by Victoria Sue
Maverick huffed a breath out, and Deacon’s heart thudded. Mav didn’t want him? “I can go to a motel,” he started, but Maverick interrupted him with an incredulous look.
“Absolutely not. You’re not going anywhere.”
Deacon might have objected to the order if he wasn’t completely freaked-out by what the detective had said. “But what if this goes on for weeks?”
“That’s unlikely,” Phan said and stood.
Unlikely? Which meant what? That they were expecting the crazy with the pickup to try something else. Deacon’s head started throbbing again.
Maverick came back in after showing the detective out. “Charlie’s shift has ended, but we’ve got a patrol car outside.”
Deacon nodded miserably.
“Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
He would never sleep. The noise of the squealing tires ran around in his head on a constant repeat. And he was cold. Maverick made some kind of noise in the back of his throat and sat back down, then gathered Deacon close. Deacon didn’t object. He soaked up the comfort.
“I think it’s time I thought about making some calls,” Maverick said quietly.
“I can’t pay for them,” Deacon whispered.
“I’m owed some favors,” Maverick said, and then he smiled. “You may have to cook.”
“I can cook.”
He stayed curled against Maverick, sitting quietly. The oddest thing was that it didn’t feel odd. He felt… safe. Maverick didn’t seem to object. It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t even sexual. Not right at that moment.
When was the last time he had felt like this?
Was there a time?
And then going to sleep felt like something he could very easily do.
Chapter Eleven
MAVERICK DIALED Jamie, all the while keeping an eye on a sleeping Deacon.
“Well, shit, that’s my landscaping job ruined.” He had to smile at his sister. “Did you turn on your TV?” she asked dryly.
He did but kept it low so as not to wake Deacon. The front of Jamie’s house was shown in full color, including where the vans had parked over the grass and flattened a few bushes. He saw the camera focus on him as Maverick steered Deacon into the house. A petite brunette in heels she was struggling to balance on spoke into the camera.
“And News Fifteen has been told that Deacon Daniels’s agent, Emmanuel Jones, died in similar but equally tragic circumstances three days ago. No one from the APD was available to comment on whether Mr. Daniels, lead singer for the band Six Sundays, was a suspect or in danger himself.”
The screen immediately changed to Deacon leading the band up to the stage where he received an award, and then to a performance of “Only a Joker.” It then changed back to the reporter, who continued by stating that News Fifteen was devastated by the loss of one of their own.
“We’ve had Detective Phan here. Did he call you?” But Jamie wasn’t a cop anymore unless professional courtesy extended to a warning about her house.
“No, I got a heads-up from Keith.” Which made sense. Keith had been her old partner for years before she left the force and he took the sergeant’s exam. Mav hoped Keith was working this case. Jamie was godmother to his twin boys. “And apparently, your Detective Phan is furious. They were keeping a lid on everything until they’d done the PM, and they have no idea how the press made the jump with Jones, unless Jeffries herself told someone.”
“Phan told us she was going to meet someone yesterday morning. I’m assuming they will try and track her GPS.” He hadn’t bothered to say that to Phan because it was so basic, and he didn’t think the detective was stupid.
“Mav, can you talk?” Jamie was suddenly hesitant, and he took a step away, but Deacon was fast asleep. He needed to sleep.
“What is it?”
“Are you completely confident Deacon didn’t have anything to do with this?” Jamie was blunt as ever.
“Yes, absolutely.” And he was.
She let out a slow breath. “Then much as I have every faith in you, bro, I think you might need a bit of backup.”
He told Jamie about the conversation he’d had with Deacon and the calls he could make, and he could tell she approved. Before he hung up, he promised to speak to her later. Deacon moved restlessly, and Maverick turned the TV off. Enough.
