by Nancy Gideon
Frannie, the new waitress, would work the floor under the eagle-eye of their boss, Jacques LaRoche, as he took over for her behind the bar. Young and sassy with her plated blonde hair, colorful tats and attention-grabbing figure, Fran was an immediate favorite with the patrons. Flirtatious but firm when it came to wandering hands, she hauled in tips that had her apron pockets dragging. Amber decided to like her, until her black-tipped talon nails drew a tempting line across Rico’s shoulders, and he’d smiled up at her in response.
“A prince,” Fran sighed as she drew a pitcher, her calculating assessment taking in every inch of the hunky Terriot. “He could fit me for a slipper any time.” When Amber remained silent, her gaze lifted. “Unless you’ve already staked a claim. I don’t poach on someone else’s property.”
“He’s just a friend.” Those words stuck, a fishbone in her throat. Sharp, painful and wedged for the duration until the clock freed her from the spectacle of the comely female presenting her smiles, wit and impressive boobs in front of his face at every opportunity. With Fran facing the bar, Amber couldn’t see Rico’s reaction, but the rest of the table chuckled and nudged.
After checking the drawer and grabbing her coat and purse, Amber wished her boss good night and strode quickly for the back door. Not fast enough to escape the sound of Rico’s laugh rising above those of his friends’ at something whispered into his ear.
Even Evangeline conspired against her, bubbling in her praise of the Terriot prince like a courtyard fountain. It was Rico this, Rico that, he’s so fun, he’s so cute, all codiciled with encouraging looks her way.
She’d let him go. So why couldn’t she let go? All she needed was right here in this little home she’d made for herself and her daughter. They were safe. They had each other.
Why, suddenly, wasn’t it enough?
A sudden knock startled her heart into overdrive.
Amber forced herself not to race to answer the door, certain it was Rico, because who else came to visit? She wasn't expecting to see her brother standing out in the rain.
After a long, tense pause, he smiled hopefully and asked, "Can I come in?"
Fury crackled in her tone. "Why? To make more promises you don't intend to keep?"
"I'm sorry about that, Am. I didn't mean to let you down. I got called in to work on a different shift and couldn't get out of it."
"Work? Where are you working?"
"Down on the docks."
"For how long?"
"Couple of months now, give or take," he muttered, shifting from foot to foot the way he had when he was a boy trying to slip out from under some misdeed.
"Give or take?" Amber shook her head in disbelief. "You've been in New Orleans for months, and this is the first I've heard of it?"
He shrugged against the downpour. "Can I come in? It's nasty out here."
"You might find it worse in here," she warned, but stepped aside so he could enter her kitchen.
Before Amber could prepare her, Evie came in from the living room and stopped dead. The disappointment, anger, hurt on her youthful face spoke of all her own past anguish. All the things associated with her brother.
"Hi, Uncle Augie," the girl ventured carefully.
Before he could reply with any of his nonsense, Amber cut in crisply. "Baby, your uncle and I need to talk for a minute. Could you take your homework into my room? I won't let him leave until you get to see him."
A reluctant sigh followed by a quiet, "Okay, Mama."
Once Amber heard the bedroom door close, she turned on her brother with a sharp, "Start talking, Auguste. And it better be damned good if you want to see either of us again."
He draped his wet coat over a kitchen chair and settled into it with a whipped dog hunch of shoulders. But his tone was surprisingly strong, even accusative. "You were the one who made it clear you wanted me to stay out of your life and away from my only family."
"You want to blame this on me? You stole from me, from us! Do you have any idea how difficult that made things?"
"Not as difficult as if I'd stayed." His glum statement chilled worse than any inclement weather. "I was in trouble, Am, and I couldn't bring it to your door."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Dad's kind."
The bottom fell out of her world. “Get out.”
“Amber . . .”
“No!” She shoved away his entreating hand. “You can’t bring that here. I won’t let you.”
