by Nia Arthurs
“If I sit still, I’ll go crazy with all the thoughts running through my head.” I glared at him and then turned to Reid. “I’ll make you some grilled cheese. Would you like that?”
Reid nodded.
Deacon sighed and jumped to the pier. He turned back and offered his hand to me. I ignored it and climbed out on my own.
Deacon didn’t say anything.
Moonlight lit our way. When we came to the part of the path that diverted from the villa to Miguel’s bungalow, I stopped and signed, “Thank you.”
He clasped my hand and gave me a fatherly smile before nodding at Deacon and heading back to his place.
“Come on,” Deacon said when I remained still. “It’s getting cold.”
I followed him into the house and headed straight to the stove to warm up the pan. After setting two slices of bread in, I placed a slice of cheese over one and clasped them together.
Doing something so normal felt intensely gratifying. I threw my entire body into making that sandwich and didn’t allow myself to think about hitmen, kidnappings or anything else.
We all ate our sandwiches around the table, but there wasn’t much talking. Reid got sleepy almost immediately after he ate and Deacon went to put him to sleep.
I headed to my room.
Finally allowing myself to observe the damage to my skin, I checked my wrists under the bright lights. Ugly lines crisscrossed the light brown flesh. It hurt to touch.
I sighed.
There was a knock on the door.
Deacon’s voice wafted through. “Angel, I’m coming in.”
I didn’t bother responding because he wasn’t making a request.
The door opened and Deacon walked through, carrying the First Aid kit in his big hands. He closed the door behind him and nodded to the bed, “Sit.”
“No.”
He sighed and knelt in front of my chair. “Fine.”
It was the first time he’d given in to me.
What should have felt like a victory was hollowed out by reality. Nothing about Deacon had been true.
“Ask me whatever you want,” he said, resting my upturned arm on his pointed knee.
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
He stopped what he was doing with the antibiotic and looked into my eyes. “Ask me.”
I bit down on my bottom lip. After everything I’d learned about him today, would hearing him confirm it make things better or worse?
36
Deacon
“What did you do to Rhia?” Angel asked after a long pause.
I squeezed the ointment out and focused on her hand. “I killed her.”
She hissed and pulled her hand away.
I glanced up, concerned. “Did that hurt?”
“How could you just say that?”
“Say what?”
“That you k—” she choked on the word. “That you did that to someone?”
“She hurt you, kidnapped you.”
“That didn’t mean she deserved to…” Angel clamped her lips shut and then whispered, “Is she really dead?”
I nodded.
“Did you stab her?”
“I used my gun.”
Her nostrils flared. I couldn’t tell if she was frightened or angry. Maybe both?
“What’s the number?” Her bottom lip trembled. “How many have you… done?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t count.”
“But it’s a lot?”
I paused. Each unveiled truth would drive Angel away from me. I wasn’t ready to risk that. Didn’t want to risk that. She was so important to me that, when she was in Rhia’s clutches, I thought my heart would explode and bleed all over my ribs.
When I’d found her in the warehouse, it had taken everything in me not to tear Peter limb from limb. I’d settled for a clean and quick death instead. That mercy was undeserved, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let Angel see that side of me. Not when she’d seemed so skittish already.
“Is it?” She pressed.
I jerked my chin down.
She ran trembling fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe this. So that business trip… were you actually going to…?”
“Yes. It was a job.”
Her eyes heated. The spark that had drawn me to her when we first met flared from her brown irises. “You did more than a ‘job’, Deacon. Rhia said you get close to the target. You gain their trust. You betray them and then you kill them.”
I hung my head. Assassination? Murder? I could snap a man’s neck with my eyes closed, but the pretense and the games got to me. It was one of the reasons I’d wearied of the organization.
“Why would you do all this? For money?”
“After I left the military, I had a hard time living as a civilian. The organization gave me a purpose. They needed the skills I had and they were willing to pay for it.”
“Why did you stop if it was so great then?”
“I had Reid.”
“What about Reid’s mother?”
I paused. “She was my handler. Over the course of a professional relationship, we developed feelings for each other.”
“Did she really die in childbirth?”
“Yes,” I said, taking her hand again and tending to her wounds.
“So the cigar shop was just a front?”
“No. It’s a legitimate business. I wanted something to invest my money in when I settled here in Belize.”
“Does Rasheed or Miguel know what you really do?”
“Not Rasheed.” I thought it over. “Miguel suspects.”
“If you’d stopped, why did you start working for Rhia again?”
“Because I missed it.”
She dug her fingernails into her palm. “You missed killing?”
“I missed having a purpose beyond the day-to-day of Reid’s care. I’d been sent out on missions for almost two-thirds of my life. I thought I could do it again without problems but… I couldn’t.”
“You’re saying you’ve changed,” she said firmly.
“Yes. That life isn’t what I want.” I paused and then decided to admit it. “You’re what I want, Angel.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Yes.”
She stood, yanking her hand away from me. “And all those things you said before… about loving me and wanting to protect me, did you mean them too?”
“Yes.” I faced her.
My heart was beating in her hands and I had no choice but to wait for my verdict. If Angel left the island, I would understand. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t grieve me.
“I don’t trust you.”
Four little words. How could they have such a devastating impact?
My jaw twitched. “I know.”
“I can’t be with someone like you. Someone who values human life like it’s worth nothing more than a bag of money. You snuck around my back and you made it worse by deceiving me.”
