Adele
Iwrapped up the day’s project a little earlier than I’d planned to, but once I’d gotten my workstation cleaned up and the tools put back where they belong, I walked straight out the door that led to the small staff parking lot.
We had a massive fenced area out back for parking machinery and storing parts and large tools, but this side lot was only for our cars.
Jumping into my Jeep, I forced myself to take in a deep breath, then another. My stomach was in knots, my shoulders were so tense they were bunched practically to my ears, and I was sweating through my tank top. To say this day had knocked me flat on my ass was an understatement.
Thoughts and feelings battled in my brain, making my head spin as I tried to make sense of all of this.
I wanted him dead. All of them. I wanted all of those fuckers in the ground.
They had taken my father away.
They’d tried to kill all three of my brothers.
I closed my eyes and put my head on the steering wheel. He hadn’t been behind any of the attempts, as far as I knew, but that didn’t make him any better than the rest of them. There were reasons our families had despised each other for generations.
And Henri had allowed him in the building? Surely there were other dumbasses out there with pilot’s licenses looking for work. I’d watch a YouTube video and take my chances in the air before trusting a Hebert.
My heart raced as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shot off a quick text to Parker.
I hadn’t even left the parking lot when she called. Damn, she was a great friend.
“What’s the emergency?”
“Hebert shit.”
“Gym?” The woman didn’t miss a beat.
“Yup.” I turned onto Route 45 and headed toward Forest Fitness, the grungy, no-frills warehouse where Parker and I trained together.
Not only was she my brother Paz’s girlfriend, but in the last several months, she’d become my best friend.
She had come to Lovewell last year to help investigate Dad’s death.
Somewhere along the way, between stakeouts and undercover information gathering and being kidnapped, she’d fallen in love with my brother.
Paz was the last person I expected to settle down, but here he was, smitten and constantly begging Parker to marry him.
It only fueled my belief that there really was a person for everyone. My brother was a grouch with a giant stick shoved up his ass, yet Parker could handle him. It helped that she was former state police with several black belts and could drop him on his ass when he got out of line.
Yet another reason I adored her. In the beginning, I’d resisted the connection. I didn’t have much time for friends, beyond my staff at work, but she refused to take no for an answer. So, slowly, we’d become friends and workout buddies.
Now, I was thankful she hadn’t given up on me.
Parker got me. And she didn’t let me pull away.
Didn’t let me hide behind my snark and my resting bitch face.
She also wasn’t afraid to call me out when I was being stubborn, judgmental, or downright bitchy.
The ability was annoying more often than not, but once in a while, she helped me see another perspective or rein in my fury.
When I pulled into a parking spot near the building, she was already waiting by the door, her dark hair in a ponytail and two sets of boxing gloves dangling over her arm.
I grabbed my gym bag from the back seat and hustled to the doors.
“Ready to punch shit?” she asked, stepping back so I could enter first.
I was so fucking ready.
“Are you gonna give me the details?” Parker asked, holding the heavy bag while I let a flurry of jabs and hooks fly.
“Henri hired a Hebert,” I grunted. The name alone inspired me to pick up my pace and intensity, and I threw in an uppercut.
She nodded, adjusting her gloves.
“What did Paz tell you?”
“I texted him. Told him that you were upset and it better not be his fault or I’d withhold blow jobs for the next year. He swore he had nothing to do with it.”
Stepping back from the bag, I held back the bile that rose at the mental image she’d created. As much as I appreciated Parker going to bat for me, I could have lived without the other details.
“According to Henri,” I said, “we need a pilot. And the Heberts have a plane. And state-of-the-art drones.”
“Of course they do,” she said, side-stepping the bag so we could see one another.
“Finn Hebert apparently needs work. Since, you know, his murderer of a father destroyed their family business.”
Parker nodded, giving me a knowing look.
She knew every detail inside and out. She was the one who’d connected Mitch Hebert to the opioid trafficking and linked him to a shell business run out of the local trailer park.
And for all her trouble, she’d been kidnapped.
She and my brother had only narrowly escaped, and Paz had taken a bullet to the ass as a souvenir.
It was only a graze, and he’d recovered fully, but so far, he’d made sure we all remembered his heroics. I doubted he’d ever let us forget. But the thought of how much worse things could have been haunted me.
