Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

T he dilemma

Ulysses

"I'm the only person you're fucking from now on."

Slamming my hand on the dash of the truck after I pull up to the Shelby-Love County Court House, I'm fuming. "Fuck." This was the last thing I needed — she was the last thing I needed. I was so fucking confounded by Angel's demand to handle the situation when we saw her little nosey ass peeking over the side of the rooftop I didn't think, didn't dredge up the strength I needed. Then when she said she was having company, I fucking lost it. Something primal rose up in me, demanding I stake my claim, mark her as mine and only mine.

I'd been doing so good at keeping my distance. Then, just as I knew it would, my control snapped as soon as I was within sniffing distance of her. Immediately all I could think of as she was sassing me was to bury myself so deep inside of her that she didn't know where she began and I ended. And damn if that's not what happened; not once but so many times that I didn't find myself leaving her place until the sun cracked over the horizon.

Already late as I was leaving, I even nodded to Mr. Lopez as he was entering his flower shop. My relief of it just being him vanished the moment his wife Ms. Maria popped her head out of the back door with a cheerful, "Hola, Sheriff." Any thought of my keeping Kandie company being kept quiet flew out the window right then. The woman has only one rival when it come to the level of gossip she spreads and it was the minx whose bed I'd just left.

As the thought settles in, I can't help the smug satisfaction I feel knowing that soon Kandie and I are going to be the town's new open secret. It gives the other work I put in a little competition in the gratification I feel.

I sit in the darkness watching the four men toss back beers laughing.

"Did you see the way her head cocked hard to the right when I tagged her?" A blond chuckles shaking his head.

"Yeah, but I got her in the back good." A scrawny redhead almost falls over as his body shakes with mirth.

"She coulda broke her neck, Tobias." Just as I think I will only get to maim this one, he clarifies with, "We should have brought her back here."

"Nah, she a barfly. We knocked some sense into her. Next time she'll know better than not to come along quietly. That is if she didn't break her neck falling in that ditch."

Regulating my breathing I inhale and exhale aiming my M82 hitting target one, then in quick succession take out the next three. The fourth had enough time to turn so instead of a head shot blood gurgles from the redhead's throat.

Rising from the wheat field, I stalk forward, removing the sand-colored camo from my truck. Getting into the cab, I back it up, taking the bag filled with lye, fresh local dirt, and chicken droppings from the back along with a plastic tarp.

One by one, I wrap the four dead men, tossing them in the back of the truck. After spreading the lye-soil mixture over the bloodstains so no one will be the wiser — not that these dumbass wastes will be missed by anyone other than their mothers — I head to the Shelby sugar cane fields.

It's after laying those motherfuckers to rest in a spot of the freshly plowed acre of Shelby Sugar with Mathias looking on boredly because I didn't have the decency to keep them living so he could have some fun burying them alive. "I have another thing to do tonight," I tell him just as the text came in from Angel telling me to meet him behind the Lopez's flower shop. He chose the location but now I have another problem — how much did Kandie hear and how much did she understand? I know she like most folks around here has a smattering of Spanish language knowledge but is she fluent?

Angel is a cold motherfucker and though he got the nod from Pa-Pete to take over this area for his enterprises, he won't hesitate to get rid of anyone who causes him any friction, Kandie included. The fact that he gave her to me to handle and not one of his guys is the only reason she's still alive. "Handle that." He nodded in her direction, eyes cold, the message clear before turning to leave.

"Fuck," I yell, slamming my fist on the steering wheel. Instead of handling her, I let her handle me. Squeezing my eyes closed, my mind immediately drifts back to the way she licked come off my dick, taking as much of me as she could. How she met every demand as I stretched her tight little holes, making her take my dick, finger, and tongue again and again. She was so soft for me when she strutted around town like a cocky little hellion busting balls everywhere she goes. She bends for me so beautifully. Damn if that's not the biggest headfuck to my ego. To have the town's baddie ruined for me.

Balls tightening at the thought I shake my head trying to erase the thoughts spiraling through my brain. Shoving out of the truck's cab I eye its fresh washed surface making sure I didn't make any mistakes on any of my illicit activities.

Dealing with those guys who dare fuck with what's mine was a privilege. Angel's thing was an obligation I inherited. Not one I would condone, but I learned as soon as I stepped in as interim sheriff at mom's insistence that only I could do this. Smuggling people into this country has been going on long before I was a twinkle in my daddy's eyes, but the effects far outlast all our lives. "Who are we to deny people refuge? All we can do is make sure they aren't being exploited," Mom demanded when I first learned of the arrangement she and my father before her had with the cartel and El Diablo MC. "When Hezekiah found out what we expected of the sheriff of these parts he disallowed kids to me brought over for anything other than safety." She goes on to further explain how Shelbys had been smuggling people into the country for their various enterprises since they lost the power to own folks. It was their way of skirting the laws and having cheap labor.

