Page 31 of Enforce This

“I gotta tell you something…” I looked around the room, unsure if it was wired. There had been a ton of cops here earlier.

“What is it?” He shakily asked as I took out my phone and began to type. When I finished, rather than hitting send, I handed him the phone so he could read the screen.

Feloni shot Guiseppe Valentino. He’s lying dead on my kitchen floor.

“Goddamn it,”Mark whispered,his voice breaking.

He closed his eyes, but I could see the tears starting to seep out.

“I should have never come back, E. If I’d have just stayed in Saigon, none of this would have happened.” He sniffed and huffed, unable to express himself.

“Don’t say that, man. Come on.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“All I wanted was something that could protect and provide for my family. That’s all I fucking wanted.” He started to sob. “I’ve struggled and fought all these fucking years. I accepted my losses, I worked with the hand God dealt me…”

“Stop fucking sniveling,” Trista coldly interjected. “Fucking look at you.”

She laughed and slapped the side of her legging-clad thigh. “You were the king of the fucking bikers and now you’re broken and boohooing in a bed.”

“Trista!” I snapped.

“Fuck that. He’s over here with the water works like he’s the one that’s about to be Demitri’s slave for the next fifty fucking years instead of me. I’m the one that is being forced to give up my future. My career. My chance at happiness and a family…”

“I can fix this,” I whispered.

They both stared silently at me, one in disbelief, the other with a hint of hope in his eye.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, without clarifying who the question was addressed to.

“Do what you have to do, son.” Mark dropped back against his pillows, defeat in his eye. “Save my little girl, save my club, and for the love of God… If you can figure out a way to reach Mak…”

He shook his head and I nodded. Trista was still staring at me, uncommitted; so, I gravitated toward the window and took her hands.

“Do you trust me…?” I repeated.

She took a deep, ragged breath and hesitantly nodded.

“Then let’s go. We don’t have time to waste.”

Chapter Sixteen

Trista

I clutched Eric’s hand and numbly followed him back to the car. Once we were inside, he fastened his seatbelt and paused to ask before starting the car, “What County were you born in?”

I raised the brow closest to him and frowned.

“Well…?” he pressed, starting the engine, and backing out of the space.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question, Feloni, and stop being a twat.”

I jerked my head toward him and swung the back of my hand toward his upper arm. He flinched when it landed with a pop and glared at me before turning back onto Kings Highway.

“Trista!” he barked, demanding an answer.

“I was born at the Rochester Memorial. Maryette had already stopped delivering babies by then. What does it even matter?”

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