Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

U lysses

"I can't fucking believe you," I hiss into the night, watching her out the corner of my eye as she does her best to ignore me.

"I've been in Montgomery being interrogated by the feds off and on for weeks and come to find out after finally being cleared that it was my fucking woman who fucking snitched me out. What the ever-loving fuck do you think you were doing? You could've gotten all those kids killed with your silly ass stunt." I'm beating my fucking steering wheel so hard I'm sure it's about to break off.

"I'm not your woman. I'm not your anything, you dumb ass dummy." Her gaze slides over me with hate and hurt.

"We'll see about that, wildcat," I mutter. Of its own accord, my gaze rakes over those thick ass thighs all the way up to the tight Daisy Dukes riding high on her rump. No panties again, I'd bet. I'd bet the fortune of the Shelby inheritance my cousin, Mathias, told me I'd finally receive now that he'd helped Takeda put his evil ass daddy down.

Every Shelby knows the probability of being killed by a Love is high, but it wasn't until now that we have Japanese billionaires and Colombian cartel bosses entering into the fray to change the dynamic between our families. In the weeks following the burning of The Camelia, every Shelby and the hired thugs they hired to bring Krie Love for daring to defy the norms this town has been dealt with in the most permanent type of way. The message is clear for the time being. You fuck with those Love girls or anyone they care about and you will find yourself — no scratch that you won't be found.

Angel being the only exception because Easy ran from him and it's the Loves themselves at fault for their separation. At least that's what those of us who know what's really going on know. Still, the truth is slow to spread just as the lie that we are traffickers took hold so quick, thanks to this messy ass little wildcat curled against the other side of my cruiser like she can't stand for me to touch her. That shit is eating my soul alive.

I haven't touched her since that night. First, I was too busy with the Feds and thought she was busy helping to find Easy. Soon it dawned on me the reason she was not responding to my texts was not because she was helping with the search, but she thought I was in some way responsible. One of the many rumors being spread was Easy discovered Angel's trafficking and came to me only to have me be in cahoots with her dangerous husband and we did away with her or kidnapped her and had her locked away somewhere. Days passed when I had to deal with her male cousins on a daily basis, some of them even threatening to take Mom, who is on her deathbed, mind in retaliation.

"Loves don't care and we sure as fuck don't scare when it comes to our people," Nikodemus Love told me with deadly calm, pushing the Stetson off his tightly curled locks and wiping his forehead with a bandana when I pulled up to his compound to confront him on the matter.

At the time, I didn't think anything of Nebraska arriving on the scene to calm the matter. Later when they stopped their threats and retaliatory tactics like setting one of our fields on fire did Angel and I came to the conclusion they knew Easy left on her own with Saban. Then were turned to the possible people who had the resources to help her leave while the raid was happening when Angel spoke to her that very day. Krie was the most obvious answer, but Takeda prevented Angel from getting any information out of his wife, promising to sever his head from his body if he so much as spoke to her.

It wasn't until today I discovered Kandie's part. Read her statement in the documents my newly hired team of lawyers got from the government in discovery.

Pulling up to the station, I turn off the truck. Immediately, she darts from the cab. I'm on her in a second, snatching her up against my chest. "You already know I catch your little silly ass every time." I sniff. "You fucking reek."

Stiffening, she tries to kick back. I sidestep after one finds a lucky strike. Hoisting her over my shoulder, I slap her ass hard twice. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit. You've caused enough problems," I growl, taking the stairs up to the double doors.

"Sheriff." Garcia jumps from the desk as I enter, carrying my prisoner over my shoulder.

"Lock up, then leave." Shooting the words over my shoulder, I don't break my stride heading down to the showers. There's a long pause before I get the inevitable, "Yes, sir."

It's not lost on me that eighty percent of the time she escapes he's here. The cameras I had put on the front desk after the first few times show nothing and we can't violate inmates' privacy with cameras in the cell. Still, I know he's sympathetic to Kandie. Hell, the whole town is, which is why she's so out of control. That shit ends tonight. She threw our whole enterprise in jeopardy. She's lucky she called LL and not some random agent because not only would she be dead, but those kids as well.

Frustration eats at me as I take the stairs down to the basement. Crossing the gym in quick strides I enter the shower and sit her on wavering feet.

"Get undressed," I tell her, nearly ripping my uniform buttons as I disrobe.

"Fuck you," she grits through clenched teeth.

"Fine." Taking my bowie knife out of its sheath I flash it before her eyes. "Be still. Wouldn't want to slice that pretty brown skin now would we?"

"We can't all be the color of glue." She scrunches her nose like she smells something rank.

"You're funny when you're drunk," I say, unable to stop myself from chuckling.

"Not drunk, tipsy but I ain't never drunk, Sheriff." She stills when I place the knife beneath her shirt.

