Page 58 of Whiskey Kisses

“Evie used to work at the distillery, and she said that Maribelle was cooking the books. Maybe the Deschamps found out about that,” I offer.

“Depends on how close they are to Randall,” Dad says. “How would they find out?”

“Don’t know. But they’re the type to know a little about everyone.” I rub my chin, wondering if this is a good time to segue into Randall’s most recent botched deal with the Deschamps. “Anyway, they’re so serious about getting Randall to pay up that he told Evie a couple weeks ago he’d arranged for her to marry Cole Deschamps. He’s around my age.”

“That dirty fucker.” Dad rolls his eyes in disgust. “Poor Evie. She told you this?”

“Uh, yeah.” I wipe my suddenly sweaty hands over my shorts.

“Is she gonna go through with it?” asks Dad. “Is Cole at all decent?”

“Nah, he’s a psychopath. Evie actually went out with him in high school, and he’s been after her ever since.”

Dad grimaces. “Poor kid.”

I take a deep breath. “I married her so she wouldn’t have to marry him.”

My father grins, waiting for the punchline, but it never comes. When he realizes I’m not joking around, he leans forward, gaze sharp. “Wait, you’re serious? You married Evie Doyle?”

“Yeah, I figured it’d be like killing two birds with one stone, you know? I could protect her and protect our interests in one fell swoop.”

“I don’t know if that’s brilliant or pure fucking stupidity,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, I get what you were going for. It seems sound, strategy-wise. But it’s messy. We’ve known that girl since she was in pigtails, for God’s sake.”

I drain the rest of my coffee, wishing it were whiskey.

“You’ve always been so damn impulsive, Tristan.” My father sighs,long, deep, and drawn out. It’s a sound I heard many times growing up, usually after failed tests or missed curfews. “I really wish you’d talked to me before doing something like this … talk about goin’ off-script. Lucky give you the stamp of approval?”

I nod, and he nods too, as if he figured. “So he’s been covering for you, just like when you were kids,” he says, eyeing me as he leans back in his chair. “This isn’t something you can just undo, you know. No matter what you and Evie decide. Marriage is a holy sacrament.”

Here we go. I rub my forehead, swallowing a groan. Dad and his fucked moral code, I swear. Kill a guy for snitching? Fine. Skip Mass? Now you’re in for it.

“You listening?” he continues. “Evie doesn’t deserve?—”

“She didn’t deserve to be sold off to cancel Randall’s debt,” I retort, heat rising up my neck. “I did thisbecauseI’ve known Evie her whole life. She was terrified, Dad, and she didn’t feel like she could run because if he didn’t chase her down, then the Deschamps would.”

“Fine, but this could still go wrong a million different ways. You think Randall’s gonna hand over that distillery without a fight once he finds out?” He cuts a sardonic laugh. “Come on.”

“He’s been fuckin’ around for years. He was never gonna hand it over without some encouragement. Hence the contracts I presented to him last week,” I argue. “And he already knows about me and Evie ‘cause we told him.”

“Yeah?” Dad smirks. “And how’d that go?”

“Badly.”

“Not as badly as it’s gonna go when your mother finds out,” he warns with a dark laugh. “Anyway, what I’m really concerned about are the Deschamps. None of their attempts to make Randall pay up have been successful, so when they find out about this, it could be the last straw. There’s no telling how they might retaliate.”

“I know. I’ve thought about that,” I say. It’s all I think about. “Lucky’s already sent down another crew—they should be here in a day or two.”

“Strapped to the teeth, I hope,” Dad says.

“Of course.”

“Good. Because if this turns into a war, I need you to be ready.”

“I was born ready,” I quip, but he doesn’t laugh.

“You’d better take care of that girl, Tristan,” he says, pointing to me. “Maybe you should send her up here until all of this has blown over.”

My stomach twists unexpectedly at the thought of sending Evie away. I like spending time with her, and not just because we’re hooking up. Though that’s pretty fucking great, too. But this isn’t the time to be selfish. “I’ll talk to her, see if she’ll go, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”

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