Page 25 of What I Should Have Felt (Anchors and Eagles #4)

FORD

I shrugged my jacket tighter up my shoulders and stalked toward the front door of the sheriff’s station.

Without disturbing her from her sleep, I’d tucked Colette safely back in my bed, dressed in a black T-shirt and cargo pants, threw on my jacket, and cruised on my motorcycle down to the police just before sunrise.

I wasn’t waiting for a deputy to show up.

Sometime, while in the middle of just holding Colette, things within me had shifted to anger.

This was either going to be foolish or worth it, but I was going to fucking confront Deputy Harrelson head on about the shit that was going on.

Someone both Colette and I’d gone to high school with.

The sheriff was some old ass who had been sheriff while we were kids, and I wasn’t exactly…

in favor with him. But maybe I held some sway with Deputy Harrelson.

I wasn’t confronting him out of that anger, but because I wanted to see how far the department was in bed with O’Connor for myself. I wanted to see how many excuses they’d come up with. I wanted them to think I was desperate. Not doing some recon.

Shoving open the front door, the bell tinkled, and several deputies glanced up from their desks on either side of me. Margorie stood up behind her counter, directly in front of me, and raised her drawn-on brows.

“It’s barely seven in the morning, and here you come marching in here with some attitude. What can we do you for?” she asked and threw a hand on her plump hip.

I studied her for a moment, and then shifted my gaze, but not my stance, to the man, slowly rising from his seat on my left.

“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Deputy Harrelson cautiously said.

“Yeah, I fucking do. Wanna tell me why the hell you haven’t done shit about the break in at my parents’ restaurant, Carl?” I snarled and faced him directly.

He adjusted the belt around his waist and slid his hand over his bald head. “Ford, this isn’t—”

“Nah, this is exactly the time and place, since I got a phone call at ten-thirty last night that the LeBlanc residence was broken into and trashed. They had nowhere else to go. So now I’ve got an entire family living in my parents’ house all saying that fucking Robert O’Connor sent those men.

” I glared at him but refused to raise my voice.

He swallowed, and he rolled his lips between his teeth. “Be careful who you accuse, because the report that Colette and her family gave provided no evidence that ties him into that break-in. ”

“It wasn’t just a break-in. They absolutely demolished their home. The LeBlancs literally cannot live there right now, and it’s going to cost them every penny they have to fix it up,” I countered.

“I get your concern, but you’re insinuating that the man who has poured more money into our little town than anyone else in over two decades is capable—”

“Thank you, Deputy, but I can handle this,” a slimy voice weaseled into the conversation.

Bingo.

I held my smile and looked over Carl’s shoulder as Robert O’Connor strutted out of the Sheriff’s office.

“It’s nice to finally come face to face with Ford Thibodeaux himself,” O’Connor continued and walked around the deputy’s desk.

Just as every small-town sheriff’s department was, things could use an upgrade, and the tile on the floor squeaked beneath the rubber shoes of the sheriff himself, who followed O’Connor.

“Now, I know small-town communities have this strange thing with outsiders, and anything that goes wrong, their immediate reaction is to blame the newcomer. But I can give you my word, that I wouldn’t send men to break into a home, and assault people over a restaurant or two.

” He straightened the lapels of his gray suit and then clasped his hands in front of him.

Alarm bells went off in my mind as I noted the expensive cufflinks and gold watch that flashed on his wrist. Not a strand of hair was out of place, nor was there a thread coming loose on his white suit shirt.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d just slowly drain the people you want the business from of all their assets and money, until they’re desperate enough to give you what you want for pennies on the dollar,” I replied, studying every twitch of muscle in his face and shift in his body language.

His lips forced into a smile as he glanced over his shoulder. “Now you can see why I asked for a little extra protection on my businesses while I’m out of town for a couple weeks. It seems small-town brain rot has really hit this one,” O’Connor said, addressing the sheriff.

“Of course,” Sheriff Landry replied with a nod.

His belly hung over the waistband of his pants, and his greasy fingers were as plump as the sausage links I was fixing to cook up for breakfast once I returned.

He looked exactly like he had when I was growing up, with sweat already turning his face shiny from the short walk out of his office.

He no longer had hair beneath his hat, and he had a mountain more rolls and wrinkles, but it was still the same man who once put me in cuffs as a kid.

O’Connor turned to face me again. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you face to face,” he said to me.

Brushing his hand down his tie, he smoothed out a few wrinkles and raised his chin to the sheriff.

“He certainly is a big one. You might want to double the protection, Sheriff Landry. Who knows the sort of damage a man like that could do. Hell, he might even kill somebody.” He paused as he walked past Margorie and tipped his head in a polite nod.

“Morning, sweetheart. Don’t let this swamp puppy intimidate you.

” And then he pushed on by me with the sheriff in tow.

I remained standing sideways and used my peripherals to note the handshake and at least three new men that I should’ve done more than knock out last night walk up behind O’Connor .