The silence was kind of nice. Charlie had walked around and closed all the blinds, warning them of zoom lenses, which made sense. Maverick wandered into the kitchen. He put the coffee maker on and stood rubbing his lower back. Now he’d decided on the car, he wanted to go the whole hog and think about an apartment. It didn’t need to be huge. He’d seen a lot of shower adaptations that would make his life so much easier. The key was getting a seat like Jamie had installed, but he hated the fact that the shower always took a minute to heat up while he was getting freezing water jetted at him. He knew there was some instant-heat power showers, and he wanted one of those.
Money wasn’t exactly an issue, even with the dent refunding Melanie’s college money had made. His truck had been his only expense for years, and while he had, at different stages, always had his own place, he never rented anything big or fancy because he was never there.
He’d given up his last place shortly after the accident, and Jamie had cleared it out for him and put all his big furniture in storage while he decided what to do. He really ought to go take a look.
Then he laughed shortly. In less than a week, he’d gone from verging on being an alcoholic to a new job, a new car, and possibly a new life. In twenty years, family had never been a major issue in his life. He loved his sister, but his mom was long gone, and Cass had been the brother he had never had. Starting his own family had never been on his radar. He’d always known he was gay, but it wasn’t why he was on his own. Circumstances, the job. There were a lot of people who got married, but the job got them divorced just as quickly. Some people weren’t cut out for managing a relationship long distance, and it was even harder on the ones who managed to, then came home.
He’d lost count of the number of friends who had split with their wife or husband once they had retired because living full-time with the person they thought they loved was too much of an adjustment.
Look at Charlie. They needed to grab a beer and talk, or maybe only a coffee now, when this shit was all over.
There was a knock on the door, and Maverick rolled his eyes. Then he realized the reporters seemed to have been pretty silent for a few minutes, and he walked into the hall to see. He immediately spotted the cop’s uniform through the colored glass panel and opened it. Charlie hurried through, shaking his head. “We’ve got them off your property and made them take the vans away, but we can’t stop them coming in on foot.”
Charlie put out his hand, and Maverick grinned and pulled him forward for a hug. “Thank you for coming this morning. It’s been too long, and I know your shift officially ended.”
“Shame it’s like this, but the good news is my sergeant says to stick close while they decide what’s happening.” Charlie looked around. “Where’s Daniels?”
“Asleep.”
Charlie nodded, then suddenly the silence was a little awkward. “I’m sorry about Cass,” Charlie said regretfully.
“I can’t believe it’s been nearly eight months.” Maverick pulled out a chair and glanced at Charlie. “Grab a tea.” They’d always teased Charlie because he hated coffee. Although Mav didn’t blame him with the swill that passed for coffee on some of the bases.
Charlie smiled and fished around for a teabag, then dunked it in his mug carelessly. He took a sip. “That’s a hundred percent better than the last stuff I drank with you.”
Maverick smiled, remembering. It had been the day before Charlie had left for home. “I was stunned to see you here,” Maverick continued, not actually coming out and asking what he really wanted to ask.
Charlie shrugged. “Bad breakup.”
“Aww, man,” Maverick sympathized. Charlie had left th
e Air Force for her. He’d worked his ass off and was nearly at RL 111. His promotion to crew chief was just about nailed on, but then who was to say it didn’t keep him alive.
“My cousin offered me a place to crash when I told him I wanted to get out of Dodge, and I applied and got a transfer down here. They like ex-military.” He nodded to Maverick’s face. “I guess you can still pull the pretty ones, huh?”
Maverick huffed because he knew Charlie meant Deacon. “My sister is friends with his agent. The new one,” Maverick added in case there was any confusion.
Charlie grimaced. “I see. So, what’s it like living with a rock star?”
“I’m not a rock star,” Deacon said, and they both turned to see him walk into the kitchen. Maverick frowned because he needed way more than a thirty-minute nap.
“Maybe not,” Charlie allowed, “but my ex used to love your music.”
“Thank you.” Deacon smiled politely.
“Stay inside,” Charlie said. “I’m off soon, and I have to check in, but then I have two days. I can help to watch your back while Phan works things out.”