My father put a stop to it as much as possible but soon found that his family had started partnering with the cartel and there was no way to safely extract himself from the enterprise so he did what he could once he found how deep the treachery ran all the way into the very government agencies he sought help from. His insistence that no children would be trafficked through his territory was the only concession they made. It wasn't until Angel took over the El Diablo's years later and stopped sex trafficking all together in his territory that it ended.

That didn't mean the Shelby sheriff's hands were clean far from it. We enable the drug and counterfeit trade to flourish. Kandie was right, I was a dirty ass cop, well sheriff to be exact. But I couldn't give a fuck. The shit I did in the name of God and my country was far worse than helping people who came to this country for a better life, and I wore the scar to prove it. I still hear the screams. I still have the occasional nightmares. There is more poppy flowing from Afghanistan now than ever before and that wasn't the case before the good ol' USA sat our feet on the ground to find someone who wasn't even there and stayed for twenty years.

So nah, I don't care. I do care about keeping all the people safe who live in my county regardless of how they got here. Safe passage of thirty souls is what is needed from me by Angel Cruz and that's what I agreed to last night when the nosey little baker decided to pop her head over the side and knock over a pot of daffodils.

"Hey, Sherriff," Lydia chimes bright and pretty like the rest of her from the dispatcher desk.

"Hey, Lydia." Giving her a brief nod of acknowledgement, I head to my office, ignoring the Kindle she's trying to scoot behind her so I won't see the name of the book she's reading. She blushed so hard when I saw she was reading something called The Ritual, which she primly informed me was a dark romance.

Being a fan of horror, I assumed it was something like that, but she assured me it was not. Leaving it at that, I reminded her she's not to be reading at work or at least don't let me see it. I guess she's doing her part by easing it out of my view.

"Ah, Sherriff." I turn back.

"The FBI is here. They are waiting in your office." Voice filled with awe and eyes wide she nods toward the door I now see is open and with the light on which is normally closed and the room dark when I'm not in, which is a lot. I am a hands-on official. I spend most of my time around the people I'm supposed to be serving. Any given day I will be out on some farm helping raise a new barn or chasing someone who stole someone's livestock.

"The fuck do they want?" I mutter to myself striding to my open office door.

The Camelia later that night…

Taking in the small figure in a chef's uniform looking nervously from the front entrance of her restaurant I regard Chef Krie. Irritation and compassion war within me as I stride toward her. She didn't deserve this but after going back and forth with the FBI, the Creative Chaos executives, and the local DA I didn't have the choice. This is the last stop. The other kids are all in custody, her brother Thaddeus is our arrest, and unfortunately for the little chef her brother hacked the wrong fucking people then decided to come hang out at her business.

I roll my shoulders trying to shrug off the agitation the job brings sometimes. The Takedas wanted a message sent. The DA insisted on making all the arrests tonight before anyone could try to flee the jurisdiction. Facing her small frame standing so rigid like she's girding herself for the worst news possible, I'm reminded of when I had to break the news to her over a year ago that her parents had perished in a pile-up coming from Mississippi during a storm that turned bad suddenly making at least one person panic causing a multi-car pile-up on the highway.

She reminds me so much of her cousin, Kandie, minus the deep-set dimples. Krie's just don't pierce into her cheeks in that same delectable way, they barely crease giving a little hint when she smiles and aren't always present no matter the mood like Kandie's. She's definitely not smiling now with the worry marring her pretty face as she regards me.

"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" I glance past her through the tinted glass, assessing the people inside, not really anticipating any trouble from her mostly middle-age, pedestrian patrons. I doubt any of them will give me any fuss, but the number one rule of working with the public is to never underestimate anyone. The most mild-mannered person could end up being a stone- cold killer under the right circumstances.

"I hate to interrupt your meal service, Chef. Is your brother Thaddeus here?"

She looks at me in complete confusion. Compassion floods through me as I state the charges. I can tell, though, her mind is a million miles away. It's like she can't process the words I'm saying. Her eye tracks my lips with this dazed expression on her face. I know she's not hearing any of the words I'm saying. By the third time I ask her, I know she is in shock.

"KRIE," I nearly shout her name. Finally, she snaps out of the state of shock that's taken over her.

"What?" Her gaze darts beyond me. I don't have to turn to know my deputies are lining up just at my rear like they are in military formation.

I can see the fear like none she's never experienced, save for when her parents died, seizing her whole body. The Feds wanted a full show of force to show the Creative Chaos executives they were taking this seriously. That's what money does.

"Is Thaddeus Love, your brother, here?" I take a step forward. She almost instinctively backs up before doing what I've seen her cousin do a thousand times — face me down. These Love women, I swear, are a fucking menace. This one isn't known for assault and battery, though.

"What do you want with my brother, Sheriff Shelby?" I can tell she's close to calling me SS like most of the folks have called the sheriffs in these parts decades before Daddy became the sheriff. People don't hesitate to let me know he was the only good one, and the verdict was still out on me.

