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

by Jeanne St. James

  “You still haven’t proven to me who you are.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, digging out his wallet. He found a business card and handed it to her. She used the light from her phone to read it. “Anyone can get business cards printed. I want to see an actual ID.”

  He pulled out his driver’s license and held it out to her, but when she reached for it, he tightened his hold. She tugged at it and he finally let go. He went to the front of her vehicle, using the light of his cell phone to inspect the damage.

  Luckily, it appeared drivable. It would need some minor bodywork, definitely a new front grill. Maybe even a bumper and new radiator. But for now, she could limp it home.

  “Your name isn’t Nick,” she called out.

  He flashed the light under the front, searching for any antifreeze leaks. It seemed dry.

  Yeah, she could at least drive it home. He’d follow her, get her secured in her house with her sister and then they could have a real discussion instead of one alongside a dark road.

  He walked back to where she sat and finally answered her. “It is and it isn’t.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Which is it?”

  “If you gotta know—”

  “I do.”

  “It’s my middle name. I use it when I’m out huntin’.”

  “Hunting fugitives.”

  “Yeah.”

  “When you’re not out hunting, do you go by Deacon?”

  “Deacon, Deke, dick. Depends how pissed the woman is who’s sayin’ my name.”

  “If a woman is calling you a dick, then she must have a good reason.”

  “Won’t argue that.”

  She held out his license between her index and middle fingers. They were long and slender. Her long fingernails were painted, but unlike Bambi’s, Reese’s weren’t as brightly colored and didn’t have such sharp, pointy tips. They looked more conservative.

  Like how she dressed. Professional. Put together. Classy.

  Not Deacon’s normal target when it came to one-night-stands.

  Though, the few women he’d known similar to Reese were more conservative during the day and went buck wild at night when they could let loose and put their hair down, just like Reese had done.

  He’d also met a few who were frigid bitches. Nothing warmed them up or made them happy. They just needed to spread their misery to others.

  He wondered which one Reese was.

  He slid his license back into his wallet. “Trust me now?”

  “Oh, yes. A hundred percent now that you showed me a driver’s license which could also be fake. Sure, come on back to my house and hang with me and my sister.”

  Deacon considered her for a moment, then shrugged and shoved his wallet back into the rear pocket of his jeans. “Fine. On your own then. Tell your sister good luck.”

  He gave her a two-finger salute and spun on his boot heel to head back to his truck.

  Fuck this. He’d head back to his motel, get a good night’s sleep, call Bianchi in the morning and tell him to find someone else to capture Warren. Deacon got into his truck and started it.

  Her driver’s door still hung open. So, he waited a minute, just in case she changed her mind on being difficult and actually wanted his help.

  No skin off his nose if she didn’t. His wallet just wouldn’t be as fat.

  When her BMW’s door slammed shut and her reverse lights lit up, he put his own truck in reverse and backed up enough to be able to pull around her.

  And that was what he did. With no reason to stay, he continued down the road in the opposite direction of town, hoping to come across a pull-off where he could swing a U-turn easier in his truck than the narrow area where they’d been sitting.

  That wasn’t the only reason, but that was what he told himself.

  With a quick glance in his rearview, he made sure she got her cage out of the ditch and back on the road. The last thing he saw was her taillights as he drove around a bend.

  “Good fuckin’ luck,” he muttered into the dark interior of his Ford. “You’re gonna need it.”

  He found a pull-off not a quarter mile later and swung his truck around, not rushing to return to town. Nobody was waiting for him in his room and it was too late to find someone to keep him company.

  He could call Bambi, but she hadn’t been thrilled about him blowing her off for Reese. And he wasn’t in the mood to sway her otherwise. He wasn’t in the mood to grovel for a little pussy.

  His fist would be simpler and cause zero complications.

  His fist also wasn’t stubborn. Unlike blonde lawyers.

  He took his time driving back through the game lands to avoid wildlife darting across the road, but it wasn’t a four-legged Bambi which had him slamming on the brakes.

  No, it fucking wasn’t.

  It was a white BMW stopped alongside the road. There must have been more damage than he originally thought.

  Shit.

  There wasn’t a lot of room where she had pulled off since the road had no shoulder. The only good thing was the road wasn’t highly traveled so it should be pretty safe to leave it where it was until a wrecker could come and get it.

  However, now she had no choice but to accept his help. They were still a couple miles from the bottom of her driveway, and she wasn’t hoofing it that far, then climbing that mountain in her heels.

  Though, he could see her trying simply to spite him.

  He stopped his pickup next to her cage and powered down the passenger side window. The interior of her vehicle was dark, but he could see a figure sitting in the driver’s seat, her forehead pressed to her steering wheel as she gripped it with both hands.

  “Yo!” he yelled out.

  She slowly lifted her head and turned to face him. If she refused to roll down her window and talk to him, he was driving away.

  It would serve her right.

  If she wanted to be goddamn difficult, so could he. Again, he wasn’t going to grovel for pussy, and he wasn’t going to do the same to help this woman.

  But she was smart. She knew she needed help, she just didn’t want to accept it from him.

