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

by Jeanne St. James

  She probably hated the thought of showing any weakness.

  “Well, not nothing.” Maybe it was nothing to her, but it wasn’t for him. “Did you see what he was driving?”

  “No. He ambushed me in the parking lot. Your truck was the only vehicle there.”

  “What did he say?” When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he yelled, “Reese!” Because he was about to lose his fucking shit.

  He was about to jump in his truck and hunt that fucker down, slice his goddamn throat and bury him in the woods. Then he’d piss on the grave.

  But he knew better to leave Reese alone. Warren knew where she lived, he could be out there watching and waiting.

  Like he had done in the parking lot behind her office.

  “He said he knew you were here and demanded I tell him where Reilly was and when I wouldn’t—couldn’t—he began hitting me. He smashed my phone and when I tried to stun gun him, he knocked it from my hand.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “Bambi saved me. She heard the commotion and rushed over, calling the cops.”

  Thank fuck for Bambi.

  But Reese was right, that fucker was never going to approach the house now while Deacon was there waiting for him. Warren had to have spied on the house somehow to know that. He hadn’t left this fucking house since he arrived.

  But Warren still knew.

  Deacon strode out of the kitchen and across the dark great room, to stare out into the dark woods. He could be out there right now.

  For fuck’s sake, he bungled this shit up and Reese paid the price.

  He spun on his heel and strode back to the kitchen, to where Reese stood leaning against the center island, her head hanging down and the bag of peas held to her face.

  He’d hurt her.

  Warren fucking hurt her.

  This was no longer a skip.

  This had become personal.

  He needed to get Reese to a safe location Warren wouldn’t know about.

  Then he was doing what needed to be done.

  Fuck Bianchi and fuck the bail.

  “Pack some shit, I’m gettin’ you the fuck outta town.”

  Her head lifted and her one eye went wide. “I can’t leave! I have court coming up. I have cases to work on. I can’t—”

  “The fuck you can’t. This ain’t one of your legal arguments, Reese. I’m gettin’ you the fuck out of here, whether you like it or not.”

  “Deke, no. Billy won’t come to the house. He knows Reilly isn’t here now.”

  “I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.”

  “I can’t leave.”

  “Where I’m takin’ you is only about twenty minutes away from your office. We’ll figure it out. But for now, you ain’t stayin’ here alone.”

  “Deke...”

  “Reese, this ain’t up for fuckin’ debate.” He squeezed his eyes shut, tamped down his rage and then softened his tone as much as he could. Which wasn’t much. “Just ‘til he’s caught. But I’m takin’ you somewhere safe and don’t give a fuck if you don’t like it.”

  She stared at him for the longest fucking minute of his life. Because he expected her to continue to fight. And he was ready to go as many rounds as necessary with her until he had her packed in his truck and on their way to Manning Grove.

  This was a fight he wouldn’t lose.

  Maybe she saw that in his face.

  He loosened a little when she sighed and said, “I need to shower, at least. I need to wash off the blood, change my clothes. I’m... a mess...” The last came out broken.

  Her whole body lurched as a loud sob escaped her and she began to crumble in front of his eyes. He rushed over and caught her before she hit the floor. The bag of peas fell from her fingers and landed at their feet when she pressed her forehead lightly to his chest and fisted his shirt.

  Jesus fuck.

  He wrapped his arms around her, giving her the support she needed to remain on her feet while she cried.

  Justice circled around them, whining, not understanding what was wrong with Reese. Her muffled crying had his head tilting and him getting more frantic.

  “Jussie, it’s okay,” he said softly, in an attempt to soothe them both. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”

  Thank fuck she was okay. Just a bit battered and she’d be sore and bruised for a little bit, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.

  He moved her hair off her forehead and after staring once more at the cut above her left eye held together by the butterfly bandages, he pressed his mouth to her right temple which wasn’t bruised or broken.

  He held her and simply breathed.

  He waited for her to finish crying. Because she needed that.

  And, if he admitted it to himself, he wanted her to need him.

