Bastard. Tristan had always hated the man. He hated most people, though. “Then maybe you can get to the point and tell me what you are saying. It’s about time for me to call it a day.”

“I’m saying it came as a surprise for Brett and an officer to walk into the apartment of a known gang member and drug dealer, and see you sitting at a table with him.  I’m saying, we put people like him behind bars. It’s a conflict of interest, in a way. We have a reputation to protect. What if it gets out? What if people take it the wrong way? It’s something you should think about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you were correct. It’s about time to call it a day.”

Tristan squeezed the arms of the chair so tightly his hands hurt. He knew it would go down this way if they found out. No, there might not be rules on the books for something like this, but that didn’t mean they would like it. They’d find a way to deal with it before they risked it coming down on the department in any way, and this was his warning.

Tristan pushed to his feet, managed to get his back to Larry before he started counting.

Each step he took closer to his car, his anger grew. He was pissed at Larry, himself, the whole fucking situation, because though he didn’t feel the ache in his gut or the fear one might expect at being threatened over a job they loved, he did fear losing it. Losing his stability. His control. Part of the resource he used to take care of his mom—of Josiah and Mateo. That had always been all he had...so different than the way Mateo had fought for Josiah. Different in the way Tristan would fight for them now, if need be.

Once in his car, Tristan used the second phone and called New York. It rang and rang just like it had every time he called since he told the man to press the contact who had dirt on Javier. The longer it went, the louder the voice inside him got—questions, anger. Did the man walk away? Did he get hurt—or worse? What if he ratted to Javier? No, the contact didn’t know who Tristan was, but still. What the fuck would he do if this hurt Josiah, Mateo or his mom in any way?

Tristan called again. No answer.

The echo in his head was too loud to ignore, too loud to sit with Josiah and Mateo and pretend nothing happened, so he went to the only place he knew to go.

The Wharf. It was where he could be close to them without really being with them.

Tristan walked long after night fell. Walked until his phone rang with Josiah’s number. And despite the massive ball of anger and confusion growing inside him, his body slightly started to release tension at the name on the screen.

“Hello,” Tristan said into the phone.

“Hey... It’s late. We wanted to check in with you.”

“Is Mateo home?”

“Yes.”

A little more of the tension eased out of him. Mateo wasn’t running. He was still there. As much as he hated himself for it, Tristan envied him for that. Envied that he dealt with things better than he did. Envied the things he’d done and the fact that he was still there, always there, while Tristan so often hid. Maybe it was the respect he always felt for Mateo that made that small part of Tristan envy him.

Despite loving them, and knowing that whatever happened at work would be worth it because he loved the two men at home a hell of a lot more than his job or anything else, he couldn’t be around them right now.

He worried he would fail them—with Javier, and if things went worse at his job. “I won’t be home until late tonight. I have some things I need to take care of.”

Josiah would assume he meant work, and even though he’d never lied to him before, Tristan let him think that. It would be better than Josiah or Mateo worrying.

“Is everything okay?” Josiah asked.

“It will be.” Tristan paused. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The second he hung up, the other phone rang. Tristan answered it on the second ring. “What did you find out?”

“Javier has been doing shit behind the gang’s back for years. Even though he’s locked up, it’s still Ricky Sanchez’s show. Motherfucker doesn’t like that. Ricky has this son, Mateo—”

“What about him?” Tristan’s eyes went blurry and his throat felt like it was closing up.

“I don’t know Javier’s beef with him or with Ricky, but Dagger said he overheard some shit Javier said. He organized an attack, rival gang shit, on someone close to Mateo. I don’t know who it was, but apparently it didn’t go down as planned. Mateo showed up, took one of them out, Javier swooped in as the hero, but really it was all fucking him.”