brother without getting himself killed by that informant . . . or by those he was supposed to train who had every reason to want him dead.
What could possibly go wrong?
* * * * *
Though the three locals returned to their table, Rico hadn’t reappeared to finish his drink or wish her good night.
Frederick Terriot was a prince to her Cinderella barmaid. Behind that careless grin and sad eyes lay what his clan made him. Royalty. Rich, hard, proud, thoughtless as well as vulnerable, and as far above her and her dreams as his soaring mountaintop to their bayou. Men like Frederick Terriot didn’t truly see females like her, not as equals, not as feeling, wanting, sharing partners. He’d use them for the moment to fill a need, not a permanent void, not because he was cruel or insensitive, but because of who he’d been raised to be.
And that would never, ever change, no matter what she hoped or Mia Geudry vowed, no matter what those soft, seducing lips might promise.
Her heart carried more wounds than her body, her mind not quite as many as her soul. Still, foolishly, she might have taken a chance on this once in a lifetime prince if she were the only one at risk. But she had more to protect than just herself.
Amber reminded herself of that as she guided her sleepy daughter from the care of her neighbor to her child’s already made-up bed on the couch and watched the joy of her life snuggle safely into those covers. No hero had provided her with that child. No prince was going to protect and provide for her. That precious job was hers alone. She’d trust it to no other.
And if that left her in cold and lonely sheets, she’d gladly make that sacrifice. So, she told herself, as her palm smoothed over the empty space beside her.
* * * * *
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Roused by the sound of pounding on her front door, Amber sat up, squinting toward her clock.
4:30? She took a quick, precarious breath. Rico?
Hating the way her heart knocked frantically as she whipped on her robe in a race for the door, she glanced quickly toward the couch. Though awake, Evangeline lay motionless within her covers, waiting direction as she’d been taught.
Kitchen tiles were cold beneath her bare feet. Colder hands reached for the light switch, illuminating a male figure on her porch. But not the silhouette she expected to see. Pulling a blade from the knife block on her counter, Amber eased open the door without releasing the chain.
“Let me in. It’s cold.”
“Augie?”
Unsteady hands fumbled with the chain. She stepped back quickly as the bundled figure pushed past her into the warmth of the kitchen. After a careful glance into the darkness to make sure he was alone, Amber re-latched the door and turned on the shadowed figure with a hissed, “What are you doing here?”
“What? No hug for your baby bro?”
“Were you careful?”
“Geez, Am. I wasn’t followed. I know better.”
“What do you want?”
“To see you and my little angel. Do you need another reason?”
“At four in the morning? Yeah, I think I do.”
She clicked on the stove light to gage his expression, not that it would tell her anything he didn’t want her to know. Part of her was eager to see those features she’d once loved so completely. The wiser part expected to find them battered beyond recognition as they’d often been at this hour.
Amber hadn’t seen her younger brother by three minutes since Evangeline was eight years old. They hadn’t separated on good terms, him sneaking out in the middle of the night, stealing all the money she’d managed to save, leaving her to face his creditors the next morning. It had taken her two years of working extra shifts to square his debts, and a hopeful grin wouldn’t erase that caution.
But love trumped lessons learned. He filled her arms the instant they opened, fitting against her now the way he always had, as the other half of her whole world.
“Uncle Augie?”
He stepped back, pulled by that tentative call, waiting for his sister’s nod before going to kneel beside the couch. “It’s me, Angel. Do you remember me?”
The fragile catch in his voice quickened a burn in Amber’s eyes. Her brother had doted on her child, and vice versa. When he’d disappeared, he’d broken more than just her own heart. He’d taught her little girl the same hard lesson she’d been burdened with. Not to blindly trust in those you loved.
“Of course, I do.”
That’s all it took for years to evaporate and Evangeline to fill her uncle’s open arms.
Watching her brother and daughter together, pride and panic combined for a bitter cocktail. They looked so similar, fair, slight, and naively helpless, stirring protective instincts that formed the unbending backbone of who she was.
“Where have you been? Why did you leave?” A young pre-teen’s questions with a sharp adult point.
Amber braced for the answers.
Augie leaned back, his hand fondly mussing Evangeline’s hair. “I had to become a better man so I could be part of the family you deserve. I came back to help your mama for a change.”
Amber froze as his gaze lifted to hers, holding firm against the desire to believe the way her daughter did, because she wasn’t a child anymore and she couldn’t afford to have faith he’d changed on his say so alone. Her narrowed eyes delivered that fact, dimming his smile but not his enthusiasm. He turned back to his niece with a barrage of reacquainting questions. Before they got too carried away, she crossed to them and placed a firm hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Where are you staying?”
“I’m in transit. Haven’t made arrangements yet.”
No big surprise there.
“Evie, you need more sleep. Go climb in my bed and let your uncle take your covers for the rest of the night. He’ll be here when you wake up.”
“I didn’t mean to put you out,” Augie began.
Of course he did, or he wouldn’t have shown up unannounced. The look she gave her brother settled the issue. “Go on, baby.”
With another squeezing hug, Evangeline slipped off the couch and into her mother’s room, leaving a tense mood behind.
“You’ll be here when she gets up.” It wasn’t a request.
“Of course, I will. I’m here to get to know her. And for both of you to get to know me.”
“I know you. You break her heart, I’ll break your neck.”
His smile wavered, taking a wry twist because he believed that statement more than the one that followed.
“Welcome home.”
* * * * *
Into the lion’s den.
Rico stepped inside the ratty trailer that served as office for Philo Tibideaux, dock foreman and leader of the Patrol, the self-appointed protectors of the Shifters in New Orleans. The interior and the man were surprises.
