Ambrose (The Theriot Family 5)

“You did as much research on me as I have on you,” Eric said.

I nodded. My hands were shaking, and I hated it. I wanted to lash out at him. I wanted to disappear, but I couldn’t. I’d promised to take care of Hope, and I wouldn’t let Travis down. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t have that.”

Eric smiled then, a genuine smile. It made me feel like I might be having a heart attack. I would rather he hold a gun on me. That I could deal with.

“You’re right. It doesn’t, but you said I wanted a wife.”

I waved my hand as if it didn’t matter. “Wife. Husband. Whatever.”

“So says the straight guy.”

I bristled, my hands balling into fists. I didn’t like him saying that, which was ridiculous. I was straight, wasn’t I?

Then why was I having a hard time keeping my gaze on his instead of letting it drop to his full lips. Had I ever noticed a man’s lips before? “Tell me what you know about Carlotti.”

Eric smirked at my change of subject. He clearly enjoyed making me uncomfortable. I had to get it together and stop letting him see his effect on me. I was getting sloppy. I would never have survived what I had if I hadn’t been able to keep my emotions under control. Most of the men in my unit thought I didn’t have any. It would be easier if they were right.

Hope kept scrabbling at Eric’s legs, begging for more pets. I got some treats for her, stuffed them in a puzzle toy, and lured her to the guest room. Once she was secured there, I ordered Eric to continue.

“I started hearing talk about more activity where LePlatt had been storing the drugs.”

“Do you really have informants in St. Claireville? Who are they?”

He scowled. “There’s no reason for you to know that.”

“There is if you’re getting information from someone working for Carlotti. We could use them, but that could also blow up in your face with no warning.”

Eric ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. One of my deputy’s brothers is a bartender at the only bar in town. He hears a lot.”

“Do his patrons know he’s passing info along to his brother?”

“It’s not like that. He just mentions things he overhears. And only if it’s a real problem. Like this.”

“So this bartender knows about Carlotti?”

“Not by name. I learned more from the older women who gather at the café. They talk—a lot—when they’re suspicious of husbands, boyfriends, brothers, sons. I hear all manner of things from them.”

I grinned. “I bet you do. A handsome man like you. They must love to have you there, entertaining them.”

He snorted. “I just sit in a corner and drink coffee.”

“Exactly. No demands, just nice scenery.” I wanted to embarrass him, but the asshole smiled at me.

“Good to know you appreciate something about me.”

“Fuck off and get on with the story.” His smile widened. Goddammit, I had to quit giving myself away like that.

“Are you always this impatient?”

“I thought you wanted help. What did your little old ladies tell you?”

“A few days ago, one of them stopped by my table after her friends had left. She told me she was worried about her grandson. He’d disappeared several days before. No one had heard from him and her ‘sorry ass son’ didn’t seem to care, but she did. The kid is nineteen and prone to be influenced by the wrong people. As I asked her more questions, I put other rumors I’d heard together and began to worry he’d been taken in by Carlotti.”

“Shit. Carlotti will see him as disposable.”

“Yeah. So I started investigating.”

“You should have called me then.”

“I didn’t know it was Carlotti at that point, just someone taking over the business LePlatt had been doing.”

“What are the chances he knows you’ve been watching?”

“Very low.”

Not low enough for me. “At least you didn’t say none.”

“I have been a cop for ten fucking years. I do actually know how things work.”

“Not things like this. Carlotti is high-level as hell, and he’s nothing like Remington and the rest of my family.”

“Right. You’re nice criminals.”

I scowled at him. “We have a code of honor. Carlotti has no honor. All he cares about is himself and grabbing money and power where he can.”

“And you’re old fashioned and believe you’re helping your community?”

“We fucking are. Or they are. I’m not really in this anymore.”

“You sure as hell seemed deep in a few weeks ago.”

“I was helping my brother. I owe him… I owe him a hell of a lot.” My life. My sanity. If one could call my current state sane. He’d slowly brought me back into the world. I was never going to be Mr. Social like Lance or Corbin, but I could function longer without disappearing or getting into a fight, and the time I needed to recover from being out of my cabin was getting shorter.