“What….” Deacon swallowed. “What if they contact my mom?” His eyes widened. “Molly?”
“Molly?” Charlie looked puzzled.
“My niece. She’s with her grandparents out in Ansley Park.”
Charlie nodded, pulled out his radio, and stepped out of the kitchen.
Maverick thought hard. It was certainly a consideration, and he was surprised Phan hadn’t mentioned it. “We should call your mom, but it might make any progress we made yesterday null and void.”
Deacon shook his head. “I don’t care. I just want her safe. If I never see her again, I want her safe.” His breath hitched, and he lowered his head quickly as if he had something to be ashamed for, and Maverick couldn’t stand it. He gathered Deacon close, and Deacon didn’t protest. For a few blissful seconds, Deacon gave Maverick all his weight.
“I need to call my mom,” Deacon reiterated.
“How about we get Jamie to call her?” Mav said. “Mother to mother and she’s an ex-cop?” Deacon looked hopeful, and the more Mav thought about the idea, the more he liked it. He sent Jamie a text immediately, and she confirmed nearly as quickly.
Deacon sat back. “We should eat,” Mav said and was met with a doubtful expression. “Then I think you ought to get some rest. Concussions don’t magically heal themselves,” he pointed out.
Deacon glanced down at himself but didn’t seem able to think of an answer.
“At least try and rest on the couch?”
Mav could reheat a ton of stuff when Deacon was ready. Charlie walked back into the living room and nodded to the TV. “You might want to see this.”
Deacon turned it on quickly, and Mav recognized the reporter who had been outside earlier.
“And furthermore, we understand from the driver who was nearly an unwitting fatality himself, his quick reflexes might just have saved more than one life today.”
The screen immediately showed the older guy from the other car who had called 911 for them. Mav groaned. The guy had a microphone pointed at him. “Butler Cross, you were telling me you think it was only your previous experience as a Hollywood stunt double that saved everyone’s lives this morning?”
To his credit, the man looked embarrassed. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but yes, I guess swerving out of the way was an old habit.”
“We understand the pickup was intent on pushing Mr. Daniels and his passenger deliberately into oncoming traffic?”
Butler Cross nodded. “That’s sure what it looked like to me, and I understand it was the second time. He’d already reversed back once.”
The camera panned back to the reporter in the studio. “The police aren’t saying whether they have any description of the driver.” The news anchor pressed a finger to her ear. “And in further startling developments, we understand all Mr. Daniels’s friends and family have been warned to keep their distance.”
“What?” Maverick shook his head. “They make this up as they go along.”
“The cops have contacted your mom,” Charlie answered, then checked his watch. “I’m off shift now, but there will be patrols on all night. Anything I can do to help, call me.” He shook hands with Mav and Deacon and left.
“I’m hungry,” Mav said, and Deacon shot him a guilty look, which was exactly what Maverick was hoping for. He was perfectly capable of foraging for himself, but Deacon needed something else to think about, and apart from three cups of coffee, he hadn’t eaten all day, and it was after three o’clock. Deacon’s phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “I don’t recognize the number.”
Maverick held his hand out and merely said, “Hello,” as he answered.
“Deacon, this is Percy Fellhouse.” Maverick immediately pressed the speaker and mouthed Percy to him.
“What’s the matter?” Deacon answered.
“Nothing,” he reassured in what sounded like a kind tone. “I was calling to see if you had a passport for Molly?”
Deacon looked bewildered. “A passport, no, why?”
“Because Anne has gotten in a state about the cops calling around, and then we’ve had three reporters trying to call us for an interview. I have a villa on the Amalfi coast, and I think it’s better if we all go there until this dies down.”
Deacon opened his mouth but then closed it seemingly at a loss for a reply.
“Mr. Fellhouse?” Maverick took the phone off speaker. “This is Maverick Delgardo, Mr. Daniels’s assistant. How is my client supposed to see his niece if you take her out of the country?” He felt a hand on his arm, and Deacon shook his head. It killed Mav to see the complete defeat on Deacon’s face.
