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

by Jeanne St. James

  “Deacon—”

  “No. If your own hand ain’t good enough,” he jerked the door open, “then Easy’s down the fuckin’ hall. Hook a left, last door on the right. He’ll be more than accommodatin’. Just make sure he wraps it tight first, since you probably ran into him while he was headin’ to wash off the last snatch he fucked.”

  “I don’t want Easy.”

  He leaned in real close and grumbled, “No? He ain’t good enough, either? Then what the fuck do you want?” roughly enough it vibrated against her chest.

  “I want you to close the door.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I want you to close the door.

  If he wasn’t so fucking stupid, he’d kick her ass out right now.

  But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t telling her that, though. Fuck no.

  He sighed, cursing himself out for being so fucking weak. Reese was so fucking wrong for him and he couldn’t give a shit.

  He still wanted her.

  “I didn’t come down here to ride you like a dildo,” she said with a grimace, then her fingers went to the cut on her lip.

  The reminder of what Warren did to her got his temper flaring again. “You didn’t?”

  “Well, that’s... No... I mean... I need to talk to you about tomorrow.”

  “It’s tomorrow already. Couldn’t wait ‘til the sun came up?”

  “No.”

  “Is that the only reason?” Of course it wasn’t, otherwise she would’ve brought it up earlier or in the morning when most people normally discussed shit.

  She blew out a telling breath.

  “Didn’t think so.” He reached behind him and pushed the door shut, flipping the lock on the knob. He didn’t bother to turn the deadbolt Trip had installed on the rooms since he wasn’t sure how this conversation would go.

  She was either going to end up in his bed down here with him or his bed upstairs without him. If she didn’t want to give him the piece of her he needed, then it would be the latter.

  Because of that, he laid it out. “Watched you totally melt down in front of me earlier. Never saw a woman lose her shit without sayin’ a fuckin’ word. Truth? Kinda made my asshole pucker. Most women just let their shit fly. But you? You pack that shit tight and deep. Figured it’s as volatile as gunpowder. One mistake and it’ll explode. I’m not gonna be one of your casualties when it does. So, here’s the thing... You ain’t gettin’ what you want ‘til I get what I want. You ain’t gettin’ the D ‘til I know the shit you don’t share.”

  She reached past him for the doorknob. “Last door on the right, you said?”

  “Woman,” he growled.

  Grabbing her waist, he lifted her up and shuffled the few steps to his bed. He dropped her in the center, her arms snaking around his neck as he followed her down but not completely. Instead, he went to his hands and knees, caging her in.

  He did his best not to touch her and also ignore her nipples pressing against that silky fucking material. They were so hard, every bump stood out even around the outer edge. If he touched them, it would be like reading Braille.

  But he couldn’t touch them. Not yet. “Let’s get the talkin’ outta the way, so we can get to the part where neither of us will be able to even form a valid thought.”

  He let his gaze slide over her face, which was fucked up. Her one green eye blinked up at him, the other was still so fucking purple and swollen. But none of her injuries took away how much he wanted her.

  He’d been bothered by how spooked Reese looked in The Barn earlier. But, in truth, he was just as spooked. Never before had he experienced a pull toward a woman like he did with her. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

  “Business shit first.”

  “I have court tomorrow. Plus, I have things I need to get done at the office.”

  “What things?”

  She sighed. “Stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Lawyer stuff.”

  He clenched his teeth, trying to keep his fucking patience. “Reese.”

  “I need to be in Judge Thomas’s office by nine am. I’m meeting my client there.”

  “Judge Thomas.” He frowned. “He’s the local district justice. We deal with him on occasion. He’s right in Manning Grove.”

  “Yes. But I have paperwork at the office I need for this case.”

  “Have one of your girls meet us at the DJ’s office. Have her bring that and whatever other shit you’ll need this week.”

  “Deacon...”

  For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t one of her negotiations. “Listen, this is how it’s gonna go...”

  She arched her unbruised eyebrow. “Oh? Can’t wait to hear this.”

  He put all his weight on one hand and slipped the other down to protect his junk before he spoke. He might do dumb shit sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. This woman did not like being told what to do and that was what he was about to do.

  It was risky, but necessary.

  “Gonna take you and Justice to the office in the mornin’. Leave him with Judge. Take you to the DJ’s office. You do your thing by kickin’ ass, makin’ them sweat. Hell, even make them cry. Once you’re done with that, headin’ back to my office and settin’ you up at my desk. While you’re doin’ more of your ass kickin’ shit, I’m gonna go grab you a new cell phone. After you’re done slayin’ your enemies for the day, gonna bring you home. And by home, I mean here. But listen carefully...”

  She lifted her other eyebrow to match the one glued to her forehead. That one was a bit crooked and she hissed softly with the pain, but she was determined to make it known how she felt about his orders. He ignored her searing look and continued, since, fuck it, he already stepped one foot in it, he might as well go all in.

  “No late hours. When I’m done, you’re done.” He shut up and let what he just said simmer.

  He was pretty fucking sure she’d never been told anything like that before when her brow dropped low as her eyes narrowed dangerously on him. Or at least one did. The other was no more than a slit in the first place.