  “It’s okay, babe. That motherfucker will get what’s comin’ to him. Promise. Just need you somewhere safe ‘til that happens. We’ll make it work.”

  Her sobs slowed, but she continued to hang on to him. And he continued to hold on to her.

  He didn’t want to let go.

  Not yet.

  When she was ready, he would. Until then, he gave her what she needed.

  After a few more minutes, she lifted her head and sniffled.

  He was tempted to pick her up and carry her, but she might fight him on that, causing herself more injury. Instead, he escorted her across the house to her room. Helped her out of her ripped and dirty clothes, and went into her bathroom to turn on the faucet in her tub. As the water filled, he helped her pack a bag.

  When hot water filled the tub, he helped her into it and while she soaked, he ran upstairs to pack his shit. He piled everything by the side door, along with Justice’s stuff.

  And when he was done, her fingertips had pruned, so he helped her out of the tub, dried her off and then curled up on the bed with her, holding her tight.

  She hardly said a word, but then, nothing else needed to be said.

  She was allowing him to make the decisions right now, but when the sun rose and she was no longer in shock at what happened, he knew that would change.

  He decided they’d spend the night in her house and then leave first thing in the morning. He knew by delaying their departure, he risked her arguing with him about leaving in the morning, but he’d deal with that then.

  It was only a few hours before dawn, but he laid awake for every minute of those hours, plotting his revenge.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cage whacked him on the back, leaned in and wasn’t as quiet as he probably thought he was when he stage-whispered, “Fuck, brother, this is every man’s fantasy. Two hot fuckin’ blondes. Goddamn sisters, too!”

  Heh.

  Deacon quickly smoothed out his grin in case either of the women had heard Cage.

  Fuck.

  No. Staying in his apartment above the club’s bunkhouse with both Reese and Reilly wasn’t going to work. Not only was it way too small, but two women, only one bed and one small bathroom was a no fucking go.

  Well, it might not be if the women weren’t related. Maybe some men were into having two sisters at once but if Deacon had two women in his bed, he’d prefer they both be able to get in on the action. Not only with him but with each other.

  But the two blondes were related and one of them was Reese, who’d probably rip out one of his nipple rings if she knew his thoughts.

  Luckily, she didn’t, and he wanted to keep it that way. She was already cranky enough about leaving Mansfield, her house and her practice to come to Manning Grove.

  However, it was Sunday morning and they had all day to figure out how she’d run her law practice from a town only twenty minutes away, since he was not letting her go back unless he was with her.

  And since he was back in Manning Grove, he was planning to head back into his own office on Monday to appease Judge.

  Well, there was his fucking answer. She could go with him and use his office to do her lawyer shit. She could use his office phone, her laptop and, if she needed to go to court,
she’d just have to take Deacon along with her. Tomorrow he planned on picking up a new cell phone for her in the same strip mall as Justice Bail Bonds.

  Problem solved.

  But the problem about where Reese and Reilly were bunking was not settled. If it was only Reese, they’d share his apartment. But the fuck if Deacon was sleeping on the couch and having the two women share his fucking bed without him.

  “This ain’t gonna work,” he muttered.

  “You’re right,” Stella agreed. “Ladies, we can put you two up at the main house. We have plenty of room.”

  Trip and his ol’ lady crowded into his small apartment along with Red, Cage and Sig.

  What? No. Reese was staying with him. Reilly could go up to the main house with Trip and Stella, if needed.

  “We don’t want to put you out,” Reese said. The discoloration of the bruises on her face had gotten worse over the past few hours. But it was nothing like what Warren did to Reilly.

  Thank fuck.

  The pictures the pigs took of Reilly in the hospital had made him cringe.

  “You won’t,” Stella continued. “We’ve got a big farmhouse and it’s just the two of us.”

  Trip cleared his throat. He probably didn’t like the idea of one woman he hardly knew, and one he didn’t know at all, staying in their house. “Or the ladies could stay in the apartment and Deke can take one of the empty rooms in the bunkhouse.”