“It’s okay.”
“Mr. Delgardo, with the recent instances and the obvious threats, my lawyers will have no problem getting a judge to remove any visitation rights,” Percy threatened.
Deacon held his hand out for the phone, and reluctantly Maverick passed it over. “Percy? It’s okay, I understand. Just keep Molly safe.” Percy must have said something Maverick couldn’t hear because Deacon paled before he nodded and ended the call. He raised desperate eyes to Maverick. “They’re going for a month but may stay longer. He said he has cousins out there with young children and Molly would be very happy.”
Maverick took the phone from his slack fingers.
“What if they decide to stay?” Deacon whispered. “What if I can never see her again?” Tears filled Deacon’s eyes, and he brushed his hand across them angrily. “I am so sick of this,” he burst out. “Why? Why does my life have to be ruined? I was kind to her. I never knew Manny would be so stupid, so irresponsible.” He clamped his hand against his mouth and raised horrified eyes to Maverick and swallowed, lowering his hand cautiously. “I can’t believe I said that.” He licked his lips and brushed another hand over his cheek. “Manny is dead.” His voice broke again on the last word. “And I’m behaving like a baby who should be grateful he’s still alive and not complaining—”
His last words were muffled as Maverick couldn’t stand to watch this anymore and not do something, so he clasped Deacon’s arms and pulled him into him, tucking his head against his chest and sliding his arms protectively around his back.
Deacon cried, big ugly sobs that seemed to wrench something so vital out of Maverick and nearly turn him inside out. But he didn’t move, and he didn’t let go.
He hooked his finger under Deacon’s chin and raised his face gently. He was going to tell him everything was going to be okay. Not to worry. That whatever it took, Maverick would do. But as Deacon raised storm-tossed but beautiful blue eyes to his own, a completely different emotion took over. Slowly but very deliberately, so Deacon knew exactly what he was going to do, Maverick lowered his face until their lips brushed.
The noise that was dragged out of Maverick was loud and needy, so much more so because Deacon had gone perfectly still. What was he doing? He couldn’t
believe he—
But the light fingers that threaded through the hair on his nape silenced the demons, and the sigh from Deacon as their lips met settled the beating of his heart. Lazily, leisurely, Maverick sucked and licked and tasted. Like he had all the time in the world. Like they had all the time in the world. With a slight contented sigh, Deacon parted his lips some more, and Maverick willingly answered the invitation. He ran his hands firmly over Deacon’s back, tugging the material until he could feel skin, soft silky skin that enticed his wandering fingers as if they had lives and made decisions of their own. He certainly didn’t consciously remember the decision to tuck them in Deacon’s waistband and slide them to the front.
Deacon shivered, but his fingers tightened some more, encouraging, pleading. He broke off. “We shouldn’t be in the kitchen,” he pointed out, the breathless catch in his voice making Maverick’s body throb.
He smiled against Deacon’s throat. His lips brushed the soft stubble, and he felt the vibration of each hurried breath Deacon took. “I don’t think we are in any danger of offending the coffeepot.”
Deacon’s teasing slap on his arm took him by surprise, but the chuckle warmed him. “You know what I mean.” Deacon stepped back, and Maverick immediately reached for him, but Deacon took his hand. “Let’s be comfortable. This isn’t a quick hookup behind some club.”
But what was it? They’d known each other… three days? “No.” And it wasn’t. Maverick wasn’t ready to hang a name on exactly what it was.
Deacon paused. “What are you afraid of?”
Maverick’s eyebrow lifted to be rewarded by another smile. “What makes you think I’m afraid of anything?”
Deacon tilted his head, considering the answer, but he tugged on Maverick’s hand to get him to walk. “I think you doubt yourself.” He stilled. “Or maybe you doubt me?”
“No,” Maverick said. “I don’t think for one minute you had… have anything to do with this. I’m just worried this isn’t crossing a line, it’s annihilating it.”