Page 33 of Enforce This
“I’ll break into his house and sodomize him in his fucking sleep,” he offered without cracking a smile.
I laughed, because I knew he would and the mental image was too much to resist. Evan would shit his pants if a biker even looked his way.
I sniffed and quietly shook my head.
“Nah?” He forced my chin up, and my eyes darted back to his. “Then how about we get down to the court house before it closes. It so happens that I was also born at Rochester Memorial.”
“Who cares?” I couldn’t hide the frustration in my voice.
I’d be forced to give up my freedom at midnight. I just wanted to hide somewhere and forget about the world for a few moments.
“Well… Demetri Valentino might be a powerful man. And he might be able to move sheriffs and state attorneys from time to time…” Eric wet his lips and grinned, “but there isn’t a judge, or a preacher in the state who will sign a marriage certificate between him and a woman that already has a husband.”
My heart dropped to my stomach, and I got lost in those dark, liquid-brown eyes for a few long moments before I whispered, “Drive.”
Chapter Seventeen
Eric
I punched it, blowing through stop signs and squealing through town until I killed the engine outside the Rochester County courthouse.
Trista nervously twisted her hands in her lap and gnawed on her lower lip.
“Are you sure?” I quietly asked. “If you have any doubts, now is the time to back–”
She threw the door open and flung her seatbelt off.
“Right.” I took a deep breath and calmly stepped out of the car.
When she rounded the vehicle, I stepped into place beside her and we walked to the county clerk’s office without another word.
“Can I help you?” A blonde with tortoiseshell glasses that reminded me of my Aunt Daisy asked from behind a cluttered counter.
“We need a copy of our birth certificates.” I offered her a half-smile and leaned against the counter.
There were a few other women fluttering about the office, but I didn’t pay them any mind.
“Sure thing.” She brushed a few papers off a keyboard and plunked down in a chair. “Names?”
“Eric Aviston and Feloni Miller.”
One of the women in the back sucked in a sharp breath. Our eyes met and she backed toward a door on the far wall and hurriedly left the room.
“Shit.” Feloni whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.
“Date of birth…?” The clerk asked after clicking away for a moment on the keyboard.
“October twenty-ninth, nineteen eighty-three,” I quickly answered.
“There you are. I just need some identification and I can print that off.” She smiled and looked at me expectantly.
I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet, flipping my driver’s license down on the counter without a second thought.
“Perfect.”
The door on the back wall opened and the woman who had rushed out, nervously re-entered. She stayed glued to the back wall with her gaze locked on Trista.
“Our State Attorney, Evan Briggs will be here momentarily,” she pointedly told Trista, while nervously fingering the strand of pearls that hung from her neck.