“Amber, it’s over. Done. I got square with them. I got right. I got a good job here. I’m toeing the straight and narrow. I waited this long because I wanted to trust myself before I asked you to trust me. I need you to trust me, Am. I want my family back.”
Eyes tearing up, she said quietly, “I can’t, Augie. You’re too much like him.”
“Not any more. I swear it. I want to take care of you and that little angel in there. I want to protect you the way I couldn’t back then.”
“I take care of us. I don’t need anyone else’s promises they won’t keep.”
He sighed. “Okay. I deserve that. Will you at least let me prove that I’ve changed? I’ve been saving up to pay you back.”
“You can’t buy my forgiveness.”
He winced at her sharp tone. “No. I know that. I just . . . Will you give me the chance to earn it?”
Amber studied his features as she had on too many occasions in their shared past, searching for truth in those eager, hopeful lines, knowing they probably hid ulterior intentions. Loving him too much to deny him, knowing him too well to believe him. So, she didn’t answer. Not yet.
“You owe Evie an apology. Don’t bother trying to sweet talk her. She’s no pushover.” Not like her mother. “Evangeline,” she called. “Your uncle has something to tell you.”
His tense shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Am.”
“Don’t thank me, Augie. You break her heart, there won’t be enough left of you to make a meal for the bottom feeders in the river.”
He smiled grimly at her warning, maybe this time taking her and the situation seriously.
She listened to them talk as she put away the dinner dishes. Evangeline was a hard sell, her mother’s daughter, but in the end, her love for her uncle wore down her reasons to stay angry. Within minutes, they were laughing together as if he hadn’t broken her trust and left Rico to pick up the pieces. Mood growing less charitable, she finished tidying her small kitchen and went to the opening of the living room.
“Evie, you need to finish your homework. You’ve got an assignment due Monday, and you don’t want to spend the weekend working on it. Say good-night.”
No arguments, no fuss. Love for the girl overwhelmed her as Evie accepted her uncle’s hug. Evangeline James was no easy mark, but she was still a child, with a child’s need to be surrounded by love. Maybe hers wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it was time to allow her to open her arms a bit wider. Maybe time for both of them.
She walked her brother out. He didn’t ply her with more promises, instead, thanked her for letting him see his niece then bidding her a quiet good night as he opened the door.
Coming nose to nose with Rico Terriot on her step with his hand raised to knock.
They knew each other. That came as a surprise to her and, obviously, to her unexpected guest. A host of reactions flickered across Rico’s face too quickly to read, finally settling into that bland smile he wore to mask what he was really feeling.
“Frederick, this is my brother, Auguste.”
“Gus,” Rico repeated. “Small world.”
“Terriot.” A less friendly acknowledgement.
She glanced between them, trying to get a handle on the strained dynamics. “How do you know each other?”
“From work,” Augie supplied, gaze narrowing as he challenged Rico with a terse, “And you two?”
“From work,” Amber answered quickly, not sure what Rico would claim. Not wishing for any drama, she added, “He’s a friend, one who stepped in when you left Evi
e in a lurch.”
“That so.” Augie’s drawl edged with tension.
“That’s so.” Rico’s smile widened as his eyes narrowed. “In fact, I really came to see her, if that’s okay.” His attention jumped to Amber, forcing her to quickly hide her disappointment.
“Go ahead. She’s in the living room.”
He nodded to her bristling brother and eased by them without another word. Evangeline’s delighted squeal of his name had Augie’s teeth grinding.
“Terriot?”
Amber glared at the insinuation in his tone. “Is my business and none of yours. Good night, Auguste.”
He clearly didn’t like being pushed out of her house, his gaze flashing beyond her to where another male and his niece were laughing together.
“You be careful with him. He’s a Terriot. Their kind is only after the obvious.”
Her hard shove sent him stumbling off the steps as she shut the door between them and his nasty insinuations.
