Swept Aside Page 4

  “What about just boosting another car?” Lou asked.

  “Didn’t see a car anywhere in the front, but we can look later. First things first,” Nick said.

  “Right. First things first,” Wayman echoed, and dragged his brother to his feet. “Tug! Hey, Tug! Come on, bro…you can make it. Nick found us a place to lay low.”

  Tug’s eyes were glazed as he staggered forward. Normally he was a very big man—almost as tall and wide as his younger brother—but right now, weighed down by his injuries and exhaustion, he didn’t look much bigger than Lou. The makeshift bandage Nick had put around Tug’s head hours earlier was soaked with sweat and blood, and his skin was ashen.

  “Follow me,” Nick said, and led the way, with Wayman and Tug right behind him.

  Lou brought up the rear, pissed about the situation but with no suggestions as to how to change it. Less than thirty minutes later, they had reached the property.

  “Son of a bitch! Would you look at that!” Lou said, staring wide-eyed at the mansion. “I’ll bet they’re loaded.”

  He started toward the house, taking long, hurried strides without care that they might be seen.

  Nick started to call him back, then realized there was no way to get there without being seen except to wait until dark—and that wasn’t an option.

  “You think it will be all right?” Wayman asked.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Nick said, and then increased his stride to catch up to Lou, leaving Wayman and Tug to follow.

  To Nick’s relief, they crossed the grounds without being confronted, and when they reached the front steps, Lou ran up onto the porch and already had his hand on the door when Nick grabbed him by the arm.

  “Wait, damn it!”

  Lou yanked free but stepped back, impatiently watching the French brothers’ progress. Wayman was bearing almost all of Tug’s weight as they neared the house. When they started up the steps, Nick ran down and helped steady Tug.

  As Amalie started down the main hall, double-checking that she was all set to get through a night without power, she heard voices, then the sounds of footsteps running across the front veranda. Curious, she moved to the living room and peered between the curtains. Expecting to see some of her neighbors, she was startled by the sight of four strange men.

  A tall, dark-haired man with several days’ worth of whiskers seemed to be arguing with a shorter, bald-headed man. Another man, a redhead, was leaning against one of the columns with a bloody bandage around his head. The man who was propping him up was also a redhead and massive, both in build and height. It was obvious from their soaked-through appearance that they’d been caught in the storm. Thinking they’d come looking for help, she opened the door. “Hello?”

  The men looked up in unison at the sound of a woman’s voice.

  Nick caught a brief glimpse of a young woman with short dark hair and almond-shaped, cat-green eyes. She looked pale and uncertain, but there was a smile on her face. Before he could blurt out an explanation for their arrival and appearance, Lou quickly spoiled the plan.

  “Hot damn, would you look at that!” he cried, and leaped toward her.

  “Lou, wait!” Nick yelled, but it was too late.

  Amalie panicked as she slammed the door. Why had she opened the door like that? She knew better. Her heart was pounding, and her hands were trembling as she tried to shut the door, but it wouldn’t close. When she realized the man had jammed his foot in the door, she screamed, “Go away! Please…go away!”

  “No way, bitch!” Lou’s look was predatory.

  Amalie cringed. She didn’t have the strength to hold the door much longer, and it was four against one. Her only hope was to get out of the house. Maybe she could outrun them and hide in the swamp.

  God help me.

  She let go of the door and bolted toward the back of the house as fast as she could go.

  Lou had been pushing hard against the door, and when she suddenly let go he fell inward, landing with a jarring thump on his hands and knees, biting his tongue.

  “Son of a bitch!” he yelped, spitting blood as he scrambled to his feet. “She’s gonna pay for that.”

  Nick rushed in, angrily grabbing Lou’s arm.

  “You idiot! Why did you have to scare her?”

  Lou yanked free. “She’s mine! I saw her first!” he cried and gave chase.

