Dorothy Garlock (16 page)

They were running out of time…

He’d meant what he had told Riley after the encounter at the diner; they had to be careful to not draw attention to themselves.
To that end, they needed to be patient. Sending Riley to keep an eye on the girl had been a risk; he had wondered if the dumb
bastard could keep his tongue in check, but so far he’d behaved. The plan had been to keep her good and scared, and in that,
Ellis knew Riley would succeed.

Thinking about Sophie Heller, frightened out of her wits, brought a sly smile to the corners of Ellis’s mouth. Though she
was undoubtedly in cahoots with that bastard of a father of hers, intent upon sabotaging America, he had to admit that she
was something of a looker. In the diner she had proven feisty; he had admired the way her chest had thrust out as she had
argued with him, and it had caused a stirring in his pants. He supposed that if all of the girls in Germany looked like that,
maybe being shipped out wouldn’t be so bad.

Ellis was lost in this lustful daydream when Cole Ambrose stepped in front of the open doorway. The man took a tentative step
inside—but what other kind could he take?—peering first at the men clustered along the bar and then into the murky gloom at
the rear of the tavern. His eyes soon settled on Ellis’s table, and even in the thick shadows that covered his face, Ellis
knew that Cole was there with a purpose.

Awkwardly, Cole made his way over to where Ellis was sitting. Ellis watched without humor the ungainly way he moved his leg;
he’d seen the way Cole had snatched up Riley’s hand close enough to know that the man was much more of a threat than might
first be believed. Looks, in this case, weren’t everything. After his last pained step, Cole stared down at Ellis, his shirt
stuck tightly to his body with sweat.

“You look like a fella in need of a drink,” Ellis offered.

“Why did you do it?” Cole asked in return, his voice heavy with accusation.

“Just sit down, Ambrose.”

“Tell me why you burned down that barn!”

“Keep your goddamn voice down,” Ellis hissed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bartender’s head rise from his
card game and turn in their direction. The last thing he needed was a pair of flapping gums getting hold of what he had done;
if that were to happen, he’d have as much chance to hold on to the secret as he would to shoot out the sun. “Either you sit
your ass down or I swear to Christ I’ll get up and knock you down.”

Cole stared at him for a moment longer before reluctantly sliding out a chair and sitting down. Ellis waited until the bartender
returned to his card game before turning his attention back to the angry man opposite him. “You sure you don’t want somethin’
to drink?” he asked. “Hell, I’ll even buy. A day like this, it’s ’bout the only thing that’ll beat the heat.”

“I’m not here because I want to share your company.”

“I reckon that’s fair enough.”

Now sitting up close to him, Ellis took a long measure of Cole Ambrose. He was no longer the scrawny runt tagging along behind
his brother, accepting of the fact that he would constantly stumble and fall, picking up just as many bruises as he did insults.
Now, things were different. Even with that bad leg of his, he was clearly the sort of fellow who was capable of handling himself.
No wonder he’d been able to hold his own with a scrapper like Riley.

“This ain’t none of your business,” Ellis said, looking him dead in the eye.

“You made it my affair.”

“You said that before,” Ellis chuckled easily, remembering the defiant way in which the young teacher had rushed to Sophie
Heller’s defense. “Back in that diner, you done got it in your head you was gonna play the hero. But you ain’t got no idea
what it is you’re stickin’ your nose into, boy.”

“Snakes like you never change, Ellis,” Cole said contemptuously. “Even if I didn’t already know what you bastards have done,
I’d have been certain that you were up to no good.”

“All the more reason for you to back off now.”

“Then your thinking is just as rotten as the rest of you. Just as bad as the ridiculous thought that you acted upon,” Cole
said with an angry shake of his head. “The Hellers aren’t Nazis! Any sane person would see that! They’re no less Americans
than you or me.”

“Bullshit!” Ellis spat. “You think that just ’cause you came back to town one of them college-educated fellas that the rest
of us are just dumb hicks, too damn ignorant for our own good, but I’m keen to what’s goin’ on. This war done began long before
them Japs bombed Pearl Harbor. Them Nazis been plannin’ this whole thing for years, puttin’ their agents in America and tellin’
’em to just go and act like they was normal folk. Ain’t no one gonna even notice until it’s too damn late! That’s what them
Hellers are… third columnists! I sure as shit ain’t gonna just sit by and do nothin’ while them Nazi rats turn Victory over
to those stooges in Berlin!”