  Maybe her marriage wouldn’t have gone sideways if her ex had the balls big enough to set down some rules. Though, he was keeping that possibility to himself.

  “Got a meetin’ tomorrow night to discuss this shit about Warren and what we’re gonna do. Tuesday, if my idea gets the go-ahead, we’re settin’ the trap for that fucker.”

  She finally said something and, thank fuck, it wasn’t a pissed off screech accompanied by clawing out his eyes. He’d done good by distracting her with that last part about Warren. Yeah, he wasn’t always so dumb.

  Just sometimes.

  “What idea? What trap?”

  Feeling safe enough to remove his hand from his now bulging boxer briefs, he gently brushed some blonde strands off her forehead. She had an ugly bruise at her hairline, too.

  Fucking Warren. Did he want the man to die? Fuck yes. But only after he suffered first.

  “Reese, I got this. Let me figure it out, yeah? Know it’s hard for you to understand, but you don’t need to be in control of everything.”

  “She’s my sister, Deke.”

  There it was. Her getting bristly. Preparing to throw down. Not liking the fact that someone other than her could take control and get the job done. He did his best to keep his tone even as he said, “Yeah, she is. And I got this. Trust me.”

  She didn’t take trust lightly. He got it. Not only was she a lawyer who dealt with a lot of people who lied, but something in her past, besides her ex-husband, made her stingy when it came to trusting people.

  Did he want to fuck her? Hell yes. But, surprisingly, he wanted her to trust him even more. If she handed that over to him...

  “Will you get tired of hovering over me like that?”

  He blinked. It took a second for him to realize why she asked that. She was going to trust him with her story. Thank fuck.

  “Is what I wanna know gonna take long?”

  “It
could.”

  He slid to her side. “You still hurtin’?”

  “I took some Aleve. It’s helping.”

  “You didn’t complain when I had you bent over my sled on the run,” he reminded her.

  “It didn’t hurt enough to complain.”

  “I’m takin’ that as you sayin’ gettin’ my dick’s worth any discomfort.”

  “That’s not what I said. And you just told me you didn’t have an ego.”

  “Look, a man likes to hear he gives good dick.”

  “Wouldn’t not hearing it motivate you to do better?”

  He dug his bent elbow into the mattress and propped his head on his palm. “My dick ain’t good enough for you, either?”

  “You’re more than just a dick, Deacon.”

  Huh. “Yeah? What else am I?”

  “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

  Now he was debating whether to hear what she really thought about him first. Not about the sex, he knew she liked that part, but the rest about him. “Yeah, babe, wanna hear your story.”

  She turned her head slightly, enough to make eye contact and hold it. Was she thinking twice about telling him? Or was it just so bad, she had a hard time talking about it?

  He knew one thing. The woman before him was not broken. Fuck no. She wasn’t even cracked. She was as strong as a damn fifty-year-old oak tree. Her branches extended out with confidence and she wouldn’t let a storm topple her. She’d probably laugh in the face of a hurricane.

  He could see why her ex wussed out. He couldn’t stand his wife being the stronger person. She had intimidated him. Strong women were a threat to some men’s manhood.

  Fuck that. That part about her turned him on.

  If he wanted to wipe his feet on something, he’d buy a doormat. He wanted a woman who’d force him to leave his dirty boots outside. Or else.

  He wanted a woman who he could have an argument with and wouldn’t curl up into a ball and cry. No, she’d give as good as she got.

  His dick jerked in his underwear.

  “Okay, you’re hearing this story once, then we’re never discussing it again. Not ever, Deacon. It’s the past and that’s where it belongs. It’s never to be used against me, either. Promise me that.”

  “You mean like a lawyer would?” Damn. Once again, sometimes he said or did dumb things. “Promise.”

  With a deep inhale—probably so she wouldn’t clobber him—she began. “My mother was an alcoholic. From what I know, she started drinking heavily after I was born. I’m not sure if it was post-partum depression which started her down that road or what.” She paused and took another deep breath, this one sounding less irritated and more to help brace herself. “She didn’t stop drinking, even when she was pregnant with Reilly. Though, somehow she hid it for most of her pregnancy from everyone else. I guess because, by then, she was a functioning drunk and my father worked a lot, which meant he was gone a lot. Even though my mother also worked, he was the main source of income in our family. The older I got, the more I had to do for myself because she was no longer capable of it and he wasn’t around.”

  “Your pop didn’t do nothin’ about her drinkin’?”

  “From what I remember, he tried in the beginning, but eventually gave up. Until the day he caught her drinking when she was... Oh, I don’t know, six months pregnant? He hated her drinking as it was. Mostly because it cost a lot of his hard-earned money and she was pretty much useless as a mother when she hit the bottle hard. But that day was the final straw. He started coming home less and less which, of course, made her drink more. The irony was, the more she drank, the less he wanted to be with her. The less he wanted to be with her, the more she drank.”

  “Vicious fuckin’ cycle.” Her story wasn’t a new one, unfortunately. He’d heard similar ones before. Most didn’t have a good outcome, which he assumed was the direction her story was going.

