Blood & Bones: Deacon (Blood Fury MC Book 4)

by Jeanne St. James

  Her blonde hair was up in a bun, so that meant it was long. How long, he wasn’t sure, but long enough to fist. It wasn’t a severe bun, but a loose one, so if you just pulled a couple pins from it, it would fall around her shoulders.

  Bet she didn’t have a name like Bambi.

  “Hey, Reese! Busy day?”

  The blonde’s gaze sliced right through him, not even hesitating on him for a second as it landed on Bambi. “Crazy.”

  “Your regular?”

  The blonde nodded and blew right past him to a table in an empty back corner. She put an oversized, expensive looking black leather bag on the seat next to her and pulled out a laptop, setting it up on the table.

  It looked like she just stepped out of some big city, not someone who walked into a local bar and grill in a small town in northern PA.

  He did his best to concentrate on his soon-to-be-cold burger and fries. Unfortunately, his burger was not warm and pink in the center. It was brown. Overdone. Not juicy. Fuck.

  Suddenly, his meal wasn’t as interesting as the blonde who sat by herself.

  Confident. Independent. Most likely with a spine of steel. A take-no-shit type of woman.

  While it shouldn’t be, his dick was way more interested in the blonde than the bartender. But he doubted he’d be able to sweet talk her into taking him home for the night.

  No, a woman like her would need to be handled with more finesse than Deacon had. Or... he could play the bad boy angle. Some women like to get nasty in the sheets for one night with a man who normally wouldn’t be her type.

  The one good thing about those women were they usually weren’t clingers. They got their thrill, then couldn’t wait to scrape off the man. Were afraid of being seen with him. They had one type who was good enough to stand by their side, another to scratch the itches the first type couldn’t.

  Deacon was the second type.

  Maybe he should let it be known he was available to be that for her for a few hours. He’d love for his dick to scratch a few of her itches.

  Deacon turned on his stool to keep one eye on her while he sipped his beer and popped a few more French fries into his mouth.

  When he took a big bite from his burger...

  The burger shot its load, causing a wet plop to land on his chest.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, putting the burger back on the plate and staring at the mess that was spreading even wider on his shirt. The grease was soaking into the cotton and would be a bitch to get out.

  A giggle had him looking up.

  “A little club soda will fix it.” Bambi lifted a gimme-a-sec finger. Not even a minute later, she came around the bar with a glass of club soda and a handful of napkins.

  She put the glass down and when he held out his hand for the napkins, she shook her head. “I got it.”

  She forced her way between his thighs, until she was standing wedged between them, dipped the napkin in the glass, then began to rub at the stain.

  “Well, one place where you have piercings is no longer a secret. Or should I say two?”

  The spot over his nipple was now drenched and it was hard to miss not only the hard tip, but the titanium barbell running through it.

  He looked over Bambi’s head as she continued to rub, making sure to flick his barbell as she did so, and met the blonde’s gaze. She was watching them, her expression blank.

  He gave her a half-smile and her eyes quickly dropped back to her laptop.

  He continued to stare at the woman as Bambi finished molesting his nipple, while he wished it was the blonde instead.

  Yep, that woke up his dick.

  He pulled his attention from the blonde, put it back on Bambi and grabbed her wrist. “Think it’s fine now. Gonna rub a hole in my shirt.”

  “I just wanted to make sure it didn’t stain.”

  “My shirt’s now soaked.”

  Bambi leaned in and whispered, “So are my panties.”

  He tended to have that affect. “What’s she drinkin’?”

  The bartender’s brow dropped low and she stepped back, giving him some breathing room. “Who?”

  “The woman you called Reese.”

  Bambi’s head spun back toward the blonde, then back toward him. “Why?”

  “Wanna buy her a drink.”

  “That won’t get you anywhere with her. I don’t think she likes men.”

  Interesting. “Know that for a fact?”

  “No. I just know that she always comes in here alone. She eats and drinks alone. Leaves alone. A few men have tried picking her up and all have failed.”

  Fuck yeah, he liked a challenge.

  Bambi plucked at the barbell she could see through his damp shirt. “But, honey, you’ve got a sure thing right in front of you.”

  Deacon jerked his chin toward the blonde. Reese. “What’s she drinkin’?”

  Bambi frowned. “A vodka tonic.”

  “Get her another one and put it on my tab.”

  Her face got hard and she stepped back even further. “I guess you don’t want me calling you later.”

  “Only if you see William Warren.”

  Bambi leaned in and warned, “She’s not going to want you.”

  That was yet to be determined.

  “You know what? Get her that vodka tonic and get me a beer. But deliver my beer to her table.”

  “I hope she chews your balls off and spits them out,” Bambi sneered as she moved away from him.

  He glanced down at his thermal. The mess was gone but his shirt still had a huge wet spot. He could hit the head and hope they had hand dryers. Then take a detour on his way back to his spot at the bar.

  Chapter Three

  Reese glanced up from the brief she was writing when Bambi set down her grilled chicken salad. She also placed another vodka tonic and a pint glass of beer next to her laptop.

