Page 28 of Kandie Shoppe

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 untilAngel 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 calledTheRitual,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 seeis 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 canI 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. Ignoringthe 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?

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