From the well-worn outside view, he’d expected both to be unkempt and ragged. While not Better Homes & Gardens tidy, the space gleamed from well-organized care as did Tibideaux with his close-cropped red hair, smooth shave, tidy khaki camp shirt and pressed chinos. The unmated male in Rico recognized someone with a better half at home. But there was no mistaking the tall, lanky Shifter for a desk jockey. Wide shoulders and ample biceps bulged against restraining cotton, and a knifepoint stare got right to business.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever had a conversation with a Terriot that didn’t start and end in bloodshed.”
“Happy to be the exception,” Rico promised, taking the offered chair and an enamel-stripping cup of coffee, sipping cautiously beneath the narrowed gaze of the other.
“What are you doing here?”
“Choking down this battery acid to be polite.”
“What are you doing here in my city, muscling in on my Patrol?” he clarified.
“Hey, I was invited, slick. If you got a problem, hash it out with your recruiters. They said you had a morale issue and needed someone who knew how to train attack dogs to heel. If I’m stepping on your toes, I’d be happy to back off.”
Their stares held in challenge then Tibideaux chuckled. “You got guts, I’ll give you that.”
“I got handed them instead of brains, so you don’t have to worry about me running some game on you and yours. What you see is what you get.”
“And what’s that, Terriot? More trouble I don’t need? You gonna mix it up like your brother? I don’t need more short crews while bones mend.”
“I’m not saying I’ll go easy on your boys. That’s not my way. Some’ll get bruised and more’ll get riled, but I’ll make something of them that’ll put the fear of perdition in whoever thinks to cross into your territory uninvited.”
Tibideaux continued to eye him suspiciously for a long moment then simply nodded. “We got plenty of talent, plenty of enthusiasm, but not a lot of focus. We need to turn that from our internal squabbles to our real enemy. We got several groups here, and none of them want to work with the others. How you planning to fix that?”
Good question. “I’ll start with the group leaders, get them on program, then they can pass it down through their ranks.”
“And they’ll listen to you? Follow you?”
“I don’t plan to give them a choice.” He showed his teeth in a less than friendly gesture. “You pick your top dozen. I’ll need an empty place to work and no interference. It’s my way or I take the highway.”
Tibideaux’s reluctance remained apparent. “Whatchu gonna need to work with?”
With three fingers looped through the heavy handle, Rico smashed his ceramic mug on the edge of the table, pressing the jagged edges to Tibideaux’s throat before he could finish swallowing.
Voice low and cool, he replied, “I pretty much use whatever I have available to get the job done.”
Tension passed on a rapid heartbeat. Then Tibideaux smiled. “Then I’ll leave you to get it done . . . slick.”
* * * * *
Adrenaline pumped, the last thing Rico wanted to do after tearing through a hefty Plantation Breakfast with a pecan and powder-covered Callas Cake at the Old Coffee Pot was return to his empty apartment while it settled. It was too early to find Amber at Cheveux du Chien. He wanted to impress her with his decision and sudden new focus, to watch admiration warm her dark eyes and make her smile. Her respect meant more to him than the guarded acknowledgement of his brother.
He found himself on her narrow side street, guiding his idling bike over to the mucky gutter, about to cut the engine when her side door opened. The gladness jumping in his chest plummeted like a meteorite to smash on contact. Because she wasn’t alone.
A man, his face shadowed by the hood of his sweat jacket, came out on the tiny stoop beside her. She stepped into his embrace, hugging him with obvious emotion.
Lowering his helmet’s visor to conceal his shock, Rico eased away from the curb so as not to draw their notice.
* * * * *
An hour later, Rico waited, still tense and moody, inside a cavernous warehouse, leaning back against a single six-foot table as he worked a steel baton in figure-eights around his fingers. They gathered slowly, at a distance, eyes gleaming silver in the dim light, wary, angry males, with the exception of the three who’d recruited him. He knew what they saw—an enemy, an outsider, a threat to their autonomy whose diamonds flashed arrogantly with each assessing tip of his head. And he wasn’t about to prove them wrong.
He gestured with his fingers for them to come closer. “Don’t be shy. I won’t bite . . . hard,”
“What’re you doing here, Terriot?” one of them growled as they edged closer.
“Your boss asked me to take you all to school. Class just started. You don’t wanna be here listening to the likes of me, I get that. You wanna leave? All you have to do is take this from me and you’re free to go.”
“Your brother ain’t here to back you,” another sneered.
Rico stood away from the table, and they took a collective step back, all edgy caution. He slipped off his jacket, revealing an impressive display of sculpted muscle beneath the baggy tank top he wore.
The baton circled lazily as he drawled, “I don’t need my brother to deal with the likes of you boys. C’mon. What are you waiting for? Don’t think the twelve of you can handle one Terriot? Must be something you want evens for, some relative we’ve killed, some sister we’ve screwed,” his tone lowered, adding silkily, “. . . or mother.”
They rushed him, a ferocious tide. A press extended the ends of his baton. With a quick spin, Rico knocked them back then hacked and jabbed his way through their number until those who weren’t stretched out bloody on the floor were willing to concede to the rumors they’d heard. A Terriot prince was a fighter of mythic elevation, unstoppable, unconquerable and, they were to a man out of their league.
Slipping his coat back on, untouched by their greater number, Rico drawled, “That’s all for today. Now that we know whose top dog, I want you all to think on why the dozen of you, who couldn’t take out one Terriot, believe they’re a match for hundreds who’ll be coming down from the North. I’ll see you tomorrow, and if you don’t have an answer by then, I guess we’ll just have to start all over again.”
When Rico started forward, those still standing backed away, eyes lowered, jaw muscles working resentfully. He walked out, paying them no mind or respect.