Swept Aside

by Sharon Sala

  Suddenly there was a knock on her door, and before she could answer, it swung inward. Nick entered, barefoot and bare above the waist, his devil-black hair still gleaming with droplets from the shower he must have taken in the room across the hall.

  “Wayman wants your phone.”

  Wayman pushed past Nick and strode toward Amalie.

  “The phones are still out, but at least your electricity is back on,” Nick said.

  “I know. A great reason to rejoice,” she drawled, then watched as Wayman reached for the phone and started to rip it from the jack.

  “Wait! For God’s sake, wait!” She ran toward him, then quickly unplugged it from the wall. “There’s no need for destruction,” she muttered, as she set the phone firmly in his hands.

  Taken aback by her reprimand, Wayman flushed, then left the room cursing under his breath.

  Nick was grinning. “That doesn’t happen often,” he said.

  Amalie’s focus shifted, and it was all she could do to keep her gaze on his face instead of his body.

  “What doesn’t happen often?”

  “A woman getting under the French brothers’ skin.”

  She rolled her eyes. “All he had to do was ask. I wasn’t going to wrestle him for it.”

  Nick grinned.

  Amalie frowned. “You’re missing a shirt.”

  “I’m also missing underwear. When the power came back on, I hand washed them, then tossed them in your dryer, and…until the timer goes off, this is what you’re going to get.”

  A bright flush spread up her neck and across her face.

  Damn the man. He knew he was getting to her.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I suppose you men are expecting breakfast?”

  He was studying the faint blush under her skin, wondering what had possessed him to taunt her.

  “I suppose,” he said.

  “Fine,” Amalie muttered, then strode past him, descending the stairs with her nose in the air and the man at her heels. To her disgust, Lou was digging through the refrigerator when she entered the kitchen.

  “I was told to prepare breakfast,” she announced.

  He jumped like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then slammed the door.

  Amalie pointed at the lunch meat in his hand.

  “You do know that when that’s all gone, there won’t be any more.”

  He glared, then, out of spite, stuffed an entire slice into his mouth and chewed loudly as he went out the back door.

  Nick walked in just as Lou walked out. He took one look at Amalie’s face and frowned, wondering what had just happened.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I just caught your friend going through the refrigerator and reminded him that when the food was gone, there wasn’t any more and no way to replenish it. I don’t think he cared.”

  Nick’s face lost all expression. “He’s not my friend, and you’re right. He doesn’t care…not about anyone but himself.”

  Amalie threw up her hands in frustration.

  “Then why do you hang out with him? Why do you hang out with any of them? What did you do for a living before you started your life of crime?”

  Answering this with anything but a lie would get into dangerous territory, and he wasn’t ready to add to the lie already in place.

  “What makes you think I knew anything else?”

  Amalie was disappointed that he didn’t defend himself and reminded herself that just because he was good-looking, that didn’t mean he had an ounce of goodness in him. Still, she couldn’t let it go.

  “You have a conscience, something the others are lacking. I just assumed there was more to you. Obviously I was wrong. So, unless you want to make yourself useful, stay out of my way.”

  She banged a couple of cabinets as she got out some plates, then started the coffee, well aware that Nick was watching her every move. She glanced out the window and saw Lou with the handsaw, trying to remove some more of the limb. At least they were trying to get the debris off her car again. The sooner the better.

  It wasn’t long before the scent of frying bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. As soon as the bacon was done, she began scrambling eggs and making toast. Within a couple more minutes, the meal was finished.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she announced, without turning around.

  Nick called Lou into the house as Wayman entered the kitchen.

  “I smelled food,” Wayman said.

  Amalie pointed at the table, where she’d carried their plates.

  “I want sugar in my coffee,” Wayman said.

  Amalie pointed. “It’s on the table.”

  Still smarting from her earlier put down, Wayman’s hands curled into fists.

  “Don’t get smart with me, lady. You’re not the one in charge.”

  Nick heard the tone of Wayman’s voice and knew he was only seconds from exploding. He strode to the table and shoved the sugar bowl toward Wayman.

  “Help yourself,” he said softly.

  Wayman blinked. He’d seen that expression on Aroyo’s face before, and while he was confident in his ability to beat the holy shit out of Lou, Nick would be a different story.

  “Yeah…whatever,” he muttered, and dumped two huge spoonfuls of sugar into his cup before stirring.

  Amalie’s stomach was in knots. When Lou’s footsteps sounded on the back porch, the knots grew tighter. Refusing to let them see her fear, she lifted her chin and turned her back. With shaking hands, she reached for a piece of toast, buttered it, then took a bite and began to chew. Maybe if she treated them like she did her recalcitrant high school students, she could gain a little leverage. At the least, they wouldn’t know she was scared out of her mind.

  Nick ate quickly, then carried his plate to the sink. The limb they were trying to remove was closer to the size of a small tree, and they still had a lot of cutting to do. Even when it was finished, there was no guarantee they would end up with a car they could drive. He had no idea how they were going to pop up the roof, or if they did, that the doors would open or then shut again. All they could do was take it one step at a time, and, hopefully, leave Amalie and her home intact when they left.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” he said quietly.