  She never ordered a second drink. She only allowed herself one with dinner and that was it. And she certainly didn’t drink beer.

  “I didn’t order another drink, Bambi.”

  “You didn’t, but a guy at the bar did.”

  Reese frowned. “What guy?”

  Bambi turned to point but dropped her hand. “He was sitting at the bar. I’m not sure where he went. I hope he didn’t skip because he didn’t pay his tab yet.”

  “Well, tell him thanks but no thanks.”

  “I told him you wouldn’t want it, but he didn’t believe me. I also told him you don’t like men.”

  Reese blinked at that last statement. She didn’t bother to address it with Bambi, as they weren’t friends. What Reese liked and didn’t like wasn’t anyone’s business besides the person who joined her in bed.

  Though, it had been a long time since she’d gotten naked with anyone. Most of the men she met were clients and she didn’t sleep with clients, even if they tried. It was unprofessional and could get messy. She also didn’t want to stain her business like that. She’d work too damn hard to get where she was and she wasn’t going to destroy all her effort just to get some satisfaction between the sheets.

  And, anyway, a vibrator usually did the trick just as well, if not better. No one knew where her clit was better than her.

  She reluctantly admitted that the man sitting at the bar had made her pussy twinge the slightest bit. But only because he looked like a bad boy who could get nasty between the sheets.

  However, if he was the one who bought her the drink, he was sniffing up the wrong tree. Reese had no time for bad boys. Not even for a quickie. That type was usually self-absorbed and definitely didn’t know where her clit was.

  A clearing of a throat had her glancing up from her forkful of salad to realize the server had disappeared and the man Bambi had been hanging all over at the bar had taken her place.

  His voice was like warm, smooth bourbon when he stated, “I ordered you a drink, but it looks like she also brought my beer over here by mistake.”

  Sure she did.

  Starting at the top,
she took her time inspecting him, not bothering to hide that fact. His dark blond hair reminded her of something a Viking would wear. It was shaved clean on the sides and was long at the top because he had it French braided in the shape of a mohawk. She’d never seen anything like it on a man before, but somehow it fit him.

  His searching eyes were dark, most likely brown. He had a thick but well-trimmed dark blond beard. His left nostril was pierced with a small hoop. His right ear the same. Even though he wore a long-sleeved thermal, she could guess he was tatted up since tattoos covered his hands and forearms and disappeared under the sleeves where they were pushed up to his elbows. Both arms and hands, not just one.

  His shirt was still slightly see-through where Bambi had enthusiastically “assisted” him with his spill. And because she could see the outline of a barbell through one nipple under that damp cotton, it wasn’t hard to make out the shape of another barbell piercing in the other. Especially since both of his nipples were hard nubs pressing against the soft cotton.

  He had one side of the thermal tucked in and the other side pulled out, giving her a view of his bulky square belt buckle that consisted of four letters—BFMC—attached to a wide black leather belt. His jeans were clean, but worn, and fit him very, very well.

  Where he stood, she could see his pretty long legs—the man was maybe six foot or so—and his black leather lace-up boots.

  When she was done assessing him, she lifted her gaze, taking a last sweep of his narrow hips, his broad shoulders and chest. “No, Bambi told me you told her to bring it here.”

  “Then she was confused.”

  Reese tilted her head as she stared up at him. It was almost impossible to tell but the very corners of his mouth were tipped up. This man thought he was slick.

  Problem for him was, she was slicker.

  “Bambi’s good at her job. She rarely gets an order wrong.”

  “Must eat here a lot.”

  “The food is good, the service is good and usually people leave me alone.”

  “I’m botherin’ you.”

  Not posed as a question, Reese didn’t take it as such. She just lifted her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to take the hint and mosey away to someone more interested. Like Bambi.

  He didn’t.

  Ignoring him, she took another bite of her salad and washed it down with a sip of her vodka tonic. When she was done with that, he was still standing there, now with his thick arms crossed over that broad chest of his, bunching up his biceps under the off-white thermal.

  If he was trying to impress her, he was failing. A few tattoos, piercings, some muscles and a stubborn attitude did not do it.

  “I’m Nick, by the way.”

  She stabbed at her salad with her fork. “I really don’t care.”

  That answer right there would have most men giving up, maybe even getting pissed because she spurned their advances, and walking away.

  Not this one. He actually widened his stance. Maybe to give the big balls he must have some room.

  “I’m in town lookin’ for a friend.”

  A friend. Sure. A one-night-stand, more like it.

  “Apparently, I didn’t make it clear the first time, but... I really don’t care. I have work to do, so if you’ll excuse me...” She shoved another forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

  She refused to look at him, because the longer she did, the better he looked. Things had been stressful lately and her mind kept going in directions it shouldn’t.

  Like having a quickie with a tattooed, cocky, bad boy.

  Her office was only two doors down from the Mill Creek Bar & Grill, but then, if they went there, he would know who she was and where she worked. If she was going to have a fling, she’d rather it be anonymous.

  She groaned and downed the rest of her vodka tonic. What was she thinking? Not straight, apparently.

  She had work to do and needed to concentrate. She also needed to think about the vibrator at home in her bedside drawer and not the man who still stood at her table, too stubborn to give up.

