Chapter 53

He was the best I was going to get.

With that statement rolling around in his skull, irritation pounding his temples, Nakos stared at Amy, waiting for her to break. He knew her better than anyone. Too much tense silence, and she'd crack. It was just a matter of time.

Shadows from the trees created havoc with the moonlight on her alabaster skin. Her dark cocoa hair swept past her shoulders, and he had the damnedest itch to shove his hands in the strands and force her to look at him. Since dancing with her inside, she'd yet to glance at him more than fleetingly and that, more than what she'd said, had concern sinking its claws deep.

Arms crossed, he shook his head. This wasn't her. The defeat in her shoulders, the sad curve of her lips, the lack of spark in her mermaid eyes...Not his Ames. Where was her fire? Where was the woman who could argue him into a corner and make him heel? She exuded confidence like most people did pheromones.

Except... No. Not lately. Ever since the incident with the Antichrist, she'd been a sunken version of the pistol he recognized. Actually, her behavior dated farther back to when Chris had come onto the scene. But not to this extent. Hell, Nakos swore she had no fight left.

Having been raised by two nurturing, attentive parents, combined with the fact both his best friends were females, he'd learned a thing or fifty. Foremost, how to love. Not to shy away from sentiment or attachment, but to embrace it. He only had one shot at this fragile thing called life and he wasn't going to spend it steeped in regret, too afraid to tell the people he cared about how he felt.

He'd also figured out how to read every nuance and gauge what the girls needed because what they said with their bodies often contradicted their words. Being close to them had cultivated his protective gene until it encompassed his DNA. Olivia and Amy. Them first, always. And those instincts were coming out of temporary dormancy to rattle his already frail cage.

She stood in front of him, so near he could breathe in her light perfume, and didn't open her pretty little mouth. How many times had he wished for her to shut up, and fate chose right this second to listen?

One of them needed to cave. May as well be him.

"You didn't really mean that, did you?" Please, Hihcebe, let that be the case. If not, that bastard had done more damage than Nakos thought. "You deserve so much better than him."

Her only response was to wearily close her eyes.

Something was very wrong. Realization bristled his skin, dropped a heavy ball of ice in his gut. If she thought all she deserved was that...guy, then there had been an issue prior to her dating and subsequently marrying him. What the hell was Nakos missing? Because he was at a loss.

"Look at me." He waited until her lids lifted and resisted the urge to hug her. They didn't touch often, didn't have that kind of relationship. "There is no convincing me the best person to spend your life with was him. A man who spoke to you as if you were a thing, who dared to raise a..." Mercy, he could kill just thinking about it. Amy had sworn up and down that one instance was the only time Chris had hit her. "I can't erase that day from my memory."

"I know." She nodded. Finally, a flicker of anger infused her eyes. "Because Olivia was in danger."

Hell to the no. His body went so rigid he thought he'd snap. No way, no how did she think she didn't matter as much to him. The notion had never crossed his consciousness. But...shit.

"Yes, Olivia was in danger. You both were." He slammed his palms to the wall above her head, trying and failing to dial back the assault of conflicting emotion. Anger for what that asshole had done. Fear that something terrible would happen to two people he loved. And, most shocking, grief that he hadn't suspected Amy doubted that love.

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt, Nakos."

He needed a stiff drink. With a side of straightjacket. "Do you have any idea what seeing you like that did to me?" His fingers curled against the boards, paint digging under his nails. "Finding you on the ground, mottled with bruises, barely able to open your eyes..."

Don't let go... Please, Nakos. Just don't let go.

A growl raked his throat.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as if attempting to make up her mind whether she believed him. And a bone-deep, narcissistic cold settled so deep inside him that the frozen tendrils wove around muscle and penetrated his veins.

The fact she doubted him in any capacity was a death blow. Somewhere along the way, he'd failed her. Completely unacceptable. Especially considering the source. Olivia had nearly her whole family wiped out, but she was trusting. Caring. A light in the dark. Amy was the total opposite. She had blood relations, right here in town, yet they discarded her time and time again. She didn't let just anyone in and her first instincts were to erect walls. She was the darkness.

Since this conversation was getting him nowhere, he tried a different approach. "Why are you staying with Kyle? Olivia won't like it. And you don't belong there." Which had nothing to do with the workers who lived in the cabins and everything to do with comfort. Not only was there no room, but no privacy.