“You’re crazy,” Cole whispered incredulously. “You’re completely insane.”

“You’re the fool if you don’t believe me,” Ellis argued as he brought a closed fist down onto the tabletop with enough force
to make his nearly empty whiskey glass jump. “Mark my words, once all the men are up and gone, them Hellers is gonna poison
the water supply or light fire to the whole damn town! Ain’t gonna be nothin’ left of this place ’cept some name on a map!
They mean to kill us all for Hitler!”

With every word that he spoke, it became increasingly clear to Ellis that Cole Ambrose chose not to believe him. Frustration
and anger roiled in his chest at this latest rejection. He’d tried to convince a scant few others in town, people that he
thought might be receptive to his message, but most all of them had proven to be just like the cripple sitting before him;
too blind and ignorant to see the truth. Only Riley had believed him… Riley and one other.

“You ain’t a good enough American,” Ellis snarled in accusation.

“There’s nothing good about what you’re doing.”

“I would’ve thought a smart fella like you might have had a shred of sense in him.” Ellis shrugged, leaning back in his chair.
“Hell, your brother’s gonna put on a uniform and go hunt down some Huns on their own land. Since that bum leg of yours ain’t
gonna let you fight over there, I done reckoned you might want to do your part over here.”

“Go to hell, Ellis,” Cole growled.

“I’m just sayin’ is all,” he said with a smirk. “Pains me to think I was wrong.”

“I’m nothing like you!”

“Then I suppose we’re at a stalemate. That little split-tail up and told you what it is we done but you ain’t enough of a
man to see we done it for all the right reasons.” Ellis’s eyes searched Cole, carefully gauging him as he gave voice to the
worry that had been nagging him from the moment the cripple had first told him that the Heller bitch had squealed. “I suppose
the only thing left for you to do is go and tell what you know to the police.”

Cole paused, only for an instant, before he said, “I might.”

“Bullshit,” Ellis cursed, reading the young teacher as easily as he might read a book. “If yellin’ to the cops were your intentions,
you’d have already done it, ’stead of sittin’ here and refusin’ my hospitality. There wouldn’t been no need to seek me out.
The way I see it, you ain’t got the guts.”

“Stay away from the Hellers,” Cole warned, a redness rising in his face.

“Or what?”

Cole rose to his feet much faster than Ellis would have imagined possible, his hands gripping the edges of the table so violently
that Ellis’s near-empty glass tipped and rolled, sending the whiskey crashing to the floor, where his drink lay dead and wet.
Neither man turned to it, their eyes fixed on each other.

“There a problem?” the bartender called.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ellis saw that their commotion had managed to attract some unwanted attention; both the bartender
and his card-playing companion were staring at them. Even the lone drunkard had raised his head from the bar top. Without
a word, Ellis raised his hand to the bartender and scowled. Such an act was more than enough to squelch any curiosity; his
brutal reputation was enough for all three of the men to suddenly act as if he were not even in the room.

“Don’t think for one second that I’m just going to stand by and let you three bastards have your way with the Hellers,” Cole
said, glaring down at him. “Knowing what you’re up to, I’ll be watching you like a hawk. You can bet on it!”

“So you’ve decided to play the hero, huh?” Ellis smirked.

“I’ll do what I have to.”

“You’re only going to get yourself hurt.”

“We’ll see about that. It’d be a mistake to underestimate me.”

“I’m already learnin’ that very thing.”

“You’ll find that I’m full of surprises.”

“Like the fact that you’re sweet on poor Sophie,” Ellis said, suddenly rising up from his chair and stepping around the table,
stopping only when he was a matter of inches from Cole’s face.

Cole seemed taken aback both by the bluntness of Ellis’s claim and the way in which he had risen to face him. Shaken, he took
an uneasy step back, but his eyes never left the other man’s face. His hands balled into fists, certain that it was about
to come to blows.

“You ain’t never been with a woman, have you?” Ellis asked.

