the dynamics around him were unfriendly. Until she had him safely back in the home and Marshallâs name removed from the list of visitors, she had to play the game.
âWould you like something to eat?â Marshall asked.
âNo, thank you.â
âReally? Iâm sure you and your new husband worked up quite an appetite last night,â he said, not bothering to hide the disdain on his face.
She narrowed her gaze. âHow did you know about that?â She thought sheâd lost J.R.
âThe same way I knew about the money. J.R. was keeping an eye on you and heâs good at his job. Youâre not just my meal ticket, Amber. I care about you and I promised your father Iâd look after you. Didnât I, Sam?â
Amber didnât look at him. Whenever sheâd thought of getting married, sheâd always imagined her father walking her down the aisle of a beautiful church, packed with family and friends. Not a quickie Las Vegas ceremony. Ironically, it wasnât the lack of frills that bothered her, it was the seedy way Marshall made her actions sound in front of her only parent. That and the fact that Sam couldnât have been there, but sheâd come to terms with his illness. She just resented Marshallâs using him as a pawn in his game.
âIâm not hungry, so letâs get on with it. I brought what you want. Now Iâd like to take my father back to the home.â She placed the white bag on the table and rose.
âNot so fast,â Marshall said, ice in his voice. âYour father is still eating. Is it good?â he asked Sam in a softer tone.
Amber wasnât fooled. Marshall obviously had more on his mind than her fatherâs meal.
âBesides, Iâm not finished with you yet,â he added coldly, proving her hunch correct.
Her stomach rolled, but she refused to let her panic show. She lowered herself back into her seat. âYou got your money. What else could you possibly want?â
âYou. Me. One more game.â
She shook her head. âOh, no. I already told you Iâm out.â Her voice rose to an unsettling pitch.
âYou made my favorite meat loaf tonight?â Sam interrupted, from beside her. But he wasnât talking to Amber.
He was talking to Amberâs mother, the woman he loved, and the days he returned to when he spoke at all. At times like this, he was having what the nurses called a bad day. Somethingâor in this case someoneâhad rattled him.
âItâs pasta,â Amber said in a soothing voice.
She shot a frosty glare at Marshall.
âIt was your tone that got to him. Donât blame me.â He held up both hands as if he had done nothing wrong.
Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth to keep the vile words inside her from spilling forward.
âOne more job,â Marshall said pleasantly. âThat hundred and fifty grand is my stake. I owe some nasty men two-fifty. Once I pay that back and I knowmy legs and other body parts will remain intact, you can go and never see me again.â
She should only be so lucky. âAnd if I refuse?â
He patted Samâs hand. âYour dad and I go for a ride.â He leaned in closer to Amber and whispered in her ear, âAnd you never see him again.â
Amber knew she was cornered. But she wasnât giving up without going for whatever she could, first.
She snatched the money bag back. âHalf now and half before we buy in tonight. I want to get my father situated and safe first.â Sheâd have to find another nursing home, she thought. One where Marshall had no access to him. She couldnât risk something like this ever happening again.
âNot a problem. When your father finishes eating, weâll go together. Weâll take your father back, then you can go home and get cleaned up for tonight. Iâll watch TV and wait, then we can head out, get a few drinks first to loosen up, and do our
E.L. Blaisdell, Nica Curt