  She shoveled another forkful of salad into her mouth and went back to typing up the brief she needed for court tomorrow. If she ignored him long enough, he might simply go away.

  And take that temptation along with him.

  She almost cried in relief when he finally turned.

  Damn, he had a nice ass, too.

  No, Reese. No. Bad boys equal bad news.

  “Hey, don’t forget your beer,” she called out and pushed the full pint glass to the other side of the table. “And the vodka tonic, too. I don’t accept drinks from strangers, and I don’t want you wasting your money.”

  He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression as hard as stone. “Why? ‘Cause you don’t think I have much?”

  “I don’t care if you do or don’t. Not my business.”

  Nick nodded and picked up the beer but left the drink where it sat. With a jerk of his chin, he said, “Have a good night.”

  Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be a good night. It would be a long, shitty one since she was behind on her cases. Having to deal with her sister’s mess, on top of everything else, had put her at a disadvantage with her workload. While her sister depended on her to fix her mess, so did Reese’s clients.

  Dealing with clients paid her bills, dealing with Reilly cost her time and money.

  She sighed, staring at her now empty glass. Her gaze slid to the full one the man named Nick left behind.

  She hated herself a little as she lamented how it would simply go to waste if she left it there. But she also worried that drinking a second drink while she was only eating a salad might get her a bit loopy. She still had a bunch of paperwork to do for her case tomorrow, so she needed to be sharp.

  She looked up from the vodka tonic to the man who once again sat at the bar. Watching her.

  Her. Not Bambi, who was flitting behind the bar near him, trying to get his attention.

  She sighed again and reached for the drink. She lifted the glass in the air toward him as a silent thank you.

  With a grin, he lifted his beer and chin toward her in answer.

  Then he turned and went back to eating what she could only imagine was a very cold burger and fries.

  She went back to working on her brief while she finished her dinner and drink. The next time she looked up, he was gone.

  Standing in the shadows right outside the Mill Creek Bar & Grill, he felt like a stalker. He remained out of view of the blonde who exited and headed the opposite direction of where Deacon waited.

  He’d been out there for a good half hour.

  He knew better than to wait. In truth, he knew he had no shot with her.

  But still...

  Something about her made his blood hum and his balls tighten.

  Why he was leaving behind available pussy to chase unavailable pussy, he didn’t know. He must have lost his fucking mind.

  Thrill of the chase, maybe.

  More like stupidity.

  Even in those heels, she had no problem navigating the badly lit sidewalk past the front of the bar, across the opening of a dark alley and onto another sidewalk. Two doors down, she paused, dug in that huge black bag of hers and pulled out what, even in the limited light, he could see was a set of keys. She disappeared out of his view when she went inside whatever business was there.

  He waited a few seconds before following the same path and stopping at the corner of the one-story brick building she had entered. The business she had disappeared into had two picture windows with the blinds closed and a solid painted wood door in the center.

  He dug his cell phone out of his back pocket, hit the power button and lifted it to read the carved wood sign hanging next to the door.

  Law Office of Reese Ackerson, Esquire.

  Law office. Esquire.

  Her being an attorney wasn’t surprising. The way she dressed, her confidence, her no-nonsense attitude fit most attorneys he knew. She seemed slick a
nd smart, too.

  “Reese Ackerson,” he said under his breath.

  Ackerson.

  He quickly scrolled through his phone and pulled up a document, searching it until he found what he was looking for. For the reason that last name sounded familiar.

  R. Ackerson, LLC.

  He frowned. Could it be one and the same? Was this the connection Reilly Porter knew? The person who was hiding her?

  To be positive, he would need to follow her from her office to see if she drove back to that house up the mountain.

  But he was already pretty fucking sure.

  The town wasn’t that big and whoever owned that house had scratch. Successful attorney type of scratch.

  And the way she looked, acted and dressed screamed successful. It wasn’t an act, but the real deal.

  Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he tried the door handle. But as expected, it was locked. And from what he could see between a slight gap in the blinds, the front office was dark.

  Which meant she went somewhere toward the back. Alone.

  Right now she was probably kicking off her heels, pulling the pins from her hair, and removing her jacket. Maybe even unbuttoning the first few buttons on her blouse.

  He dropped his head. “Fuck,” he muttered. What he thought would be a random stranger, now might not be. She might be connected to the victim of the fugitive he was looking for.

  That could be good. Or bad. Apparently, he hadn’t made the best impression. Or any impression at all.

  She had been immune to his charms. Hell, he hadn’t even had a chance to fully turn on his charms. She had shut him down and out immediately.

  But having a common goal—which was helping Reilly Porter stay safe by catching Warren—could get his boot in her door.

  Door. Sure.

  But for now, she was locked inside her office and he was locked outside. He needed to figure out a way to approach her if she really was the one living up on that mountain. Even if she wasn’t, it seemed she would know who was, unless there was another R. Ackerson in the area.

  He needed to decide his next step. Wait for her until she comes back out and try talking to her? Or go get his truck and follow her home to make sure the house on the mountain belonged to her?