I should’ve just killed all of those fuckers, though I hated the amount of blood that had already been spilled by men who were just doing what one person had ordered them too.

“Thibodeaux,” Harrelson whispered beside me.

“Hmm?” I mumbled, still watching as O’Connor got in a black Escalade with his men.

“I’m planning to try and push your reports to the state police anonymously, but there really isn’t much else I can do without getting…caught. O’Connor has provided a lot, financially, if you know what I mean.” He kept his voice really low, so quiet, I barely was able to hear what he said.

“Thanks, Carl.” I gave him a curt nod as the Escalade slowly turned around in the dirt parking lot.

“You know how slow things can be, so just… stay safe and do what you need to do,” Carl finished.

“The push from you might help speed things up, though, since I’ve already given the state police a call.” I balled my hands into a fist as the sheriff watched O’Connor leave. “How long is O’Connor gone for?”

“Didn’t say specifics, but at least a week or two is what I picked up.” Carl pulled his lips into a thin line. “Don’t count on the state police hurrying up. We’re such small fish in the sea, they reduced our funding so much, which is why the sheriff didn’t even bat an eye when O’Connor showed up.”

I glanced at him. “How far does this go?”

“Just hush money and to turn a blind eye, for now,” he replied and then slunk away as the sheriff turned around and walked back toward the building .

I didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge that Harrelson had spoken to me or anything as I marched out of the building. Without a glance to the sheriff, I stalked back to my bike and swung a leg over.

“Hey, Thibodeaux,” the sheriff called out, and I paused. Glancing at him, he curled his lips up in a wicked grin. “Might want to check that taillight, son. Wouldn’t want to write you a ticket.”

Spinning around, I tipped over the edge and clenched my teeth.

Of course that jackass would do shit like this.

Making a mental note to fix the smashed taillights, I turned the bike’s engine over and glanced back as the doors closed behind the sheriff.

At this point in time, the information gained was useful, but I still wasn’t sure if I could call this excursion a complete success.

Because the threat was still there, as well as confirmation that we were on our fucking own.

Azelie shoved her plate out as I turned the pan on its side to dump some more scrambled eggs onto the serving tray. “Thank you!” She grinned widely as I chuckled to myself and guided the food with my spatula out of the pan.

“Where’s your mom? She’s the only one not out here,” I asked, glancing around the oddly relaxed kitchen and dining room.

It seemed that somehow, my parents, Mawmaw, and Colette’s parents were able to co-mingle relatively nicely when their lives were in danger.

They sat around our way-too-small dining table chatting amicably, as if they were old friends.

“Still in the bedroom, I think. No one’s seen her come out this morning,” Azelie answered and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “The food’s gonna get cold if she doesn’t get out here soon.” And she walked away with another full plate of food and her nose buried in her cellphone.

I sighed and spun around, placing the pan on the stove as I turned the burner off.

With a final scan of the room to see if anyone else was paying attention to me, and they weren’t, I crept out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

The chatter from the dining table buzzed like white noise.

The same sound as the fan I heard whirring in my bedroom as I padded down the hallway.

A smile crept upon my face. That damned fan in my bedroom was still running all these years later, despite it being the same one I’d used growing up, and I knew that was why Colette was still asleep.

No sound had ever managed to penetrate the loud spin of that fucking thing. At least I’d not met one that did yet.

Whether she had patients at the clinic or not today was something I didn’t know, which meant disturbing her sleep at least long enough to know if she needed to be up.

Maybe she’d simply forgotten to set an alarm or slept through it seeing how she’d been up early this morning and only fallen back asleep again maybe an hour and a half ago in my lap.

If she didn’t need to be up, then I’d disappear quietly back to the kitchen, and save her some food for when she was finally awake.

At the end of the dim hallway, I reached forward and knocked on the door. Though, with the fan roaring in the room, I knew she wouldn’t hear that, especially assuming she was asleep. I waited for maybe a minute or so without a response and knocked once more for good measure.

But still nothing. So, I grabbed the handle and lifted it slightly.

The hinges squeaked quietly, and I tugged the door toward me, then twisted the knob just a smidge to the right and it popped open.

A habit I’d picked up after years of figuring out how to leave my door locked but still get into my room without my parents knowing, because the lock would remain engaged if opened in this very specific way.

Gentle sunlight slipped through the small crack in the curtain. It draped streaks across the disheveled bed, and the blood stilled in my veins as I locked onto Colette.

Lying on my bed, her eyes were closed with her head tipped back slightly upon the pillow, and her chest rose and fell with each panting gasp for air. One hand was hidden beneath the quilt as her other fingers tightened their grip on the sheets.

The door behind me quietly swung closed with a soft plunk, drowned out by the fan in the corner of my room. Her chest heaved faster, as her lashes fluttered with the rhythmical movement of her hand beneath the blankets.

She was not asleep. She was…

Shit. I shouldn’t be here. I’d just walked in on Colette during some very personal time.

Her chest rose again, and a quiet moan left her lips. The sound—one word.

My name.