  He grinned but quickly smoothed it back out when she finally rolled down the window.

  “Wanna lift?”

  “Calling a tow truck.”

  “You got coverage?” She didn’t have coverage. He didn’t even have to look at his own phone to know that they still had zero bars.

  It took her a few seconds to admit, “No.”

  “Get in. I’ll take you home and you can call once we get there.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  He jerked his chin up at her. “Deacon Edwards, owner of Justice Bail Bonds out of Manning Grove.” He left off the “badass bounty hunter” bit because he didn’t think she’d appreciate that right about now.

  “I read all that. That’s not what I meant.”

  He twisted his head and looked around, making a point. “Anyone else out here gonna help you? Or are you gonna hoof it the two miles back to your house, not countin’ that long-ass driveway, in those neck-breakin’ shoes of yours?”

  “You noticed my shoes?”

  “Hard not to.” Made her legs look as long as her damn driveway.

  “I’m not sure if I want to leave my vehicle here.”

  “Do you have a choice?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Got good insurance on it?”

  Of course she did.

  “Get in,” he said more firmly. “Last time I’m askin’ before I drive the fuck away and leave you sittin’ here in a broken-down vehicle in the dark on a desolate road with no cell phone coverage.”

  “That wasn’t a question, that was a demand.”

  “Yeah, a demand to get your head outta your ass. Here’s a question for you: Want my help or not? You got thirty seconds to decide.”

  She powered her window back up and he started to count off those thirty seconds in his head.

  A few seconds lat
er, the BMW door opened, and she climbed out. Standing next to her vehicle, she leaned back in and gathered her belongings.

  Deacon pursed his lips and studied her ass as she did so. Even in the limited light, those suit pants not only made her legs look long, but they also made her ass look edible. He wanted a bite of that perfect peach.

  He wondered if she did squats or some such shit.

  He quickly averted his eyes as she turned with her arms full. He didn’t want to be tagged again with that stun gun, which he was sure she was not leaving behind.

  Reaching over, he opened the truck’s door for her. “Got everything important, just in case you come back here and find that Beamer on blocks and stripped bare?”

  Her eyes widened and she took a quick look back at her vehicle.

  “Heard the bears around here are thugs. Probably make some good scratch sellin’ off those rims.”

  She threw her stuff on the passenger side floor and climbed in. He held his breath hoping she didn’t break an ankle climbing on the Ford’s side rail with those heels.

  Maybe he should’ve gotten out and helped her.

  Fuck that. She probably just would’ve kneed him in the balls and screamed that she could do it herself because she was an independent woman and didn’t need a fucking man.

  Heh.

  He already had a fried nipple, he’d like to keep his nuts where they belonged.

  However, he did take the time to enjoy watching her pull herself into his truck and settle into the seat with a few soft grunts.

  “You good?” He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice. He somewhat succeeded.

  She stared straight ahead through the windshield. “Yes.”

  “Seatbelt.”

  She twisted her head towards him. “Can you put your seatbelt on, please?”

  He grinned. “Got mine on. Waitin’ on you.”

  “No, that’s how you ask. You don’t just throw out demands and expect it not to irritate people.”

  “Got it.” He waited a second and then said, “Seatbelt.”

  He pressed his lips together as she growled a little and pulled the seatbelt down and across her tits, securing it in the latch.

  When she was done, she asked, “Happy?”

  “Not really, but it’s a start.” Fighting a grin, he put the Ford in drive and took her home.

  Reese set her stuff down on the kitchen counter. “My sister’s probably sleeping. Let’s try not to wake her, please.”

  “I’m not the only one who makes demands. Just addin’ a please on the end, don’t change it.”

  “It was a request, not a demand.”

  Deacon shook his head. “Lawyers. Always gotta deflect.”

  She watched the man wander from her kitchen and across her high-ceilinged great room. Her house was a contemporary A-frame and she bought it because of the enormous windows that faced the valley beyond. On a clear day, the view was amazing and endless.

  From floor to ceiling, the room and its windows were two stories high, and the main floor, where they stood, had an open floor plan. The master suite was also on the same level with the same amazing view. She had three spare bedrooms on the upper level and another large open space took up the lower one. She had set up the lower level as a more casual space. A bar, large-screen TV with surround sound, a large sectional, a fireplace, a reading nook and more.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of spare time to enjoy it. Most of the time, when she had a few moments, she took a glass of wine or a mug of strong coffee out on the front deck, kicked up her feet, and just listened to the rustling of the trees, or the many creatures scurrying through the underbrush and fallen leaves.

  If she sat out there long enough, she sometimes heard coyotes or foxes, hawks, occasionally an eagle or two, and some other animals she couldn’t identify. It was a good way to wind down at the end of a hectic day or to motivate herself for the busy one to come.

  This house was supposed to be her sanctuary.

  She mistakenly thought Reilly would be safe here, too. But now her sister’s safe haven could be compromised.

  Unfortunately, the only way her sister would be safe again was to make sure Billy Warren’s ass was caught, he went to trial, was found guilty and then tossed into prison.

