Page 98 of Whiskey Kisses

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” I say, wiping her face with the back of my fingers. “We’ve got an airtight plan.”

My phone starts up again, its angry buzzing getting my attention.Shit.Something’s up. I glance at it, distracted, caught between answering and staying in this moment with Evie.

“Tristan,” she says tentatively. “I have to tell you something.”

I lay my head on her pillow, trying to fight off the post-orgasmic sleepiness threatening to take me down. “What’s up?”

A sharp knock at the bedroom door wakes me right up again. “Tristan,” calls Alex. “You up?”

“Yeah, hold on a minute,” I call, returning my attention to Evie. “Talk to me.”

My phone vibrates with a text. Her eyes dart to it, then back to me. She licks her lips nervously, and I just know something’s wrong.

“I can’t lose you,” she says in this determined voice, like she’s ready to argue. “Not when I just got you.”

The phone starts up again. “Fuck!” I snap, leaning over and yanking it off the nightstand. If this is Danny fucking Deschamps, I swear to God— “Hello?”

“Tristan, it’s Vance.” Vance and Jett had the overnight shift, keeping an eye on Mama Avanelle’s. We have guys all over the city, keeping watch. “Something’s up—this place closed real early last night, and no one’s showed up yet today.” I glance at the clock; it’s 6:15. The restaurant opens at 8:00 a.m. for breakfast, but employees usually start arriving around 6:00 a.m.

My phone vibrates. I hold it away from my ear to see a text from Sully.

Call me.

He and Andy had a stakeout in Danny Deschamps’ neighborhood last night.

Alex knocks again. “Sorry to interrupt, but this is important, Tristan!”

“I’m coming,” I yell irritably, my good sex vibes now obliterated by everybody’s neediness. “I gotta go, Vance,” I say into the phone. “But thanks for letting me know. Stay where you are until I call back.” I stare at my wife, who looks paler than usual, and pull out of her with a wince. She almost looks … guilty? How did we go from bliss to this? “Hold that thought,” I tell her as Alex knocks again.

Jumping out of bed, I clean myself off, jam on a pair of sweatpants, and yank open the door, where Alex and Malachi are whispering furiously. Dad, obviously having heard the commotion, comes out of his room the same time I do. “What’s going on?” I ask. “Is this about Mama Avanelle’s? ‘Cause Vance just called.”

Alex shakes his head. “I don’t know but listen, Danny Deschamps is dead.”

I freeze. “He’swhat?”

“He’s dead, him and one of his top guys,” he says, eyes wide. “They’re saying he was poisoned. Cole’s in the hospital too, but they think he might pull through.”

Stunned, I lean against the wall. It’s not surprising that a guy like Danny had other enemies, but still—the timing is nuts. “We know for sure?”

He nods, holding up his phone. “Lucky’s been trying to call you.”

“Shit,” I mutter, looking at my missed calls. Sure enough, there’s one from my brother from three minutes ago—probably when Evie was trying to tell me whatever it is she had to say. I text Lucky back, letting him know I’ll call in a minute, and look at Alex. “Do we know how he was poisoned?”

He shrugs, shaking his head. “That’s all we know.”

“Well, this changes things,” Dad says with a frown. “Sounds like your meetup is on hold. Indefinitely.”

“This is fucking crazy,” I say, roughing my hands through my hair. “Okay, we need to call an emergency meeting. I gotta call Lucky, and …”

“Get dressed,” Dad says, already dialing. “I’ll call Lucky.”

“Sounds good.” I clap Alex on the shoulder. “Can you call the guys? Tell ‘em to be downstairs in twenty.”

Back in the room, Evie’s already dressed in leggings and one of my hoodies. “Are Danny and Cole dead?” she asks cautiously.

“Danny is,” I say, pulling on a t-shirt. “Not Cole. He doesn’t sound like he’s doing so hot, though.”

“You’re sure?” she asks. “How did y’all find out?”

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