  “Him avoiding the house turned eventually into him never coming home. He went from being gone from one night to two nights. Then a week, a month. I heard her crying on the phone, promising she’d stop, begging him to come home. Not for me. For her. She didn’t stop hitting the bottle, but she did slow down for a little while. Until Reilly was born. How my sister didn’t have FAS was a miracle.”

  “FAS?”

  “Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. I was ten when Reilly was born, so, at the time, I didn’t know anything about it. But when I was older, I researched it to make sure she didn’t have any of those lasting issues.”

  He had no idea what effect FAS would have on a baby, but if Reilly still had it, he couldn’t tell. She looked and acted like any normal twenty-four-year-old.

  “A typical day for my mom would be to come home from work and drink until she blacked out. Every damn night. I’d find her on the couch passed out. Sometimes on the floor. I once found her in the empty tub with a bottle still in her hand. She stopped caring about herself. Whether she lived or died.”

  “She stopped carin’ about you and Reilly.” Whether they lived or died.

  “I’m not sure she ever cared about Reilly. I think she had this drunken misconception that it was Reilly who caused my father to leave. I believe she got pregnant on purpose to try to hold onto my father. But it was her own drinking that caused him to leave, not an unplanned pregnancy. I had heard the arguments about her alcoholism for years before he left.”

  “A real man woulda taken his kids with him. Or at least handed them off to relatives who could raise them.” The same way his parents raised Judge and Jemma. No way would his mother allow her niece and nephew to make their way in the world on their own. And Judge had been older than Reese at the time. Ten wasn’t old enough to raise a baby. Ten wasn’t old enough to handle the responsibilities of a household. Ten wasn’t old enough to take on the adult world.

  “Well, he never even said goodbye, so I guess he didn’t give a shit about what happened to us. I’m not sure if he sent my mother money every month. If he did, she probably drank every dime of it.”

  “You raised Reilly on your own.”

  “I did my best to raise her as my own. I never told anyone about my mother. Or the fact my father abandoned us. My biggest fear was that CPS would discover we didn’t have a responsible parent in the house, and they’d split us up. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I would not allow that to happen. My sister didn’t ask to be born or ask for irresponsible parents—”

  “Neither did you. Did she buy food and pay the bills, at least?”

  “My mother went from job to job. While she managed to earn just enough money to keep us surviving, it was up to me to get everything from groceries and diapers to school supplies. If I didn’t do it, it didn’t get done and we went without. The only good thing was, where we lived, I could walk to stores. I learned to cook, learned to forge my mother’s name on the checks to pay the rent, the utilities and everything else. Then when I was old enough to get a job, I did and squirreled away every cent so I could get us as far away from where we were. From the lifestyle we were living. I swore to Reilly we’d never live like that again. Swore it. I told her the only direction to go from where we started was up. I was determined to prove to her we would not end up a product of our environment. We would do better. Be better.”

  He could taste the drive and determination in her words. He’d been allowed to be a kid. She never had that. All because of selfish motherfucking parents.

  “Eventually, I felt nothing for her. I only saw her as a source of income for us to survive. I hated my father, too. For abandoning us. Because in truth, we were orphans. We were on our own.”

  “You did more than a lot of parents, Reese. You should be proud of that.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Yeah, you did. But your other choices sucked. Is your mom still alive?”

  She stared blankly at the ceiling for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you care?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Does Rei
lly?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “She never said?”

  “If she did, I think she wouldn’t tell me for fear of hurting me.”

  “’Cause you’re more her mom than sister.” And that was fucked up.

  “She knows what I sacrificed to raise her.”

  She sacrificed her whole fucking childhood.

  He reached out and snagged her hand, interlacing their fingers. She was tense and it wasn’t surprising. He had even tensed up while listening to her. He’d wanted to reach into her past and punch her father the fuck out. He wished he could go back and be with her. To help her. To relieve some of that burden. “Never got the chance to be a kid.” That explained why she had a hard time letting loose. Having fun. Just enjoying life. She didn’t know what it was like. It didn’t come naturally.

  Her voice was thick when she said, “I swore we’d never live like that again. Never live day to day, wondering if we’d have enough money for our next meal. Wondering if the next day the electricity and water would be shut off. Wondering if my mother might not ever come home.” Her fingers squeezed his tight. “But it drove me to make something of myself.”

  “It drove you to the point you don’t know how to pick your foot up off the fuckin’ gas pedal.” She was driving herself into the ground, trying to get where she thought she needed to be. Where Reilly needed to be.

  She had a goal, but Deacon could see she was the type of person who kept moving the goal posts. She couldn’t stop until there was nothing left of her to give.

  “She’s not grown yet.”

  She sacrificed her childhood for her sister, and now, as an adult, she was doing the same even though Reilly was no longer a kid. “She’s grown, Reese. You’re just havin’ a hard time seein’ it. The rest of us can.”

  “But Billy—”

  “Bullshit. Lots of Warrens in the world, babe. More than you know. You can’t protect her from all of them. You can’t stop her from makin’ mistakes.”

  “I can try.”

  “Who protected you?”