Page 6 of Ruffled Feathers

Frankie laughed. “Sure thing. It’s fine, Heff. I know Juice and her brother.” He holstered his weapon, and I frowned.

“Stepbrother,” I gritted out, but pulled the sack containing the rooster from beneath my shirt. Untying the top, I looked in,and the rooster looked up at me dazedly.Shit, he doesn’t look too good.Tucking him back into the bag, I smiled pleasantly at Frankie. “Well, it’s been great to see you, Frankie, but I have to go.”

He reached around and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that, Juice… Unfortunately, you’re at the scene of a crime, holding incriminating evidence. You’re going to have to come down to the station with us.”

I blinked at him. “You can’t honestly think I had anything to do with a cockfighting ring, right? I’m the one who nailed Oliver Petra in the balls when he kicked that dog.” I’d shown him that a little kick could cause serious injury, no matter how much he’d argued that it couldn’t.

Frankie shrugged. “That’s between you and the detectives. For now, you better come down to the station and explain why the hell you’re in a junkyard at midnight with a banged-up cock.”

I ran a hand down my face. “Fine. On two conditions.”

“Juice, I’m not sure you get to make condit?—”

I held up a finger. “One, you swing by my place and drop the rooster off to my housemate, so it can get some medical attention. I don’t want it to die.” I held up a second finger. “Two, you don’t call my dad.” I paused. “Actually, three. You stop making cock puns, like ASAP.”

Snorting a laugh, Frankie nodded. “Sure thing. Otillie-James Baler, you’ll need to come with us down to the station.” He held out his hand, and I carefully passed over the chicken. With a sigh, I followed him and his beefy partner out to their patrol car and climbed into the back.

This definitely didn’t go to plan.

“So, you decided what? To rescue a bunch of fighting cocks?” the detective asked me again, incredulously.

“Yes.”

“And you intended to steal them out from under the noses of the organizers, then leave with five fighting roosters in bags in the dead of night, on the bad side of town?”

“Yes.”

“And then do what with them?”

In truth, I hadn’t gotten that far into my plan. I’d figured once they were at my house, we could come up with a stage two. “Uh, maybe send them to rehab?—”

The door burst open. “Otillie-James,be quiet.” I groaned as the Alpha in the doorway stepped fully into the room. I was going to kill Frankie. “I’d like a moment to talk with my client.”

The detective rolled his eyes. “No need. We’ve heard enough. Otillie-James Baler, you’re currently being charged with participating in disorderly conduct, and conduct against public decency. You are also charged with trespass and theft of an animal, as well as being in possession of cockfighting instruments, i.e. the cock.”

Truett Heathstone turned his disbelieving gaze my way, then back toward the detectives. “This isn’t going to stand up in court; we both know it. She’s a law-abiding citizen with?—”

“With a previous assault charge,” the detective finished. “Take it up with the DA at her bail hearing.”

“I’d like a moment to speak to my client before she’s taken back.”

The detective shrugged and left. Truett turned his gaze on me, his disapproval a physical thing. I struggled to hold his gaze and looked down at the shiny metal table. I hated when he Alpha-d me.

“Otillie-James, what the fuck were youthinking?”

I lifted my chin, stubbornly meeting his gaze, even if it was only briefly. “That someone had to do something.”

“And you thought the best course of action was to break and enter on private property, steal a bunch of vicious birds and… what?”

“None of your fucking business, Truett. How did you know I was even here? At no point have I ever wanted or needed your help.” I already knew how, but I kind of wanted to be stubborn.

He gave me that droll Truett expression I’d seen more than a few times over the last six years. The one that made it no secret he thought I was an airhead. “Frankie called me. And itismy business, because you’re about to get a criminal record for being an idiot.”

Frankie, that traitor.I guess he’d technically followed my conditions, but had called Satan here instead.

“Fine. I’m sorry. Is that what you need to hear? I didn’t think it through.” That was a lie, but it was what he wanted to hear, and I could do without the ten-minute lecture. I’d rather be in the holding cell with Babette, who farted so loudly it echoed off the walls, as she slept off her drunk and disorderly arrest.

Shaking his head, Truett stood. “I’ll post your bail and then pick you up. Do not leave without me, Otillie-James. I mean it.”

---