Not giving her a second to change her mind, I slice through the thin material. The blouse falls in tatters to the floor with a few more strategic swipes of my blade. Grasping her bra, I pull the material with one finger and slit through the lace like it's softened butter.

"You owe me fifty dollars," she gasps, her D-cups bouncing free to settle in their natural sag. My dick starts bricking up watching the way her nipples harden when the cool air forced into the shower touches them.

"Should've thought of that before you tried to defy me." Getting down on my haunches, I wince at the press of my hard dick against the uniform material. Snagging the bottom, I work the edge of the knife into her cutoffs and start a slow slice up.

"Stop it, U," she pants. I don't have to touch her or see to know her pussy is wet.

"Uh-uh, what happened to me being a fucking monster?" Anger eats me up as I work my way up to her waist, the blade pressed opposite her skin but still there, still a reminder of what I may do as the villain she's painted me as. The villain she still wants to fuck, regardless of my deeds. Abruptly, she shifts.

"Ow," she shies away.

"Be the fuck still, wildcat." I finish with a hard slice, exposing her entire left thigh, part of her soft round tummy, and pussy. I can see how the curls glisten with wetness for me and it takes everything in me not to bury my head between her thick thighs right now.

"See what you made me do?" Whispering, I eye the drop of blood welling right at the dip of her hip. Darting my tongue, I lick up the droplet before sucking the spot, pulling more of her deliciousness into my mouth. My dick thrums in response. She cups the back of my head for a brief moment before shoving me away after her sense returns a beat too late.

"Get off me, fiend," she hisses.

"Only for you, darling." Tugging the other leg, I watch as the rest of her lusciously plump body is revealed to me.

"Such a pretty pussy for such a bad girl." Rising I come to my feet. Wariness clouds her gaze and has me stepping back. Too late to hide my reaction to her, I allow my gaze to caress what she's denied me these long weeks.

"Use that one, it has the better water pressure." I nod to the stall in front of us.

"Oh, so you're not going to make me shower with you?" She quips. I know what she's really asking.

"I don't fuck drunk women." I shove down my pants unashamed that she sees the effect she has on me and head to the shower to the left of hers.

Letting the hot spray wash over me I relax for the first time in weeks. It's not because I got to taste and touch her as much as I dared to, it was finally seeing her face. It didn't matter that it was screwed up in disgust of who she's convinced herself that I am. It didn't matter that she turned from me, curled into the corner of the cab of my truck, trying to get as far away from me as possible. None of that matters. Just breathing her air is enough.

The aches and tension in my body ease, but my dick still demands attention. I'll be damned if I fuck my fist with her next to me trying to get clean. I can smell the clean scent of the soap as she washes, imagining how she must look touching her beautiful breasts, using the washcloth similar to the one I have smothering it in soap. Bubbles sliding down her flanks gather into those soft curls I wanted to bury my head and then my dick in.

"Fuck." Come erupts from my dick without me even touching myself at the thought. Quickly rinsing off the evidence, hoping she didn't hear me under the harsh spray, I finish my shower with the efficiency I learned from my years in the service.

Getting out, I dry myself then use the county issued moisturizer. "Aye, hurry up, jailbird," I call. "I started after you and I'm already done," I call over just as she pokes her head out of the shower with the plastic cap she put on dripping water all over the floor.

"Well, I did more than just rinse off. I have more parts to clean." Pulling the towel around her, she steps out of the shower stall. The tower doesn't quite cover all of her. The slit exposes one side of her breasts down to her ankle. "Give me another towel," she demands, seeking my naked perusal.

"No, I'm using enough county resources on you." Turning from her, I give her the privacy she wants when I go get the county issued jumpsuits for all the prisoners and pull a gray sweatsuit with Sheriff's Dept. emblazoned across the back.

Her gaze rakes up my body when I return, snagging on my dick. "Don't ever say shit about me not wearing panties in your life." She rolls her eyes as her mouth curls into a pout. "You're such a hypocrite, I swear." Rounding on me she adds, "But that should come as no surprise to me when you have the nerve to always be trying to throw people in this janky ass jail when your ass is out here a whole ass trifling ass trafficker, but, hey." She throws her arms up in a wide arc. "It's so on brand for y'all Shelbys, isn't it?"

Letting her words sink in, I stand looking down at her, anger licking at what I can't deny without exposing her more to the enterprise than she already has. Finding out my part, even Angel's, is not the problem. Finding the people those kids were slated to go to died with Rudy and without that knowledge, we don't know how far or deep this particular enterprise goes. Angel is doing his best to find out, but he's more than a little distracted trying to find Easy. The longer she is gone, the more unhinged he becomes.

"Seems like you've got me all figured out." Grabbing her elbow, I drag her along with me. She digs her heels in when I pull her past her favorite cell. I find it interesting she always ends up in the same cell. Why no one has realized she escapes from the same cell seems a little too convenient.