She crossed the kitchen, part of her wishing her brother was right. If the Terriot prince was after meaningless sex, she’d oblige him happily and let him go on his way. But standing at the edge of the living room, watching him and her daughter—their heads together in some conspiring whispers that excluded her—provided a shock of knowledge.
Rico Terriot didn’t want a relationship with her. He wanted to be part of her family.
His gaze lifted suddenly, catching hers, holding it as a small smile tugged at his lips. He stood, leaning down to bump Evangeline’s brow with his own, whispering, “See you tomorrow, kiddo. Don’t worry about a thing. You got this.”
Evie gave him a look that melted her mother’s heart. “Thanks, Rico.”
He winked. “Any time.”
Holding her ground in the doorway arch as the gorgeous Terriot approached, Amber called out, “Get ready for bed, Ev. Tomorrow’s a busy day.”
“Okay, Mama. Goodnight, Rico.”
Rico paused to waggle his fingers her way. “Sweet dreams.”
Then it was just the two of them.
Again, that small, soft smile warmed the gold of his eyes with sparks of green and blue. Amber couldn’t look away as he came toe-to-toe with her. So close he probably heard the sweat break on the palms of abruptly shaky hands. She clutched at the hem of her pullover.
“You’ve got a great kid.”
“I know. She likes you, and she’s very discriminating.”
“Yeah?” The smile eased into a devastating grin.
Because she was dangerously close to doing something else she’d regret, Amber blurted, “Fran likes you, too.”
He blinked. “Who?”
“Fran, from the club. You two were hitting it off when I left. She’s a nice girl.”
His stare never left hers. “I’m sure she is. But I’m not interested in her.”
“Oh?” That single word quavered as fragilely as her hopes.
His hand rose, fingertips sketching lightly down the curve of her cheek. “My interests are engaged elsewhere.”
His kiss brushed whisper-soft over surprise-slackened lips. Before she could gather her wits to react, he leaned back to offer an oh, so sexy crooked smile.
“You have sweet dreams, too.” The tip of his tongue teased between his teeth. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He slipped out before Amber could react. Tremors jellied her knees, forcing her to drop onto a hard kitchen chair. She sat numbly, staring at the closed door, sucking her lips in to savor his taste.
How the hell was she supposed to sleep now?
* * * * *
Feeling pretty damned smug, Rico stepped out into the cold drizzle to unhook his helmet from his bike.
“What do you want from my sister?”
Stabbed by that hard demand in the dark, he turned slowly to regard Auguste Whatever His Last Name Was but It Wasn’t James with a thin smile and a stare like switchblades. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Rico almost laughed but there was no humor in the other fellow’s bold glare. He could have said they were just friends, but he’d be lying to the both of them.
“That’s none of your business. If it was, you’d have been taking care of it, not sneaking off like the thief you were four years ago.”
Instead of denying it, Gus drew up into an even more aggressive stance. “Well, I’m here now, and I don’t much like someone like you sniffing around her door.”
Rico flashed his teeth. “Like me?”
“There’s only one thing a Terriot prince would want from someone like my sister.”
“Oh, I think I’m gonna want you to spell that out for me, slick, but you’d better think on your words real carefully before you throw them in my face and spit on your sister’s name. Because if you do that, I’ll have to kill you. Or at least break something.”
“Consider that threat returned if that something broken is her heart. She doesn’t need a man like you in her life.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know what you are. Your kind is only known for two things, taking what you want whenever you want and thinking no one can stop you. Maybe I can’t stop you, but I sure as hell can get in your way.”
Rico sighed. “Get in my way tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to go home, put some ice on my head and some in a glass with a really good Scotch. In the morning, we’ll pick this up again. And after we have that discussion, if you have anything else to say to me then, if you can still form words, I’ll be sure to listen.”
Chewing on his fury, Auguste watched the Terriot prince calmly strap on his helmet and kick a roar from his big bike, spitting gravel as he sped down the street.