Cole refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer, holding his tongue.

“I’ve known a couple of fellas like you,” Ellis said softly, his voice little more than a whisper. The faint smell of whiskey
hung in the air, wafting up from the floor below. “All of ’em shy and more than a little unsure of themselves. With your leg,
wouldn’t be nobody that’d blame you for it. Ain’t never had no attention from a lady. Then some pretty girl starts talkin’
in your ear and you start thinkin’ with what hangs between your legs instead of usin’ your head.”

“It’s not like that,” Cole said defensively.

“Sure it is. It’s
always
like that,” Ellis contradicted, moving even closer to the other man. “But the mistake you’re makin’ is that you’re too blind
to see you’re flirtin’ with the enemy. You take her to your bed and you’re gonna be doin’ just exactly what them Huns want.
The sooner you realize this, the better off you’re gonna be.”

Cole stared at Ellis, his face a mask of smoldering anger. Though he remained silent, Ellis could see that he could be provoked;
all it would take was a push here, a tug there, and he could be brought to blows. And that would be his undoing… But now was
neither the time nor place. It was enough to know he was vulnerable.

“But it’s your pecker, I suppose.” Ellis chuckled, backing away from their face-off and bending to pick up his wayward glass.

“Stay away from her, Ellis,” Cole warned him. “Or you’ll be sorry.”

By the time Ellis rose, Cole was already ambling toward the door, measuring each movement carefully, his hip jutting awkwardly.
He stepped from the gloom of the tavern into the summer heat and was lost to sight. He never once looked back.

Ellis Watts felt uneasy; Cole Ambrose was clearly more of a man than he’d given him credit for. He would have to be accounted
for if they were to deal with those damn Nazis. But unease wasn’t fear; it was impossible for him to believe that a one-legged
nothing could stand in the way of his plans. He knew that he could end the man’s life just as easily as snuffing out a match.
Still, as with the Hellers, he would need to be patient. Just as when he’d decided to burn the barn, the time to act would
reveal itself and he would not hesitate, he would not show any mercy, and then that damn cripple would be in for the fight
of his life.

“We’ll see who’s gonna be sorry,” he muttered to himself before signaling the bartender for another drink.

Cole hurried down the sidewalk as quickly as he could manage, distaste roiling in his gut at having been so near to Ellis
Watts. Warm sunlight washed over his skin and he couldn’t help but feel he was being cleansed; after learning the horrible
truth of what had happened to Sophie, after sitting in the murky gloom of the tavern, he felt he had been tainted, covered
in filth as surely as if he’d been pushed into a mud puddle.

Having to listen to Sophie speak of the heinous acts that Ellis and his two hooded companions had committed was nearly more
than Cole could bear. The fear in her voice had been paralyzing, a raw pain that felt as real to him as a slap in the face.
Still, he’d given Sophie his word. But while he would not go to the police, that didn’t mean he was going to do nothing. To
that end, he’d gone in search of Ellis Watts.

No-good rotten son of a bitch!

Finding the bastard had been easy; stomaching his presence long enough to learn the reasons for what he had done had been
something else entirely. Having to look at the smirk plastered on his face, having to listen to the self-assured way he spewed
his insanity, had made Cole both sick to his stomach and angry as hell. When Ellis had shot to his feet, he had steeled himself
for a confrontation that, to his surprise, had never come. Still, Ellis Watts had proven himself to be just as Cole remembered
him; as dangerous as a coiled rattlesnake.

From the moment that he had set foot inside the tavern and leveled his charges against Ellis, Cole knew that he had crossed
a line he could never erase. For better or for worse, he had inserted himself into the middle of the whole sordid affair.
To Ellis’s way of thinking, he was one with the Hellers; enemies who had to be dealt with, violently if need be. It would
inevitably come to a fight; of this Cole couldn’t be more certain.

Though Cole knew that Sophie would be upset with him if she knew what he had just done, he didn’t regret it. He simply couldn’t
bear the thought of seeing her hurt. If he had even a single ounce of strength left, he would use it to protect her, no matter
what the cost. It was impossible for him to know what was growing between them, but he knew in his heart that it was truly
special, maybe once-in-a-lifetime.

What could be more worth fighting for?