  She shrugged. “I made some for the other man, too.”

  Wayman looked up from the table. “You made breakfast for Tug?”

  “Yes. Do you think he can eat it?”

  Wayman’s attitude took a one-eighty shift. Doing something nice for Tug was like doing something nice for him.

  “Yeah, yeah…he’ll eat it. Thanks,” he said, then got up, grabbed the plate and a cup of coffee, and quickly left the room.

  Lou banged his coffee cup on the table. “I need a refill.”

  Amalie grabbed the coffeepot, and before Nick could intervene, she was at the table. The moment she leaned forward to refill his cup, he palmed her breast, then squeezed it hard—hard enough to cause pain.

  But she’d been expecting it. She pretended shock and reacted by pouring coffee into his lap instead of the cup.

  “Shit!” Lou yelled. He leaped up from his chair and grabbed at the front of his pants, trying to pull the hot, wet fabric off his skin. “You bitch!” he cried, and swung his fist.

  Suddenly Nick was between them, his hand curled around Lou’s forearm.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said, and pushed Lou away. “I saw the whole thing. It’s your own fault for grabbing her. You knew she had a pot of hot coffee, and yet you couldn’t keep your damned hands to yourself. All she did was react when you hurt her.”

  Lou stomped out of the kitchen without looking back, slamming the door behind him.

  Nick spun toward Amalie.

  “You did that on purpose. Are you crazy? Next time I might not be close enough to save you.”

  Amalie turned on him, her voice shaking with rage. “Save me? From what? Dying? I’ve already faced that. And guess what, mister? I’m not afr
aid to die. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around why I survived a massacre to come home to this! It would be easier to be dead. My biggest problem now is finding the courage to live.”

  Nick was speechless. He didn’t know how to counter such rage and despair.

  Amalie began clearing the table, and when she had finished, she went into the utility room to get a mop to clean up the floor.

  “Let me,” Nick said, and took the mop out of her hands.

  “Fine,” Amalie said, and started stacking dishes into the dishwasher, too aware of the man behind her.

  Wayman came back into the room as she was rinsing out the sink.

  “Tug ate almost all of it,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Amalie sighed. She understood family loyalty. “You’re welcome.”

  Wayman glanced around the room. “You got any more coffee?”

  She rolled her eyes as Nick interjected.

  “Lou spilled it.”

  Wayman shrugged. “Tug’s asleep for now. I’ll go help Lou,” he said, and headed out the door.

  Nick turned to Amalie, hoping to lighten the moment.

  “Alone at last.”

  Her lips thinned. “Surely you jest.”

  “Yes, but obviously not too well.”

  “Oh. That was a joke? Sorry. It appears my funny bone is still healing, too.”

  Nick grinned. Damn the woman, but she was something—and she was getting under his skin.

  Breath caught in the back of Amalie’s throat. What that smile did to his face should be illegal.

  Then the moment was shattered with a cry of alarm.

  Nick’s first thought was that Lou had actually hurt himself this time, and he headed out the door as Lou and Wayman came running toward the house.

  Nick stopped on the porch, then heard the helicopter and knew why they were running. The search for the missing prisoners was still ongoing.

  The pair flew up the steps and into the house, tracking mud as they went.

  “Son of a bitch!” Lou said, as he slammed the door behind them. “There’s another chopper coming over. They’re gonna find us. They’re gonna find us.”

  “Not if we stay out of sight,” Wayman said. “I say we wait until dark. We got power again. We can string some lights and work outside then.”

  “There aren’t any to string,” Amalie said.

  “You got extension cords,” Lou said. “I saw them in the pantry. We’ll by God drag out some of your fancy lamps if we have to.”

  Amalie refused to react.

  “Whatever. But you should know that the bayou is the first place the authorities go to look for missing people. It’s not hard to figure why the chopper is flying low over the house. The swamp starts less than a half mile from the back of this property. I’m sure they’re flying low over lots of people’s houses.”

  “We can’t take any chances,” Wayman said. “Damn it. This place is driving me crazy. We’re trapped here just like we were back in Bordelaise. I’m going back to be with Tug.”

  Amalie pointed at Wayman’s feet. “Would you mind wiping your feet first? Your shoes are muddy.”

  Lou sneered, but without a comment, Wayman wiped the soles of his shoes. Lou wasn’t in the same frame of mind. He started to step off the mat.

  “Wipe your feet,” Wayman said.

  Lou cursed, but he wiped the mud from his shoes.

  “Thank you both so much,” Amalie said.

  Wayman was not a man who understood sarcasm.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and left the room.

  Lou was still standing on the mat with his hands curled into fists and a look of rage on his face.

  “You think you’re something, don’t you, bitch? That’s fine. You just keep on dreaming. Just know that before we leave, I’ll wipe that smirk off your face—permanently.”

  Amalie flinched. There was no mistaking the threat, but it wasn’t anything new. She’d known from the beginning that this man was the one who posed the most danger. Still, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d scored.

  Nick stepped between them.

  “You through talking?”

