Page 29 of Whiskey Kisses

“Hey. Um, I came home early to finish up.” She clears her throat, and for a split second I’m worried she’s gonna say Cole’s there. He might not be showing his face in broad daylight these days, but I’d bet my last dollar he’s watching. “And my dad pulled up while I was putting stuff in the truck, and now, he thinks I’m trying to skip town or something. He’s being …” She stops suddenly, and I hear a male voice in the background. “No, I’m not!” she says to him, a thread of panic in her voice.

A jolt of adrenaline shoots through my veins.It’s go time. “Is that him? What’s he saying?”

“He’s talking about the arrangement with Cole, of course,” she says breathlessly, like she’s moving. “I’m going back inside.”

“I’m coming now.” Cursing myself for not keeping eyes on Evie, I jog over to my car. “Lock the door. Don’t let him in.”

I call the boys as I peel away from the curb, giving them Evie’s address. The drive from Tybee Island to Savannah’s historic district takes about twenty minutes, but I make it in just under fifteen. Pulling up to the Doyle house, I throw the SUV in park and leap out, letting myself in through the gate.

The grounds seem quiet as I make my way to Evie’s apartment in the back, but I keep an eye out, not wanting to be caught off guard by my sketchy father-in-law. Sure enough, I’m halfway up the carriage house stairs when a low voice drifts across the yard. “Now, who told you could come onto my property, son?”

I glance back, spying Randall as he saunters over from the main house. “I’m here to see Evie.”

“Evie don’t need you sniffing around,” he says, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “You need to leave.”

“Or what?” I ease up the last few steps, never giving him my back. He’s got one hand on his phone and the other on his waist, never a good sign, so I lift the hem of my t-shirt just enough to show him I’d gladly return the favor.

Evie, who must’ve been listening, opens her door. “Stop provoking him,” she whispers, trying to pull me inside. Her face is splotchy and red like she’s been crying. “I don’t want him to do something crazy.”

“He can get as crazy as he likes,” I mutter as her father comes up to meet us. He seemed huge when I was a kid, broad-shouldered and tall. But his once-athletic build has softened over the years, probably due to overindulging and the stresses of running a company. “I’m crazier.”

Her breath catches as I step back into the apartment, keeping her behind me. “Tristan?—"

“What are you doing here?” Randall asks, enunciating each word.

There’s no point in beating around the bush. “Helping Evie move her stuff. We’ll be out of your hair in a couple minutes.”

“My daughter isn’t going anywhere,” he says with an incredulous laugh, pushing his way through the doorway. “And certainly not with you.”

“Evie’s a grown woman who can go where she wants.”

“Daddy,” she begins, her voice quivering. I hate that she’s afraid of this man. “I?—"

“You’d do well to keep that mouth shut,” he says loudly, narrowing his eyes at Evie. “You’ve given me nothing but trouble lately.”

I snort, disgusted. “And you wonder why she’s leaving.”

“You know, people told me they’d seen you two around town,” Randall says, his eyes slitting like a snake’s. “But I thought nothing of it. Y’all have been friends a long time, simple as that. But now I’m wondering if thereissomething going on. Something inappropriate.” He sneers at his daughter like she’s old gum on the bottom of his shoe. “You do realize he’ll go back up north once he gets what he wants, don’t you?”

I reach behind me, tapping Evie’s hip. “You got a carrier for your cats?”

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Go get it.”

“Are you listening to me, Evelyn?” Randall snaps. “Or are you so infatuated with this idiot that you’ll play the whore until?—”

Grabbing a fistful of graying hair, I smack Randall’s face against the wall, effectively ending his tirade. Evie screams my name as she pulls at the back of my shirt, but she doesn’t need to worry. All I wanted was herfather’s attention, and I have it now. Bending down, I look into his wide, watery eyes. “That was rude.”

He tries fruitlessly to loosen my grip. “Let go!” he rasps.

“You’d do well to keep that mouth shut, Randall.” I give his head a little shake as I turn his words back on him. “Because if you ever speak to my wife like that again, I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“What?” he splutters, going limp.

Snatching his gun from his waistband before he decides to use it, I let go of his hair and step back. “Now apologize to Evie.”

He straightens up slowly, staring at us in horror. “What did you just say?”

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