buried his face against her.
As her vision adjusted and the roaring in her ears subsided, the shouts began to make sense, and she wished they hadn’t.
Gray had hauled Amos out of bed and was dragging him into the kitchen. Amos was yelling and swearing, grabbing at the doorframe in an effort to halt Gray’s momentum. He was no match for the young man’s enraged strength, however, and could only scramble for balance as Gray shoved him toward the center of the room.
"Where’s Renee?" Gray barked, looming threateningly over Amos, who shrank back.
Amos’s rheumy eyes darted around the room, as if looking for his wife. "Not here," he mumbled.
"I can see she isn’t here, you stupid bastard! I want to know where in hell she is!"
Amos weaved back and forth on his bare feet, and suddenly belched. He was bare-chested, his pants still gaping open. His uncombed hair stood out in all directions, he was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot, and his breath foul with sleep and drink. In contrast, Gray towered over him, six feet four of lean, steely muscle, his black hair neatly brushed back, his white shirt spotless and his slacks hand-tailored to fit him.
"You ain’t got no call to be shovin’ me around, I don’t care who your daddy is," Amos complained. Despite his bluster, he cowered back every time Gray moved.
Russ and Nicky had crowded out of their bedroom, but they made no move to back their father. Facing down a raging Gray Rouillard wasn’t their style; attacking anyone who could cause them trouble wasn’t their style.
"Do you know where Renee is?" Gray asked again, his voice icy.
Amos hitched one shoulder. "Must’ve gone out," he mumbled sullenly.
"When?"
"Whaddaya mean, when? I was in bed. How in hell would I know what time she left?"
"Did she come home last night?"
"Course she did! Gawddammit, what’re you sayin’?"
Amos yelled, the slur in his words testimony to the alcohol still in his blood.
"I’m saying your whore of a wife has left!" Gray yelled back, his dark face twisted with rage, his neck corded.
Pure terror sliced through Faith, and her vision blurred again. "No," she gasped.
Gray heard her, and his head snapped around. His dark eyes were glittering with fury as they raked over her. "You look sober, at least. Do you know where Renee is? Did she come home last night?"
Numbly Faith shook her head. Black disaster loomed in front of her, and her nostrils were filled with the sharp, yellow, acrid smell of fear… her own.
His upper lip curled, showing strong white teeth in a snarl. "I didn’t think so. She’s run away with my father."
Faith shook her head again, and then couldn’t seem to stop it from wagging. No. The word reverberated through her brain. God, please, no.
"You’re lyin’!" Amos yelled, tottering toward the rickety table and sagging into one of the chairs. "Renee wouldn’t leave me and our kids. She loves me. Your whore-hoppin’ pa’s out with some new piece he’s found – "
Gray lunged forward like a snake striking. His fist connected with Amos’s jaw, knuckles smashing against bone, and both Amos and the chair crashed to the floor. The chair splintered into kindling beneath him.
With a terrified wail, Scottie burrowed his face harder against Faith’s hip. She was too frozen to even put a comforting arm around his shoulders, and he began to cry.
Amos groggily scrambled up from the floor, and staggered to put the table between him and Gray. "Why’d you hit me?" he whined, holding his jaw. "I ain’t done nothin’ to you. Whatever Renee and your pa done, it ain’t my fault!"
"What’s all the yellin’ about?" came Jodie’s deliberately sultry voice, the one she put on whenever she was trying to entice a man. Faith looked toward the entrance to the lean-to, and her eyes widened with horror. Jodie posed against the doorframe, her uncombed reddish blond hair tossed back over her bare shoulders. She wore only a pair of red lace panties, and demurely held the matching