Dax (The Theriot Family 4)

It had been so hard on Travis to tell me about what Rob had done, but he truly looked like he felt better afterward. Now, though, he practically lit up. He understood what it meant for Ambrose to give us his blessing and tell Travis he wasn’t to blame for what happened to him. He knew Ambrose didn’t mince words.

I hadn’t heard Ambrose speak that much in years. It meant a hell of a lot to me too, and it helped me have hope that, given more time, my brother might become the man he was before he ran off and joined the army.

“Thank you,” Travis said. I know you always say what you mean.”

Ambrose nodded. “That’s never changed. So now that were clear on why Travis accompanied you here today, tell me how I can help bring this son of the bitch down.”

I told Ambrose everything I’d learned from Jean-Charles. “Do you have any info that can help us narrow down the location where they’re making transfers?”

Ambrose frowned. He seemed to be thinking. “Not offhand, but I’ve got people who can look into it. I’ve heard about this sheriff, though. He came here from Baltimore. He thinks he can change how things are done around here, but he’s never going to succeed. I have no idea how he got elected in the first place.”

“Normally I prefer to keep my distance from cops, but we might be able to use him.”

I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. The enemy of my enemy and all that shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait.” Travis held up a hand. “You think this guy would work with us?”

I nodded. “Law enforcement works with criminals all the time as long as they’re getting the bigger fish.”

Travis looked back and forth between me and Ambrose. “You’re the Theriots. Are there bigger fish?”

Ambrose grinned. “There are ones that are more easily caught and look damn fine on your resume.”

“We’re old school,” I explained. “We’re diversified. We have our connections established, and we know how to not get caught. LePlatt is already on plenty of people’s radar, law enforcement and others who’d like to eliminate him and make way for their own ventures.”

“So you really think this guy might work with us?” Travis asked.

“Possibly.”

“If not, then what?”

Travis’s worried expression made me want to pull him into my arms.

“Then we evade him and take care of the problem on our own. We’re more than capable, but if we can keep ourselves from fending off law enforcement on one side and LePlatt’s people on the other, this will be a lot easier.”

Travis smiled. “Yeah, I see that.”

“I’ll see what I can find out about the location and do some scouting,” Ambrose said.

“Shouldn’t we try to get this sheriff on our side first?”

“He’ll never know I was there.”

I smiled at my brother’s confidence. He might’ve stopped participating in society after he came back home, but he hadn’t lost any faith in the skills that had gotten him into a special forces unit and that he’d continue to develop while he was in the desert. He’d always been able to melt into the bayou and make his way around. Nothing scared him, not gators, not the half-feral people who lived out there, not the criminals who used the terrain to hide.

Travis looked concerned, and I patted his thigh. “He’ll be fine.”

“I’ll let you know what I learn.” Ambrose pushed back from the table. “It’s time for a toast.”

I looked at Travis with unease. It was tradition any time I came to see Ambrose that he forced me to endure the moonshine he made. I was absolutely sure the stuff could revive the dead. It burned all the way down and just kept burning, usually until I passed out. I was more than happy to forgo the ritual, and I was worried Travis might be uncomfortable with the whole situation. He wouldn’t want to refuse something Ambrose offered him, but—

Travis set three bottles on the table. They were standard brown beer bottles, not the mason jars he stored his moonshine in.

“Ginger ale,” he said. “It’s homemade.” He popped off the lids and set one in front of Travis and one in front of me.

Travis gaped at him. “How did you know?”

“I told you, I listen when people talk.”

That hadn’t changed either. Ambrose had always learned things by being quiet. I’d never had anywhere close to his level of patience. When I wanted to know something, I demanded the answers. There were times for each of those methods, and I missed getting to work side by side with my brother the way I had before he’d left. “Since when do you brew ginger ale?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been making it for years.”

“And you’ve never offered me that. Instead, you make me drink that foul moonshine.”

He laughed. “It keeps you strong.”