Page 30 of Death's Deal

Blowing out a hot breath, sucking down the whiskey, she holds out her glass. “Do you have something stronger?”

Reaching into the cupboard, pulling free the only other bottle of booze I have, I set the clear bottle of tequila on the counter. “Will this do?”

“Yeah.” Grabbing the bottle, setting her glass on the counter, Toni pulls free the stopper and upends the bottle to her lips.

“Toni. Who is his father? Why isn’t he looking after you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Death.”

“Punk bitch pussy. He doesn’t deserve to be a father if he can’t keep you safe,” I remark, but she doesn’t respond, so I ask again. “Toni. Who is he?”

Grasping the bottle by the neck again, ready to drink down more, instead of answering me, I halt her hand.

“He’s not worthy of you or your adoration.” A strange sense of jealousy courses through me, something I haven’t felt for a woman in ages. Not since her. Not since her betrayal.

Balling my hands into fists, feeling disappointed in myself for even feeling an inkling of jealousy, I growl out, “Who is it? If he isn’t man enough to look after you when you need him most, then he’s not much of a man.”

Stepping before her, parting her knees to stand between her legs, I place my hands on her knees. Giving her legs a slight squeeze, I stare into her eyes with a harsher tone than I intend. “Tell me, Toni. Now, before I go and find out on my own. That’s one thing you don’t want. Me dark diving into your life. I’ve kept you out of my life for nearly twenty-four years, and I’ve stayed out of your business, but if you can’t tell me who he is, I will find out more than you want me to.” Pulling free my phone, partially to intimidate her into telling me the truth, and partially because I really want to know who this dirtbag is, I unlock it and start to dial Trigger. If anyone can find anything on this prick, it will be Trigger.

With the call about to connect on speaker, she pleads, “Quinny, please. Don’t make me. I ask this as a favor, the only one I’ll ever ask. I promise.”

Over the tiny speaker, Trigger states, “Yeah, Boss?”

“Please,” she protests once more.

“Hang on a sec, Trig,” I say, turning to Toni. “You tell me the truth or I find it out myself the hard way. Your choice.”

With a slight nod, she relents, “I promise. I’ll tell you. Though you won’t want the answer.”

“Trig. I won’t be in tomorrow. I need you to keep down the fort.”

“You got it, Death,” he says before hanging up the line. Placing it on the counter between us, I turn back to Toni.

“Don’t make me ask again. Who is he?”

Staring at me, thick tears collecting in the corners, she blinks them away as she answers, “You are. Tristan is your son.”

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