  Fuck. He had just moved out of his room downstairs not too long ago. The rooms weren’t bad, but they weren’t great, either. And at least his apartment had windows and more space.

  Even so, it was a damn good suggestion. The bunkhouse was full at night with his brothers and Sig was right next door to Deacon’s apartment. It was much safer for the women to remain in his place. It had a solid lock on the door, and he’d be right downstairs. He could also let Justice stay with them at night as an added precaution.

  But he still didn’t like it. Last night was the only night in the past few days where they hadn’t had sex. But last night they’d finally shared a bed. He’d held Reese all night while she slept restlessly.

  He’d been too pissed at Warren to sleep, plus he’d wanted to keep an ear out. Just in case Warren decided to pay them a visit anyway.

  He normally didn’t carry a gun while he worked a skip, but Judge had brought one for him when he came to Reese’s house to pick up Reilly, knowing how violent Warren was.

  If Deke needed to plug a hole in Warren’s noggin, his excuse could be self-defense. But the actual reason would be the fucker simply needed to die. Though, shooting Warren would be too easy. That woman beater needed to suffer as much as he’d made his victims. Maybe even more.

  “You good with stayin’ here, just the two of you?” he asked Reese, who was scanning his place from where she stood.

  She nodded as she continued to visually inspect his apartment. She hadn’t wrinkled her nose in disgust, so he took that as a good sign.

  “We got a run later,” Trip reminded him. “You gonna go? We can leave Tater and Possum with the ladies.”

  “Tater and Possum?” Reese asked, her brow dipping low.

  “Two of our new prospects,” Trip explained. “Tater Tot and Possum.”

  “How’d they get those names?” Reese asked with a straight face, but Reilly rolled her lips under. She most likely knew what the BFMC’s newest prospects looked like already.

  He wouldn’t be surprised if those two, or any of his other brothers, had hit on Reilly. Hopefully Judge had put the word out, like Deacon asked, about Reese’s baby sister being off-limits. Not only to prospects, but to anyone with two eyeballs and a functioning dick.

  “When you see them, you’ll know why,” Cage answered. “It’s why I gave them those stupid fuckin’ names. One’s the shape of a tater tot and the other’s got a face only a possum’s momma would love.”

  “Oh.” Reese glanced toward Deacon, pinning her lips together. He shrugged. “So, what’s this ‘run?’” she asked, staring directly at him.

  “When the whole club rides together,” he explained. “When the weather’s good, we try to do one at least once a month. If you want, you can ride with me.”

  All eyes sliced toward him. He ignored the surprised looks. That was because his brothers rarely had a backpack other than their ol’ ladies. Bringing a woman along wasn’t a normal thing to do on an official club run.

  You trying to impress pussy? Take her on a solo ride. But don’t bring her along on a club run until you bagged her. That spot on the back of their sleds wasn’t for just anyone. And once a bitch was in that spot, it was hard to get her out without causing a whole bunch of headaches.

  “I wouldn’t want to leave Reilly by herself,” Reese murmured with a frown.

  “She can come along,” he quickly offered.

  Trip choked. Stella smothered a laugh. Cage only shot him a toothy grin.

  Autumn, aka Red, said with a hint of amusement in her voice, “That’s really nice of you, Deacon.”

  Yeah, wasn’t it? Fuck.

  “We can’t both ride on your motorcycle. Plus, I’ve never even been on one.”

  “It’s easy,” Cage told Reese. “You just hang the fuck on. Me and Rook’s been takin’ your sis back and forth to the garage on the back of our sleds. She got the hang of hangin’ on really quick.”

  Reese’s head spun toward her sister, not looking happy with hearing that. Though, it was hard to look happy when your face was all busted up, even when you were. “You’ve been riding on their motorcycles?”

  Reilly sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a car, Reese. And they live downstairs. It’s just another form of carpooling.”

  “Yeah, carpoolin’.” Cage’s grin grew even wider. “Tell you what, big sis, you wanna ride with Deke, sissy can ride with one of us.”

