Page 25 of The Heir

“Ah, Aunt Trista, don’t be upset. He isn’t angry with you. It’s just that stupid shit–” I choked on my words, suddenly unsure if I should repeat it, or just chalk it up as Makaveli venting and raging.

I didn’t know the politics of the club, or the intricacies of my aunt’s relationship with her brother.

“What stupid shit?” Easy mumbled, almost sounding disinterested, until he saw the way I tried to focus my attention outside the window.

He adjusted the rearview mirror and stared expectantly at me, “The fuck are you on about back there?”

I groaned and glanced at Marchella and then the eyes in the mirror.

“What?” She nervously laughed.

I let out a defeated sigh, “We were in a cage together. Last night, at the jail.”

“A cell?” Easy offered, his brow raising a bit.

“Yeah. That.” I nodded.

“All of you?” Marchella’s voice raised with a hint of surprise.

“Yeah.” The way I stressed the word left everyone staring at me.

Easy opted to halt at the stop sign, rather than pull into the traffic passing in front of the courthouse.

“Fuck.” I cleared my throat, “Makaveli told Mayhem that his real father was Demetri Valentino.”

Easy’s jaw went slack, and his foot must have, too, that fucking car scraped loudly against the downward slope of the parking lot exit.

“Fuck. Shit. What the fuck?” Easy blurted out, swerving into traffic while staring back at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you fuckin’ with me right now?”

Trista didn’t say a word, her hand was parked over her mouth.

“My dad’s an asshole. He’s like a wounded animal; when he’s hurt, he wants others to hurt. He doesn’t know Blaze well enough to hurt him. I’m guessing Mayhem was the only other person in the cell?”

I gave a slow nod, impressed at her ability to analyze her own father so candidly.

“Well– Yeah, inside. There were police outside the cell keeping us under surveillance and making sure we didn’t kill each other, by the time he said all that.”

“What?” Trista had completely turned around in the passenger seat. “Why would they think that? Did he fucking hurt my son?”

Her nephew’s homicidal twinkle didn’t have shit on the coldness I saw in her eyes when she asked that question.

“No. No, Mayhem called the guards because he was scared.”

“Scared of what?” Easy and Trista both spat at the same time.

“I told Makaveli he was a joke. That he wasted his time trying to convince everyone he was some kind of problem or a threat, but everyone sees the truth… More or less.”

“My mother fuckin’ nephew.” Easy tapped the side of Trista’s thigh hard enough to make her jump.

She slapped him back without hesitation, connecting with his upper arm, and sending the vehicle swerving toward the middle line. Easy laughed, but Marchella was still staring at me without a sound. I could feel it, even if I hadn’t found enough balls to look at her, after snitching on her father like that.

“Where the fuck are you going, Asshole?” Trista laughed.

“The fuck you mean? I’m going to find a bail bondsman.” He huffed.

“A ba– a bail bondsman?” she stammered, her face slowly drawing into a squint. “What the fuck…”

Easy flubbed his lips, “Sit there and act like you don’t know. I’m gonna bail that mother fucker out, just so I can have the satisfaction of slapping this cocksucker until I ain’t got no goddamn knuckles left. That’s what the fuck is about to happen.”

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