  Nick knew his only chance to keep the situation from getting worse was to get to her before Lou did. At six-four, his stride was double that of the shorter man. He hurdled a sofa, outrunning Lou before they were out of the living room, then dashed across a narrow hall and through the doorway where he’d seen her disappear.

  Moments later he entered a huge kitchen and saw her on the other side of the room, standing at the door, fumbling with a lock. Increasing his speed, he caught her just as the door swung inward, grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, unaware that the grimace he saw on her face was one of pain, not fear.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I know you don’t understand, but you can trust me. Please trust me. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  It was all he had time to say before the other three burst into the room, still arguing and shouting.

  Amalie felt herself losing focus and knew she going into shock. In her mind, it was the shooting all over again, only now there were four men trying to hurt her, not one. She covered her ears, trying to block out the shouting, but it didn’t seem to help. The floor was beginning to tilt, and then the sounds were fading around her.

  Suddenly Lou knocked a thick crockery bowl off the counter. It hit the floor with a loud crack, then burst into dozens of pieces.

  In Amalie’s mind, it was the gunshot she’d been waiting for. She dropped to the floor, rolled up into a ball and started screaming.

  “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Please, God…don’t shoot me again!”

  Her screams silenced them. When she started rolling back and forth, muttering and weeping, even Lou took a step back. He wanted a piece of ass in the worst way, but he didn’t want anything to do with a bitch who was off her rocker.

  Nick felt sick. Whatever was going on with this woman, they had just made it worse. He hit Lou’s chest with the flats of both hands.

  “Get your ass to the other side of the room and stay there!”

  Lou balked. “I don’t have to—”

  Wayman grabbed him by the throat and slammed him up against the wall. “Do what Nick said.”

  It was the hand at his throat that got Lou’s attention. Wayman had already threatened him once today, and Lou wasn’t brave enough to even pretend to challenge him twice.

  Satisfied Lou was momentarily penned, Nick re turned his attention to the woman, who had crawled into a corner against the wall and curled back up into a ball.

  Sorry for what was happening, he squatted down beside her. This was all his fault. He’d brought them into her life. But what was it she’d said?—“Don’t shoot me again”? What the hell was up with that?

  He moved a little closer, then rocked back on his heels. She was slim to the point of frail, with a translucent cast to her skin—like someone who’d been inside too long. He wanted to touch her but was afraid of making things worse.

  “Hey…lady…we don’t mean you any harm. My name is Nick Aroyo. That’s Wayman French and his brother, Tug. Tug got hurt in the tornado, and we were just looking for help and shelter. Lou is the jackass who scared you, and I promise he won’t do it again. We didn’t think anyone was here. I’m sorry we frightened you.”

  Amalie heard him, but she wouldn’t look up, and she didn’t believe him. She kept waiting for more guns to go off and the blood to fly.

  When she didn’t react to what he’d said, Nick scooted closer and held out his hand.

  “Come on. Let me help you up.”

  “Get away! Don’t touch me!” she cried.

  “Lady, look at me,” Nick said. “It will be okay.”

  Amalie flin
ched, but the words sank in. She uncoiled herself from the corner and ventured a glance.

  One of the men was on his knees beside her. He had a stubble of black beard, a gold earring in one ear, a square jaw, and the blackest eyes she’d ever seen. She felt pinned by his presence and the force of his stare, and needed to put some space between them.

  She took a slow, deep breath and then made her self focus. Shelter. They wanted help—and shelter. Then her gaze slid to the man who’d tried to attack her. Lou. They’d called him Lou. She didn’t care what this Nick said. She didn’t trust Lou. She didn’t trust any of them.

  “I need you to move back, please,” she mumbled.

  Nick stood up and stepped back.

  Amalie pushed herself up to her feet, then suddenly swayed.

  Thinking she was about to pass out, Nick grabbed for her shoulder to steady her.

  Pain ran down her arm and all the way to her teeth. She cried out and lurched sideways.

