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“No,” Leroy repeated, his hand slicing through the air. “You don’t need to leave. It’s time the Chief was put down.”
“You do hear yourselves, right?” Cadence questioned, her eyes moving between us. “You can’t just,” she paused, “Kill someone because they threaten me.”
Leroy and I exchanged a glance. “Yes we can.”
“Okaaay,” Cadence replied, pulling back far enough she could look at both of us. “Well, just so we’re clear, you shouldn’t kill people.”
“Some people need killing,” Leroy muttered, his face dark. “And I have no problem taking care of business.”
“I believe you,” Cadence said seriously. “But I don’t want you to get in trouble,” she continued, patting old Leroy on the arm. “You still haven’t given me the coffee recipe.”
I coughed, trying to hide my laugh, but it didn’t fool Leroy.
“Still haven’t decided if you ruined it washing my damn pot.”
Cadence rolled her eyes. “Twice a day! You need to wash it twice a day,” she exclaimed. “And you know its better.”
He harrumphed, but didn’t disagree.
“We should go,” I told Cadence and she gave me a concerned glance.
“Your uncle?”
“Not an issue for tonight.” I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “If you want to press charges against him….” I didn’t finish, already suspecting what her answer would be, and she didn’t let me down.
“No,” she answered, shaking her head, her expression part apologetic and part anxious. “It’s not necessary.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, not wanting her to feel bad about her decision. “I’m going to bring a case against him for,” I paused and Cadence finished my sentence.
“Hitting you.”
“Among other things.”
“What about your mom?” Cadence questioned, cutting straight to the heart of it.
“I’ll talk to her. She’ll understand,” I lied, not sure at all about my mom’s reaction to what I was going to do.
“She might take it better than you think,” Cadence murmured enigmatically. She turned to Leroy. “Thank you for letting us in. I know you wanted to go home.” She held out her hand and he took it gently.
“If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask.”
“I will and I’ll be back tomorrow,” she replied. “I’ll need my coffee and you really need to update your inventory system.”
“Pen and paper has worked for fifty years,” Leroy started to argue and I could see Cadence about to comment.
“And we need to go,” I interjected, feeling the day catching up with me. I hadn’t had nearly as much coffee as Cadence.
“You take care of her,” Leroy barked, giving me a hard stare. I nodded slowly, surprised by his ferocity. “I mean it, Noah Breaux. Anything happens to this girl and you’ll answer for it.”
“Don’t worry. Anything happens to her and I’ll gladly take any punishment,” I answered, and he must have heard the sincerity in my voice because he gave one, short, sharp nod.
“I really don’t understand the dynamics here,” Cadence muttered under her breath as she headed for the door. “Kill this person, punish this person. I think y’all need a talking stick or something.”
We got in the car, Leroy locking up behind us, and I knew he was keeping an eye out as we drove away.
“You know he really doesn’t like your uncle,” Cadence commented, glancing at me.
“Hate is a better word,” I replied. “Uncle Cal killed his son.”
“What?” Cadence gasped. “Why?”
I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably. “Remember my dad?”
“The noble armed robber?”
I snorted at that description. “Yeah, well he had an accomplice.”
“No,” Cadence breathed, already guessing where I was going.
“Yep. I think Leroy’s boy was seventeen. Young and stupid. My dad wasn’t a bad guy but he got Leroy’s son killed.”
“That’s horrible.” Cadence shook her head. “Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t hate your uncle?”
“Now that you’ve met him, what do you think?” I asked rhetorically.
“He knew my mom,” Cadence said abruptly. “He called me Moira.” I glanced over and seeing the worry on her face, reached for her hand. “Your mom warned me this place was dangerous. Do you think this is what she meant? Your uncle?”
“I don’t know. But we can ask her.”
“I thought coming here would be easier,” she admitted. “But I think I’m discovering why my mom left and,” she stopped, letting out a deep breath.
“And?”
She met my eyes for a brief second. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have left already.” She stared straight ahead, blinking hard. “Part of me thinks I should leave.” I squeezed her hand hard and she glanced down at our entwined fingers. “And part of me is so tired of running.”
“You don’t have to run. I’ll help you.” I stopped, knowing I wasn’t being completely honest with either of us. I inhaled and fessed up, “Wait.” She looked at me curiously. “The truth is, I don’t want you to go. I’m asking you to stay and I realize that staying could be dangerous for you and for me, but I’m still asking.” I met her eyes before looking back at the road. “Don’t run. Stay with me and fight. Let’s see where this goes.”