I give her a hard stare, knowing what she's itching to do.

"Is. Thaddeus. Here. Don't make me tear your restaurant down to the studs looking for him." Some people make threats, I don't. I'm making the little chef a promise.

"What is someone saying he did?" she asks. Both our heads turn as more cars pull up. Big black government looking vehicles line up behind the county's. Men in suits get out with FBI badges.

"Oh, my goodness."

"God dammit," I cut her words off, swearing at the same time she cries out, "Krie, you don't want this." There is more in that warning than I can convey. I hope she can see the levels of power being pulled far exceed the warning I'm trying to give. I'm her only hope for an ally despite our families' history. Right now, I hope she realizes she has to go with the devil she knows. These people are not playing and her brother has thrown her into the midst of shark-infested waters.

"He's in the back office working on ads." Though she doesn't expressly say anything, I can hear the unasked plea in her words. She needn't worry. I have no interest in hurting a kid.

"You come with me to escort him out." Striding past her, I cut a line through the diners. She follows close behind me. Ignoring the looks, gasps, and murmurs, wondering what is going on, I stay focused on the task at hand. They probably think she's being raided or something. I expect the rumor mill to be churning before we leave the premises.

To say I'm surprised that this kid out of all the Loves I've encountered is in trouble would not be an exaggeration. Thaddeus has never been a problem. Tall and lanky growing up, he's had the same set of friends for most of his life. None of them have ever been in trouble. They are all the quintessential "Good kids". All of whom have been arrested and waiting to be arraigned as we speak. Thad struggled after their parents died in that traffic accident coming home from visiting a church in Mississippi a year and a half ago, but that's normal. He was barely sixteen at the time. So when he acted out, no one was surprised but rallied around him — especially his group of friends. He managed to pull himself through with the help of therapy. He's thriving now, by all accounts. This kid has his whole life in front of him. I know Chef Krie thinks of him as her responsibility and takes a lot of pride in the fact that he seemed to be doing so well. None of this makes sense. Why would any of these kids throw their entire futures away and tarnish their family names like this?

"This all has to be some mistake, Sheriff." I remain silent, walking through the busy kitchen — as dangerous a place as any, with an innumerable amount of weapons at a potential assailant's disposal from hot oil to all the knives lying around. Hell, a hot skillet could do real damage.

We skirt around the busy kitchen, down the short hallway leading to her office.

I open the door. Thad's head pops up, startled and looking guilty. He's probably playing video games instead of doing the ads Krie briefly said were his role in the restaurant.

"Thaddeus Love, you're under arrest violating U.S.C. § 1030 — The Federal Crime of Computer Hacking. You have the right to remain silent —"

"You've got to be kidding me!" I don't let Krie's outburst deter me. I continue with the counts as spelled out in the warrant.

"Thad, what is he talking about? Ulysses, you can't be serious," she pleads, looking between the two of us. "Thad didn't do this. He wouldn't do anything like this ever."

"Give me your wrists," I instruct, focusing on the unapologetic expression on the kid's face continuing to give Thaddeus Love his rights.

"You know him. You know this isn't right." Her voice takes on a heartbreaking hoarseness. She sounds like she's choking on despair.

"Thad?"

"I didn't do anything wrong, Krie. Don't worry about it." He sounds so brave to her, I bet. He sounds guilty and prideful to me. Not only did he do it. He's wearing this arrest like a badge of courage. I guide him by the shoulder out to the hallway.

Deputies line up behind and in front of us like they hunted down a killer. I can barely squeeze by with the kid, with Krie following close behind me and her brother. Teams of two, six on each side follow us out.

Turning to my left, I ask Davies, "Did you bring the cruiser around?"

"Yes, sir."

Good. I won't parade this kid through the dining area in handcuffs surrounded by deputies looking like he's some type of criminal.

The entire kitchen is silent as I take them through to the door leading out back. None of the diners can see back here, but I can clearly hear them demanding to know what is going on.

Feeling Krie's eyes on me, I protect Thad's head as I help him into the back of the cruiser.

Slamming the door closed, I turn to look down at her brown eyes so similar to her cousin's only they don't hold the same fire but are flooded with fear and confusion.

Treating her like she is about to enter the battlefield, I fire out instructions for her ears alone. "Get a lawyer. I told them to wait until you finish to come in. Close early. Stay in the kitchen. Two deputies are going to stay to ensure you do. The feds will confiscate all of his devices. They have been to your home already. They are going to take his laptop. They are going to want to interview you. Again. Get. A. Lawyer."

She stands frozen, hopefully absorbing everything I told her. Getting into my vehicle, I drive off opposite of the officers out front. I hope to save Krie the embarrassment — to save Thaddeus. No one knows who we came to take out of the back. They won't until the morning. Still, I have to say something to this kid who seems so unbothered.

"You brought a lot of unnecessary problems to your sister's door, young man."

Hazel eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."