  “Ow…God…let go! Let go,” she begged, and hunched forward to ease the spasm rippling through her body.

  Nick yanked his hand away, but it was obviously too late. Somehow he’d hurt her, though he hadn’t meant to.

  “I’m sorry. What happened? What did I do?”

  Doubled over with pain, she began to sob. This couldn’t be happening. Please, God, she begged silently, let me wake up now.

  Wayman saw the way she was cradling her arm.

  “It’s her arm, Nick. Hey, lady…what’s wrong with you?”

  From across the room, Lou chimed in. “What’s the matter, bitch? Cat got your tongue?”

  Amalie flinched as if she’d been slapped.

  Bitch? He’d called her a bitch?

  So the nightmare was real. She’d tried escaping, but that hadn’t worked out. Maybe being congenial would save her.

  “My shoulder…it’s still healing,” she whispered.

  “From what? Your old man rough you up?” Lou asked.

  Nick spun, pointing a finger at the smaller man. “Shut up. You shut the hell up.”

  Amalie gasped. This man was so tall, and the anger in his voice was frightening. Still cradling her arm, she moved farther into the corner. But when he turned back to her, the tone of his voice shifted to one of concern—even kindness—which made no sense.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Amalie Pope.”

  Nick nodded, repeating her name. “Ah-mah-lee…that’s a beautiful name. So, Amalie, were you in an accident?”

  She shook her head.

  “No. I was shot.”

  It was the last thing he’d expected to hear. All of a sudden she’d moved from nameless female to a person who’d experienced some of the worst life had to offer.

  Nick felt like he’d been kicked in the gut.

  Son of a bitch…what were the odds of finding someone in such a fragile condition here?

  He was reminded that it was his fault they were here. If only he’d checked the place out better before he’d led them here, none of this would be happening. He was trying to wrap his mind around where she could have been to get herself shot when Lou came out and asked.

  “Who shot you?”

  Nick saw her eyes go flat; then she started trembling.

  “A student where I used to teach. It was the evening of the high school graduation. A lot of people were hurt. Some of them died. I was one of the lucky ones.”

  “Hell! I heard about that!” Wayman cried, eyeing her with something akin to sympathy. “In Oklahoma, right?”

  “No. It was Texas. Jasper, Texas,” Nick said softly, remembering the story he’d read over a month earlier. Remembering the photo. “They said you were a hero. You took a bullet meant for one of the kids.”

  Tug was in so much pain he could hardly think. The room kept going in and out of focus to the point that he could barely see the woman’s face, but he’d been shot before and had gleaned enough of what she’d said to empathize.

  “Leave her alone,” he said, pointing in Amalie’s direction. “Don’t nobody mess with her. Just get her car keys and some food, and we’ll be gone.”

  Amalie’s heart sank as she realized she couldn’t furnish what they needed.

  “Um, my keys won’t do you any good,” she said, and pointed out the window.

  When the men saw the car and the enormous limb that had fallen across it, they realized their immediate plan for escape had just been detoured.

  “Son of a bitch!” Lou cried, and turned on her. “Don’t you have something else to drive?”

  Amalie shivered. “No.”

  “You got a husband who’s gonna show up here around dark?”

  She wished she could say yes. It would be comforting to know she wasn’t in this alone. But there was no use lying. Time would inevitably prove her wrong.

  “No. No one. My grandmother used to live here by herself, but she died while I was in the hospital. I inherited the property and just got here today.”

  Nick groaned inwardly. Their timing couldn’t have been worse. He didn’t want to consider revealing his true identity, but he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. However, if it came to that, he would need to be sure she wouldn’t give him away. As desperate as these three were, they would kill both of them in a heartbeat to save themselves.

  “Please,” Amalie said. “Take what you need…food…my money…anything…just leave.”

  “So you call the cops the minute we walk off? What do you take us for?” Lou asked.

  Amalie flinched. “The power is off. The phones don’t work. I guess the storm knocked out service.”

