Page 73 of Whiskey Kisses

Tristan nods slowly, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that makes my heart race. I knew him when we were kids. What if the last time I saw him had been the last time, period? What if he’d been taken from this world and I’d have nothing but old memories of someone I knew way back when? People die every day—every second—I know that. But to die like that? So young, and so violently?

“Did you …?”

“Did I what?”

“Have to shoot anyone yourself?”

“It’s kill or be killed, Evie,” he says evenly, but his eyes darken.

“It must have been terrifying, having to make a choice like that.”

“It wasn’t the first time,” he says. “And it wasn’t really a choice. When your people are at risk, you act first and think later.”

“Did they hurt Liam?” I ask. “And Bria?”

“Liam was okay, but Bria got a little beat up.” He sighs heavily. “It was a really bad time.”

Seeing the shadow that crosses his face, I link my pinkie with his. “Sounds like it. I’m sorry.”

“The worst part is that in the end it wasn’t even just the Bratva,” he adds. “One of the other families had turned on us.”

“Another family?”

“There are five families that make up Saoirse. Well, four now.” Tristan turns onto his side so he’s facing me. “Our grandparents came over from Ireland in the seventies with four other families, people they’d been connected to back home. They pretty much ran Boston until there was a big mess with the Feds in the nineties, and anyway. We still do what we do, but you know. Quietly. For the most part.”

I search his eyes. “What do you do?”

“We make money,” he says, tucking his hands beneath his cheek. “We provide goods and services for the community. And we deal with those who step out of line.”

His words seem intentionally cryptic, leaving my imagination to fill in the blanks with silly, movie-grade images of shadowy figures and illicit deals. Part of me saw this coming, though. From the moment Tristan sat Daddy down that first morning, I knew something was different about him.

Why am I always drawn to the bad boys? Cole was into all sorts of shit too. But in the end, it wasn’t his criminal activity that drove me away. It was his cruelty, his lack of honor, like the shadow in his soul was nourished by other people’s pain.

Tristan might be ruthlessly efficient and unapologetic about his choices, but he lives by a code, an unwavering force that guides his actions and decisions. There’s something steadfast and true in him, a light I can trust.

“A real civil servant, huh,” I kid.

“Sometimes the line between right and wrong gets blurry,” he says with a shrug. “And sometimes, the only way to protect what’s yours is to get your hands dirty.”

Sounds like a world with different rules, one I’m not sure I want to be a part of but can’t seem to turn away from, either. Nervous energy hums beneath my skin like I’m teetering on the brink of something huge and scary and thrilling and awful. “What happens when you cross that line?”

“You find out what you're made of.” He reaches for me, running his hand over the curve of my hip. “You find out how far you'll go to protect the people you care about.”

I catch his hand as he pulls it away. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Which one?” he asks with a wry smile, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“All of them.”

He allows me to lock our fingers. “You seem okay with that.”

“I’m okay withyou,” I clarify.

“Yeah, but for how long?” Tristan huffs softly, those long, pretty eyelashes dusting his cheeks as he looks down.

“Forever,” I say honestly. “Besides Opal, you’re the only person I trust.”

21.Tristan

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