Ambrose (The Theriot Family 5)

I couldn’t keep from smiling at the annoyance in his voice. “Are you dog-sitting?”

“Yes.” The word was obviously said through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay to be doing a favor for your brother.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“I’m not.” I pressed my lips together and tried my best not to make any sound.

“Yes, you are.”

I cleared my throat, composing myself. “I need to meet with you.”

“No.”

“I saw Carlotti’s men today.”

“Fuck, Eric. Stay away from them.”

Why did I love hearing him say my name so much? I hadn’t wanted a man as badly as I wanted Ambrose in years. Maybe ever. What had I done to deserve being punished like this?

“I was careful. I didn’t approach them or anything.”

“However careful you were, it wasn’t careful enough.”

I was done with him. “You have no idea what I did.”

“Whatever it was, if you were close enough to see them, you were putting your life at risk.”

“I’m not just going to let them take over my parish.”

“That’s why you contacted me, right?”

I took a calming breath before I spoke. “I contacted you because you owe me, and I could use some extra muscle.”

Ambrose made a low sound of disgust. “I’m a hell of a lot more than muscle. I’m the only way you’re going to get this top-level asshole out of your way. I could fight a grizzly bear and win, and I’m a damn fine shot, but you need my brain just as badly.”

I grinned. He might be a bayou hermit, but I knew very well that didn’t mean all he could do was wrestle gators. He’d been a Green Beret. He had to be damn smart to accomplish what he had as well as able to plan then replan in the moment when things went wrong. I liked that he was all pissy about being my muscle. I’d never expected him to agree to play that role, but I wasn’t going to tell him that, at least not yet.

“What does your expert brain tell you we should do?”

“It’s telling me to get you the hell out of there, throw you in a safe house, then figure out how to destroy Carlotti.”

I stood frozen, heart pounding. No way was I going to let him cut me out of this, but his reaction was not what I expected. If he was as indifferent to me as I assumed, would he care that much about protecting me?

Maybe that was just his nature, but he sure as hell hadn’t cared about protecting the men he and his family had shot to pieces a few weeks ago.

They were enemies, but wasn’t I an enemy as well? I was a sheriff, and he was a criminal. I tried to think of Ambrose as what he was, a mobster I should bring to justice, but if I’d learned anything in my years in law enforcement, it was that nothing was that black and white. Ambrose cared about his family, and his enemies were my enemies as well. That had to be why he was willing to help me. His family wanted Carlotti gone anyway.

“Are you still there?” Ambrose asked. “Because if not, I should probably go play with Hope before she tears up Dax’s house.”

“I’m here, and I’m not going to a safe house. I’m working with you.”

Ambrose snorted. “We’ll see about that, but if you’re serious, then come talk to me.”

Why the fuck did it sound like he was flirting with me?

Because you want him to be.

Did I, though? That would be a disaster.

“You want me to come out into the bayou? That sounds like a mistake.”

Ambrose laughed. “While I’d love to see if you could survive the trek to my cabin, I’m at Dax’s house.”

“In the Garden District?”

“You’ve done your research.”

I’d found out where all the Theriots lived, all except Ambrose, whose location was apparently secret even to some of his family. “I am actually good at my job.”

“If you weren’t, I would never have worked with you. Meet me here in an hour.”

“I can barely get there that fast if I leave now.”

“Then get moving.” He laughed, and the sound sent heat all through me.

When Ambrose ended the call, I blew out a long breath. Was I really going to do this? Could I really consider myself a decent sheriff if I kept working with criminals?

He’s an informant. You learned long ago that you can’t catch everyone. You have to pick and choose, and there is no doubt Carlotti is far worse than Ambrose.

I had the day off, so I could go to New Orleans to see Ambrose without it being official business, except there weren’t really days off for a sheriff in a small department. If something happened…

Get the fuck out of here and worry about that when it comes up.

I listened to my inner voice, even though I was fairly sure it just wanted another chance to see Ambrose. Maybe he’d piss me off badly enough that I’d be able to stop thinking about him all the fucking time.