  Lou’s anger was a living thing, infesting his thoughts to the point that he physically shuddered. He tried to shift focus but couldn’t make it happen. He wanted to watch her die, and that was a fact. The moment would come, and when it did, he was going to be the one to take her down. He pointed at Amalie, aiming his hand like a gun, and then pulled the trigger.

  “I’m going back out to the car,” he said.

  Nick pointed out the window.

  “The chopper is making another pass over the house.”

  Lou hit the wall with his fist.

  “Shit! We’re never gonna get out of here. Anybody checked the phones to see if they’re working?”

  “They’re all under Tug’s bed,” Nick said.

  “Then I’m gonna get one and plug it in to see if there’s a dial tone.”

  He blew a kiss at Amalie as he passed, then made a smacking noise with his lips, as if he’d just tasted something good.

  Amalie glanced at the clock. It was a little bit after 10:00 a.m., with the entire day stretching out before them. The possibility of being stranded inside did not bring them any closer to leaving than they’d been the night before. Frustrated, she turned to Nick, her hands on her hips.

  “Now what?”

  Nick sighed. “I wish to hell I had an answer for that.”

  “So while you’re looking for answers, I’m going to get a book from the library and go back to my room. It’s not like I can garden, or sit on the porch and enjoy the day. I didn’t sleep so well last night. I might take another nap…really live it up.”

  Nick was just as frustrated as she was. He was sitting on vital information that needed to be relayed, and instead he was trapped in a house with three thugs and a pissed-off woman.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said again, and realized he was also sick of apologizing.

  The chopper buzzed the house again as it flew over, drowning out most of his words, but it didn’t matter. Amalie was already on her way out of the kitchen.

  He followed her to the library, pausing in the doorway to watch what she was doing.

  The tension in Amalie’s body eased as she ran a finger along the spines. She felt as if she was saying hello to old friends, because each title brought back so many childhood memories. Then it hit her. Memories were all she had left. She grabbed a book without looking at the title as her eyes filled with tears, then tucked it under her arm and headed for the door.

  Nick saw tears on her cheeks. His stomach knotted. Damn, but he hated to see a woman cry. Then their gazes met, and he realized her tears did not diminish her anger.

  “Don’t ask. Don’t talk to me. Just leave me alone,” she muttered, and headed for the stairs as fast as she could walk.

  Nick followed at a slower pace, knowing there was nowhere she could go but up. By the time he got to the second floor landing, she was already in her room with the door shut. He paused outside the door to listen.

  At first he heard nothing; then the springs on the bed suddenly squeaked, followed by the muffled sound of sobbing.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. This was one seriously effed up mess.

  With Amalie safe in her room, he spun on his heel and went back down the stairs two at a time. Lou was digging through drawers in the library they’d just exited.

  “Hey!” Nick yelled. “Put that stuff down and come with me.”

  Lou pocketed the gold pen he’d found on the desk, then exited the room behind Nick as they headed for Tug’s room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Nick said. “And that’s the trouble.”

  Lou grinned. He liked conflict, and he could feel it coming.

  “I vote the two of us strike out on our own and leave the French brothers on their own.”

  “That’s not happening,�
�� Nick said, and kept on walking.

  Lou hit his fist against the side of his leg.

  “I don’t get it! Since when did you get a hard-on for the French brothers? This is our chance to get away.”

  Nick stopped and turned, catching Lou by surprise.

  “I don’t know everything,” Nick said. “But I do know that it’s a damned small world, and when you betray someone’s trust, it gets even smaller.”

  Lou frowned. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You fuck with Tug… Wayman won’t stop looking for you, that’s what that means.”

  Lou paled. “Shit.”

  “For once, just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking,” Nick said.

  Lou didn’t agree, but he wasn’t arguing. He decided to wait and see what happened before he made another judgment call.

  Nick reached the room, knocked once on the door, then walked in without waiting for permission.

  Tug was sitting up in bed. His carrot-orange hair was poking up between the bandages on his head like grass growing through the cracks on a sidewalk, and he was pale and sweaty.

  Nick grinned. “Hey, it’s good to see you sitting up. How do you feel?”

  “Like shit,” Tug said.

  “Where’s Wayman?” Nick asked.

  Tug pointed toward the closed bathroom door.

  Nick nodded.

  “Where’s the girl?” Tug asked.

  “She took a book up to her room. Said she might take a nap. She didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Yeah, and neither did anybody else,” Lou snapped.

  Tug frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She freaked out, man. Screamed her damned head off, that’s what. We all thought Nick was stickin’ it to her, then me and Wayman caught him on his mattress outside her door.”

  “She had a nightmare about the shooting,” Nick said.

  Tug rubbed a hand lightly over his head, then winced. “Whatever… Damn, my head’s killing me. Hand me another one of those pain pills, will you?”

  Nick picked up the bottle. There weren’t very many left inside.

  “When did you last have a pill?”

  Tug cursed. “Shit! I don’t know! I hurt. Give me a damned pill.”

  Nick tossed the bottle in Tug’s lap. “Help yourself. That way, if you OD, then you’ve offed yourself.”