"Not tonight, wildcat. You going rogue while the El Diablos are out for blood is a bad idea," I tell her, taking her down to a cell that has a clear view to the lobby camera. No, we can't violate their privacy, but this cell just so happens to fall just within the line of sight. Which is why it's usually left empty, but not tonight.

"U," she digs in, not wanting to budge. She doesn't plead, though. She stops looking around the small five-by-seven little room.

"I'm trying to keep you safe," I ground out in the silence, giving her a light shove.

She swings around, looking me dead in the eyes, her eyes brown bruises. "Who's going to protect me from you?" She pulls her trembling bottom lip into her mouth to stop it from trembling. When she steps back, something erupts in me. I can't name it. I don't want to. It's too raw, too fucking real. The way she looks is fucking slaying me.

"Stop. Hurting. Yourself." I snatch her to me. The words sound like wounds to my own ears. "No one is going to protect you from me, wildcat. No one is going to fucking keep me from you. And right now, that makes you the luckiest lady in this town because I'm the only thing keeping Angel off your ass. He's not playing about Easy. He's not going to stop until he gets his wife back." Shoving against my chest, she tries to fight herself free. But I can't let her go. This is wrong. I hold power here. I shouldn't be touching her. I'm way past that. I'm the evil incarnate she thinks I am and I don't care that she knows it.

By the time my lips claim hers, she's not fighting me anymore. She opens for me. I take her mouth. She receives my plunder with a sigh. I growl, reaching down to grip her ass, fitting her against my hardness. I lose myself in her taste. Her touch. She melts into me as she always does. Lucious. Sweet. Mine.

It takes me several minutes to realize there are sirens blaring. Ripping my head away, I listen. Voices erupt from the coms station.

"Stay put." It sounds like a plea. I press a kiss to her brow. Stepping away, I pull the door closed. She looks ravaged. If I were a man who felt things like guilt, I would feel bad, but those sentiments died on faraway sands. "Don't make me hunt you."

The words that greet me when I enter the coms station are — "Loves, El Diablos, riot at Big Love Park."

"Gotdamnit," I swear. "All units to Big Love Park, pepper spray only. If they disperse on their own, let them go." I give the instructions, knowing just how combustible this situation can get when two of the most powerful entities go head to head.

By the time I get there melee is in full effect. There is an entire slugfest with men from both groups tearing at each other.

"What the hell happened to you?" I ask Davies who's holding his nose, both nostrils stuffed with blood-tinged tissue.

"Them." He waves listlessly to the crowd of at least two dozen men brawling. "Tried to break 'em up. Pulled out the pepper spray but before I can deploy it, I got coldcocked."

"He might have a concussion," Garcia says from his other side. "We're outnumbered. You want to call the state police?" he asks helplessly.

"Nah." Taking my phone out, I call the people who can stop it all. "Hey, your guys are out here fight with the Loves at the park."

"Huh? I guess they found out I got their matriarch," he says snidely, then calls away from the phone. "Your grandkids out tearing up the park you worked so hard to have named after the family. It'll be a shame some of them ended up dying out there because y'all took my wife." There is a lot of back and forth with clear admonishments from his sister, Lourdes, I can't quite catch.

Then finally, grudgingly, he says, "I'll handle it."

Another several minutes pass, then one by one, the El Diablos pull back. The only problem is the Loves still want to fight. Then there is a loud whistle and a "hold -up" and raised hand from Benjamin, motioning for them to settle down. He speaks to the men gathered. The words I can catch from the distance he's away are- Mama-Pete and Pa-Pete are Angel's guests until Ezekiel-Jane's safe return. Defeat falls over the crowd. There is a stalemate. They won't have the family's matriarch until they give Easy back. The only leverage they could have had would be the only other person Angel loves — his sister, Lourdes, and she's safely ensconced at her brother's hidden mansion. I don't even know where it is.

With the type of work Angel is in, I wouldn't blame him for taking the measures he has to keep his family safe, but kidnapping the older couple as collateral and retribution is farther than anything I have ever seen.

Once the crowd disperses, I look over my crew of officers. "I really hope nothing serious goes down around here. Take him to the medical center to get checked out," Nodding to Davies, I tell Gonzales.

"Sure thing, Sheriff," he says way too cheerfully.

The building is quiet when I return. "Any problems?" I ask Lydia, who's reading on her phone as usual.

"Nope. Quiet as a church mouse," she says not even looking up, so engrossed in the story.

"Thanks." Not bothering to disguise my intentions I head straight for lock-up. Going over to the cell I already know what I'm going to find before I open the door. She didn't even try to mask her disappearance. The bed is neatly made, the pillow as pristine as it was when we entered earlier. I search the room looking for anything that will tell me how she escaped. Nothing. The floor is smooth. No dust, no scrapes, there are no windows in this cell.

It's like she turned to mist and floated out of the cell.