He wanted to hate the sonuvabitch for what he’d said, but knowing the words were true, he couldn’t. He’d run, leaving his sister and niece to face the possible blunt end of his actions, so who was he to criticize Rico Terriot. Terriot, who could provide them in an instant with what he never could over a lifetime.
He tugged up the collar of his coat and started walking toward the Quarter where he’d found a closet-sized single room with a bath he shared with those questionable tenants on his floor. Temporary. Just like his low circumstances. Soon, his sister wouldn’t have to look to someone like Terriot for rescue. He’d be there, as he once should have been, to take her away from the stress and misery of her life.
Smiling grimly, he trudged around the corner toward the open stairs that led to his room, walking into a solid, four knuckled object that sent him sprawling on the dirty stones.
As his world pinwheeled in dots of color against engulfing black, he heard a low, menacing growl.
“There you are, you little worm. Time to pay some dues.”
Chapter 9
Rico regarded the restless group, reading resentment, boredom and irritation rubbing over a strong foundation of dislike. He hadn’t expected the New Orleans Shifters to like him, but he’d hoped for a bit of that shock and awe from the first day to hold them together until he taught them what they needed to know to survive. Maybe he was too arrogant, too uncertain of his role as teacher to claim their admiration. They didn’t have to like him to learn from him, but they did have to respect him to place value on what he shared.
Okay, so he wasn’t great at speeches. Time for an impressive visual aid.
One by one, they noticed the stranger in the room, standing silently in the shadows, attention lingering there instead of on their instructor as he stepped in front of them.
“What’s our greatest advantage as a fighter?”
They stared at him blankly for an uncomfortable beat. Finally, Donny offered, “Strength.”
“Good, but not enough.”
“Skill,” T-Ray added.
“Also good, but a lot of strong, skilled fighters find themselves on their backs crying uncle. Right?”
T-Ray flushed as a snicker ran through the group. They’d heard of the brawler’s defeat by a scrappy little guy who’d wiped the floor up with h
im.
A voice drawled from the back. “Are you going tell us the secret, or do we have to send you $29.95 plus shipping and handling?”
Rico’s gaze narrowed, but he smiled as the others laughed over Auguste’s comment. “Naw, the lesson’s free if you’re smart enough to learn from it. I’ll give you a little demonstration, then let’s see which of you dock dogs can figure out what’s going to save your lives.”
Before amusement at his expense turned ugly, Rico stripped off his sweat jacket to bare his chest. Hard muscle swelled his shoulders and brutally corrugated his long, tapering torso. Numerous scars spoke of brutal training, his body a weapon as deadly as the pair of staffs he picked up from the table. He brought them down behind his head, squaring them along his traps to delineate his impressive physique.
“This is strength.”
As he gestured for his visitor to come forward, he flung one of the bows his way. It was plucked deftly from the air, spun through a series of loops and figure eights before jabbing his way like a lance. Rico didn’t flinch as its tip stilled a scant inch from his nose.
“That’s skill.”
When the newcomer removed his jacket, revealing a bristle of dark, russet-colored hair and a single large diamond earring, they knew they were about to be schooled by two Terriot princes. He twirled the bow in lazy loops then struck a fierce en guard pose. And without a word the two brothers engaged with a crack of wood on wood.
In a deadly dance so evenly matched it almost appeared choreographed, the Terriot warriors circled and clashed, each strike intercepted, every parry held. None of the movements were pulled. Had any blow landed, the power behind it was bone-shattering.
With focus so intense, they might have been alone in the room until a firm voice called out, "Elbows in, Row. Mated life is making you sloppy."
Surprised, Rico broke form, turning toward the speaker. If his brother's moves had indeed been careless, the quickly checked swing would have taken off his head.
"My king!" Rico went to one knee, staff squared on the floor in front of him, other fist going to the wolf's head tattoo over his heart as his head bowed.
"Get up," Cale Terriot insisted. "You know I hate that."