  “Oh. I would love that,” Reilly breathed. “Come on, Reese. It’ll be fun and after the night you had with that asshole, you need to clear your mind. And, anyway, you’re way too serious all the time.”

  That was for damn sure.

  “It’s also relaxing,” Autumn added. “It’s beautiful out today, too.”

  “Couldn’t be a better day for a run. Not too hot, not too cold,” Stella said.

  Now that the women were encouraging Reese, Deacon was beginning to regret his invitation. “Hey, if you don’t wanna go—”

  “No. Reilly’s right. I... It might be good.” She turned toward Cage. “You don’t mind taking Reilly on the back of your motorcycle?”

  “Fuck no. Who’d fuckin’ mind a hot, young blonde smashin’ her titties—”

  Deacon clapped his hands really loud and shouted, “Alrighty then! Guess that’s settled.” He gave Cage a look he hoped to fuck the man picked up on. Though, sometimes he wondered about Cage’s thought process. Or lack of it.

  The club’s Road Captain glanced at Reese and back at him, giving him the slightest chin lift.

  “Right. That’s settled. Thank fuck,” Trip muttered as he grabbed Stella’s arm and pulled her from the apartment. “We got things to do before the run.”

  Sig dropped an arm around his ol’ lady’s shoulders and also steered her toward the door.

  Autumn called out, “If you ladies need anything, we’re right next door.”

  “Yeah, but give us at least twenty before you need anything. We gotta get a couple things done before the run, too.” He shot Deacon a smart-assed grin before disappearing out the door.

  “Yeah, me, too,” Cage said. “But I need more than twenty.”

  Deacon shook his head as the man walked out and shut the door behind him.

  Then it was only the three of them. Reese, Reilly and Deacon.

  Reilly’s head swiveled between him and Reese. Wearing a sly expression, she said, “I’ll go shower and get ready,” before heading down the short hallway.

  “Is that,” Reese raised her eyebrows, “normal before your ride?”

  “Before, after, somet
imes even durin’.”

  Those eyebrows shot up to her hairline. One a little crooked due to the butterfly bandages. “During?”

  “Let’s just say if someone cuts off from the formation, they ain’t stoppin’ to smell the flowers.”

  “Deke...”

  “Don’t worry, your sister will be fine. Cage is our Road Captain, which means he’s in charge of the run. If he veers off, we all do.” He laughed. “That’d be pretty damn awkward. Maybe not for him, but for the rest of us.”

  Reese lowered her voice. “You know, I was worried about her being here before. But now I’ve seen some of you? I was kind of hoping you were all fat, sloppy and stunk, so Reilly wouldn’t be tempted.”

  Most of his brothers took pride in their bodies, a habit they got into while in prison. One, so they were strong to protect themselves while in the joint, and two, to fight off the boredom and depression. But even the ones who hadn’t done time weren’t fat and sloppy.

  Well, except for Tater Tot.

  “They were all given the order to keep their hands to themselves.”

  Reese grimaced, then winced, putting her fingers to her busted lip. Once again, reminding Deacon that Warren fucker had to die. They also needed a plan. Which meant the prez needed to call a meeting tomorrow night to get that in place. Especially since the plan would most likely involve more than just him and Judge. And if the brothers got involved, then a vote was needed.

  He’d talk to Trip before the run about setting that up.

  “Listen, we’ll get a plan together so you and Reilly can go back to livin’ your life soon. Know you’re bent about bein’ here. I get it. But we’ll figure it the fuck out.” He stepped toe to toe with her and tucked a thumb under her chin. He didn’t want to touch her bruises, since he knew that would be painful, instead he let his gaze touch every damn one, letting her know silently Warren would pay for what he’d done. Not only to Reilly but to her. But touching Reese had been done on his watch. And that had put the last nail in Warren’s coffin. “In the meantime, it’ll be good to let your hair down. But you gotta do somethin’ before you get your ass on my sled.”