  Nick sighed. This just kept getting worse and worse.

  “It wasn’t just a storm, it was a tornado,” he said. “It went right down the middle of Bordelaise.”

  Amalie gasped. “Oh, no! I had no idea!”

  All of a sudden Tug swayed, then dropped to the floor, unconscious.

  “Tug! Tug!” Way screamed, and went down on his knees in an effort to rouse him.

  Amalie groaned. Now they couldn’t even leave on foot. The only thing she could do was try to ease the situation and hope they felt enough gratitude not to hurt her.

  “There’s a bedroom on the ground floor,” she said. “If you can carry him, I’ll show you the way.”

  Nick and Wayman got Tug on his feet and followed Amalie out of the kitchen. She led them through a maze of rooms and corridors until she finally came to a stop at the end of a long hallway.

  “In here,” she said, as she hurried inside the room and turned down the bedspread.

  She wouldn’t let herself think about that bloody, dirty man on Nonna’s clean white sheets.

  They laid Tug down, pulled off his boots and then took the bandage off his head. It was still oozing blood.

  “This needs stitches,” Nick said.

  “Then sew him up,” Wayman said.

  Amalie shuddered. This just kept getting worse.

  “Where’s Lou?” Nick asked. “He had the sack with the first aid supplies.”

  Amalie looked out into the hall.

  “I don’t see him,” she said.

  “That’s not good,” Nick muttered, then pointed at Amalie. “Stay here. Way won’t hurt you. I’ll be right back.”

  Amalie darted a nervous look at the redheaded giant who was hovering over his brother’s bed and decided not to argue the point.

  “Uh…what was your name again?”

  “Wayman. They call me Way. This is my older brother, Tug.”

  She nodded. “Okay, Way, see that bathroom?” She pointed to an adjoining door. “I’m going to go in there and get some stuff to clean your brother up a little. It will make him more comfortable. If you’re going to…uh…do something to his injuries, they need to be clean.”

  “I thought you said the power wasn’t on. How you gonna get water without electricity?”

  “There are a few bottles of water under the counter. Nonna…my grandmother kept them for g
uests.”

  He frowned, then strode across the room and shoved the door open, making sure she hadn’t been lying. As she’d said, it was a bathroom—and with no window or a way to escape.

  “Yeah. All right,” he said, and went back to his brother’s bedside as she went inside and began gathering washcloths, a couple of bath towels, some alcohol, soap and a packet of gauze pads. She carried everything to the bed, then went back in for the water. There were a half dozen bottles under the cabinet—enough to fill a basin. She carried them out into the bedroom, then started toward the door.

  Wayman looked up, then frowned and started toward her.

  “What are you doing?”

  Amalie shuddered as he approached, then pointed shakily to the ewer and basin on the old dresser top.

  “I’m just getting this basin to pour the water in, okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

  Amalie’s heart was pounding as she carried the basin back to the bed table. With shaking hands, she unscrewed the lids and emptied the water into the basin, then began to clean Tug French’s face.

  All the while, she kept looking over her shoulder, waiting for Nick Aroyo’s return. It didn’t make sense to trust any of them, but he’d promised he wouldn’t let them hurt her, and until she had proof that he was lying, it was all that was keeping her sane.

  Nick went through more than half the rooms on the ground floor before he found Lou in the library going through a desk. His pockets were bulging, and he was about to lift another piece of loot when Nick walked in.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Lou looked up, then grinned. “This house is full of valuables. I got a friend in Savannah who’ll fence ’em for me.”

  Nick wanted to deck him where he stood, but he couldn’t object to everything Lou kept doing. That would be bound to raise suspicion. If he could just keep the man away from Amalie, he would be satisfied.

  “What? You gotta do all that now?” Nick asked. “We aren’t going anywhere for a while. Put the damn stuff down and come help. We’re gonna have to sew up Tug’s head, and if he wakes up, it’s going to take all of us to hold him down.”