“Keep punching,” she said, bracing herself behind the bag again. “This is next-level fuckery.”
“Henri has him working in my shop! He told me that I’m supposed to keep an eye on him.”
“Let’s go kick Henri’s ass,” she said, wiping her brow. “Or we should tell Alice. She will definitely withhold blow jobs.”
I held my hands up as the bile made a reappearance. “Please stop mentioning blow jobs and my brothers in the same sentences.”
“Regardless, I think Henri feels bad for him. He’s such an annoyingly good person.”
That was the problem with my brother. He was too nice.
Sure, he had this grumpy exterior, but it was all a front.
My dad had been the same way. Trusting to a fault.
After we discovered that Richard’s nephew Norman had been the one to tamper with my dad’s brakes, causing his death, Remy and I wanted Richard out.
Sure, he’d been with Gagnon Lumber for decades, but he’d allowed his criminal nephew at camp several times, giving him access to kill my dad.
But Henri and Paz had overruled us, reasoning that he was Dad’s best friend.
They assured us that Richard felt horrible that his actions had played a part in our father’s death.
Since he wasn’t implicated in any of the criminal activity, they saw no reason to let him go.
Still didn’t trust that crusty old fucker, though.
And now Finn? What kind of business philosophy involved hiring the mortal enemies of one’s family?
“His situation is awful. I’m sure even you can muster up some sympathy for him,” Parker said.
I stopped and turned to my friend, pinning her with a glare. “I do not. He’s complicit much like the rest of them. Any genetic link to the man who killed my father is unacceptable.”
“Mitch didn’t technically commit the murder.”
That was Parker—always a cop. Always assessing the technicalities.
“Yeah, yeah. His henchman did it.” I waved one gloved hand. “But when my dad found his stash house, he ordered the accident. And that’s enough for me.”
Parker took her gloves off and held my water bottle out to me.
“I’m on your team, and I’m outraged for you. But let’s establish the facts here. There is no evidence—truly none, whatsoever—linking any of the six Hebert sons to any of their father’s crimes. In fact, it appears he went to great lengths to keep them out of the bad stuff.”
Tearing off one glove, then the other, all I could do is blink at her. She’d been kidnapped by this man and almost killed, yet she didn’t have a problem with his sons? Even the men who worked alongside him at Hebert Timber day in and day out?
She put up her hands defensively. “I’m only stating the facts. You can hate them, but calling them complicit isn’t accurate or fair. From what I’ve heard, they’re devastated.”
Dropping to the floor and leaning against the cool cinderblock wall, I gulped my water.
Usually, physically exhausting myself helped.
Punching and sweating and lifting heavy things was how I coped with all the sadness and uncertainty.
For the last few years, from one shitty problem to the next, it had kept me focused and sane.
Parker slid down the wall next to me, bumping my shoulder gently.
“You suffered a huge loss. The trauma of your dad’s death, as well as all that followed, will take a long time to heal.”
“I don’t think it’ll ever heal. Not entirely,” I said.
I had lost so much. And I’d almost lost even more.
And seeing Mitch Hebert and his associates in jail? It did nothing for me.
For years, I dreamed of discovering the truth surrounding my dad’s death. Obsessing over every detail, meticulously going through the wreckage of his truck to look for clues.
Back then, I thought it would help. I thought knowing would help the pain, the loss, the emptiness inside me.
But the emptiness remained even after we discovered the cause of his death. Then I told myself that seeing those responsible brought to justice would ease the pain. But as much as I wanted to show up to every preliminary hearing and read every submission on the court docket, I couldn’t do it.
Dad was still gone, and nothing would bring him back. So I kept going. Slogging along, knowing that nothing would stop the loss that gnawed away inside me.
“I’m not healing. I’m not moving past this. I’m going to stay angry,” I said.
“Wow that sounds healthy,” Parker sneered.
“Fuck off.” I pushed against her with my shoulder. “Why can’t I be a rage monster forever?”
“You can’t.” Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “You are capable of so much more. This plan, to stay mad and never work through it all, is dumb as shit, and you know it.”
I looked over at my friend and cocked a brow.
She mimicked the gesture. “You don’t keep me around for my makeup tips, bitch. I’m not going to lie to you.”
I put my arm around her. “Thank you.”
“Who knew you were such a good cook?” I said, carrying my dish to the kitchen.