  At least for a little while. Long enough, hopefully, that he’d forget Reilly when he got out. Reese knew that was wishful thinking. Men like Billy didn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Which was his sister to pay for fighting back and getting him arrested.

  When Reilly first called her three months ago while she was in the hospital, Reese had immediately gone down to Philadelphia to be with her. Her twenty-four-year-old sister had been a mess and Reese had a difficult time seeing the bruises, the cuts, the swollen lips and eyes. The cast on her arm.

  Luckily, a neighbor in her complex had heard the racket and called the police. Other neighbors came out of their apartments and somehow pulled Billy off Reilly and held him there until the police arrived to arrest him and the ambulance arrived to transport her. She was grateful they got involved—which a lot of people didn’t do anymore—and most likely saved Reilly’s life.

  When Reilly was released from the hospital, Reese tried to get her sister to come stay with her. But her sister was headstrong. And, of course, stubborn.

  Because of that, Reilly didn’t just lie down and take Billy’s beating, which he thought she deserved. And that made it worse for her. She could’ve died, but then, if it was her in Reilly’s shoes, Reese would’ve never given up fighting, either.

  A woman fighting back, and not curling up in a ball, always made an abuser more determined to beat her down.

  Reilly had worked hard for the money he stole and she didn’t have a lot, so it had pissed her off when she found out Billy had somehow accessed her accounts and drained her dry.

  After seeing Reilly in the condition she’d been in, Reese really wanted a few minutes alone with Billy Warren herself. Since then, she actually had dreams of coming face to face with him and hurting him as badly as he hurt Reilly. She would wake up in a sweat, every muscle tense and breathing heavily.

  The man needed to pay for what he did.

  But Billy wasn’t in her house right now, another man was. Reese studied him standing at her windows and looking out into the dark night.

  “Jesus fuck,” he muttered.

  “What? Did you press your nose to the glass and leave a smudge?”

  “Bet this view’s fuckin’ awesome.”

  “It was the selling point,” she murmured.

  “House probably cost a fuckton of scratch.”

  She was not talking about her finances with a complete stranger. Or anyone, really. How much she made and what she did with that money was nobody’s business.

  She ran her gaze over him, like she had at the bar, and once she was done, she turned her eyes to his reflection in the window.

  He was watching her. She didn’t care that he knew she was checking him out, just like she hadn’t cared at Mill Creek Bar & Grill.

  Men did it to women all the time and didn’t think twice about how it made a woman feel. Turnabout was fair play.

  “We got the same goal,” he said, turning and planting his hands on his hips. “We both want that motherfucker caught.”

  Yes, she wanted that motherfucker caught. Though, she’d prefer dead. Unfortunately, Deacon probably needed him alive to collect his fee.

  She slipped off her heels and moved barefoot across her plush carpet toward where he stood, his long legs planted apart. “We have the same goals.”

  “Just need to trust me.”

  Just that easy. “I don’t know you, Nick.”

  “Don’t know you, either,” he countered.

  “You’re not the one with the sister at risk,” she reminded him.

  He tipped his head. She found it fascinating that a man not only knew how to French braid hair, but could do his own. She could barely do her sister’s when they we
re growing up.

  “True. Wanna protect your blood. I get that.”

  She stopped only a few feet in front of him. “Do you have family?”

  “Yeah.”

  She hated to admit it, but she found him fascinating. What he did for a living. How he looked. Even how he talked. His English was sloppy, but he didn’t appear to be unintelligent.

  Though, she really didn’t know him. If she had to guess, he just didn’t give a damn about what people thought of him. Even so, he probably had no problems convincing a woman to spend a night with him.

  She also figured it would be one night only. He probably didn’t get rejected often. And when he did, he most likely had no problem moving on to someone else.

  “You’d do whatever you have to do to protect them, right?”

  “Goes without sayin’.”

  Even if he was a player and not serious about women, her gut was telling her he was serious about his job. That alone could be to her and Reilly’s benefit. “Let’s catch the bastard.”

  Nick aka Deacon Edwards, owner of Justice Bail Bonds out of Manning Grove, smiled.

  It was a hell of a smile, too. One that made her bare toes curl into her plush carpet and her nipples pebble just the slightest bit.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked. Since he had come to Mansfield, he had to have one already, right?

  “Know this is gonna be hard for you, but you’re gonna have to listen to what I say.”

  Yes, that was going to be difficult. “I’ll do my best.”

  He shook his head. “No. Not your best. To keep you and your sister safe you need to fuckin’ listen.”

  “I might have some opinions.”

  “No shit. Sure you’re gonna have lots of fuckin’ opinions. Try keepin’ them to yourself.”

  “No promises.”

  He cocked a brow at her. “Want your sister safe?”

  “Yes.” She shouldn’t have to answer that, but he was making a point, so she let him.

  “Want that fucker caught?”

  “Dead, actually, but caught would be my second choice.”

  “Then you need to listen.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t just listen to a man and not have a say in things. If I have something to contribute, I’m not keeping it to myself. Now, let’s hear this plan of yours.”