"I don't belong anywhere." Though she held his gaze with determination and she'd used her I-eat-cute-and-fuzzy-bunnies-for-breakfast tone, the ever so slight tremble of her lower lip gave her away.

Before he could even think to counter that, shoes crunched over gravel to their right. Kyle strode around the corner and gave them the hairy eyeball. "There a problem?"

Several. Hell, problems were accumulating by the bucketful and their ship was going down. Regardless, Nakos took a breath. "We're fine. Give us a minute."

"No can do. Olivia's looking for you inside." His gaze darted between them like he'd interrupted a situation no brother wanted to find his sister in.

Exactly what Nakos didn't need right now. He shoved off the wall and pointed at Amy. "Don't go anywhere. We're not done."

In response, she bent over, slipped the remaining heel off her foot, and straightened. Brows raised in challenge, she dangled the shoe in a clear catch-me-if-you-can, and unceremoniously dropped it to the ground.

Hihcebe. There wasn't enough single malt in Wyoming to go toe-to-toe with her.

He followed her brother into the barn and stopped just inside the doorway, grabbing the guy's arm. "What does Olivia want me for?"

"Garter toss, I think."

What, in all creation, did he do to deserve this? "Amy said she's bunking with you tonight?"

"Yeah, though I have no idea where." Kyle crossed his arms, looking like a younger image of his sister with less 'tude. "Tupperware's bigger than my room and I only have a twin. Which, by the way, she refuses to take. I'm certain she's going to wind up under the bed."

Over Nakos's dead body. "Listen, grab two of the men and head up to the main house. I want everything in her room packed up in one hour and at my place." He dug in his jeans for the keys, passing them to Kyle. "Upstairs, second door on the right is the guestroom. Put all her stuff in there."

"Okay," Kyle said slowly. "You know, the parental units are gonna flip. They weren't exactly jumping for joy when they learned she was staying with"

"I don't give a good goddamn. Do it. And," he leaned forward, hands on his hips, "you will not inform her of this little mission. Get in, get out, and return my keys."

"Whatever you say, man." The blasé response belied the appreciation in the guy's eyes. "Consider it done."

Taking a moment to breathe, Nakos glanced at his boots. Music and laughter echoed through the space, ricocheting around in his ears. Why the hell did it seem like his foundation had been leveled?

"Nakos."

He glanced at Olivia across the room, and her smile settled some of the riot in his head. "I'm coming." Begrudgingly.

Thirty minutes later, he wished he'd run the other way when he'd been summoned. With Olivia on Nakos's lap, Nate had taken off her garter with a flourish and, instead of making the single guys stand around to toss the thing, the soldier had just handed it to Nakos and nodded. Then came the bouquet what-the-heck-ever, for which he had no clue why his presence was necessary. Back slaps and handshakes followed him to the barn exit.

No way had Amy waited for him, but he checked the spot anyhow. The only thing that remained was her shoe and the grating reminder of their conversation. Cinderella, indeed.

Since he didn't have his keys, taking his truck over to the staff cabins was out. Not unless he wanted to walk miles and eat up half the night. There was no guarantee that's where she'd headed, either. Hopefully, she hadn't wandered up to the main house. She didn't have much by way of possessions, but the men wouldn't be done packing her things yet. Then again, if she had gone that way, she might have them hog-tied and shaking with the fear of God.

He strode in the direction of Olivia's. It was as good a place to start as any. But halfway there, motion in his peripheral stopped him short.

Turning, he spotted Amy between the third barn and the cemetery. About fifty yards away, an oak crested a slight hill. Dangling from a sturdy branch was an old tire swing that had been there since they were kids. It was so dark he could barely make her out, but that blue dress she wore and her cocoa strands in the breeze were a dead giveaway.

Walking closer, he was struck by the past colliding with the present. The first time he'd met her, she'd been on that very swing and, just as she was now, leaning back while her soft hair cascaded in a waterfall, ends brushing the grass. She was alone at the moment, but that day Olivia had been standing beside her.

Funny, he'd forgotten he'd laid eyes on Amy first. Something about the fragile curve of her spine contradicted the hearty, almost sensual laugh she'd emitted. From the get-go, he'd been enamored by Olivia's auburn strands that were so unlike the characteristics of Arapaho on the reservation. Looking back on it, his reaction had been close to hypnotizing.

But Amy? She'd rendered a physical response that, even at age nine, he'd recognized as awareness. A cross between an improper heartbeat and tightness in his throat. Curiosity, he supposed. He had no idea what label to slap on it now.