“I know.” I stood stiffly and lifted my chin. Whatever she wanted, I’d give to her.
“But… you saved me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You saved my father.”
“Angel, if you give me a chance, I’ll earn that trust back.” I reached out to her.
She pulled away. “Don’t.”
I stopped immediately.
Her voice cracked as she said, “I need to think about it.”
“About what?”
“Whether I’ll finish my two months here. I don’t want to owe you anything more than I have to, but—” she gripped the back of the chair with her fingers and stared at the floor—“I can’t stand to look at you.”
What was left of my heart shattered.
There was a chance she would stay. It was what I’d been hoping for. That she’d at least consider being here with me even if she wasn’t happy with who I was.
But this didn’t feel like a win.
“Please get out.”
I packed up the medicines and headed for the door. Turning back at the last mi
nute, I pleaded, “Angel, I love you. No matter what it takes, I’ll—”
My words got cut off when she slammed the door in my face.
37
Angel
My face pressed into the pillow that was damp from my tears. I clutched the blanket to my chin and waited for sleep to come. Time stretched forever. Restless, I grabbed my phone and checked the time.
3:02 a.m.
With a sigh, I got up, changed into a swimsuit and a white, fishnet cover-up, and walked downstairs to the front door.
After slipping out, I headed as far from the villa as possible and dropped my towel on the sand. My fingers dug around the hem of the cover-up. I shimmied it off my shoulders and watched it pool to the sand.
The wind nipped at my torso and legs, rushing through the coconut trees like applause. I stepped away from the fabric surrounding my legs and tugged at the string of my bikini top to make sure it was secure. The top held steady.
My foot sank into the sand as I walked to the water. It was early in the morning so the sea was still a scary, inky black. The waves rushed the shore, munching into the ground before receding like a wounded animal.
The water was cold. I huffed out a shocked breath as it engulfed my toes, then my foot and then my entire body. Spreading my arms wide, I dove in and swam until I couldn’t touch the floor anymore.
There, far from the safety of the bank, I dropped my arms and let my tense muscles go loose. The sea cradled me in its arms, propelling me along with the tide like a mother adopting a foreign child.
I stared at the sky just beginning to tinge with blue and orange.
Just float, Angel. Don’t think.
The Caribbean Sea sprawled for miles and the horizon hugged the edge of the world. The grandness of it all reminded me that I was no bigger than a grain of sand in comparison to the vast universe.
No matter how complicated my life had become, someone had it worse. Someone had it better. All I could do was control my own actions and responses.
I kicked my legs and began swimming again.
So how should I respond to Deacon?
The sun rose and my fingertips shriveled to prunes, but no answer came. I gave up and swam back to the shore. Grabbing my towel, I dried myself off as best as I could and returned to the house.
Deacon was in his office when I mounted the last step. He saw me and stood, his green eyes locking on my swimsuit. “How was the water?”
“Fine.” I wasn’t in the mood for casual conversation and strode right past him to my room.
When I left to go shower, Deacon was just leaving his room across the hall. He stopped when he saw me, his body leaning forward and jaw muscles flexing. I sensed that he wanted to say something, but was glad when he didn’t.
Reid was in his arms. Despite the heaviness in my heart, I mustered up a smile for the baby’s benefit.
“Good morning, Reid.”
He rubbed his eyes. Brown hair lay mussed over his forehead and his little mouth opened in a wide-yawn. He wrapped his pudgy hands around Deacon’s neck and rested his head on his dad’s shoulders.
I pointed to the bathroom. “I’ll take a shower and then make breakfast.”
“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it,” Deacon said.
“No, I’ve got it. I’m sure you have more important things to do.” Like plan your next murder.
He pulled his lips in and stared at me.
Choking from the tension and discomfort, I swiftly turned and strode to the bathroom. Breathing was not an option until I locked the door behind me. I sucked in a deep breath and wilted against the sink.
When I finished my bath and walked to the kitchen, I smelled bacon frying. Annoyance tightened my throat. I stalked ahead and waited for Deacon to turn around. He did, his expression sober.
Folding my arms over my chest, I hissed. “Do you think I’m a joke? Or is my opinion worth a pile of dung to you? Why the hell…” I heard my voice climbing so I stopped and glanced back at Reid. The baby was playing with a laundry basket, pushing it around like it was a sled. I squeezed my eyes shut and composed myself. “Why are you doing this?”
“Let’s talk after.”
“No, let’s talk now. I don’t want the lines to be blurred any more than they already have, Deacon.”
He set the prong down and faced me. “I love you.”
“That’s…” I cringed. “Why would you blurt that out?”
“The moment I saw you,” he nodded, “I saw my future and it was everything I’d ever wanted, everything I could never allow myself to hope for.”
“Deacon…”
“My past is a part of me. I can’t wipe it away or pretend it never happened. And trust me, I wish I could. When I close my eyes,” he did and I saw an expression of pure anguish cross his face, “I think of all the sons and daughters that lost their fathers because of me and it… I’m a monster, Angel.” He shook his head and looked at me. “I was hoping you’d never find out.”
“But I did, Deacon. And the sad part is, you’re not the one who told me. It took a crazy lady strapping me to a chair to get to the truth.” I tapped my chest. “I can’t be with someone who lies to me and I can’t…” My voice broke. “I can’t be with a killer. It goes against everything I believe in. Everything I stand for.” The answer slammed into my mind then. “I want to leave the island.”
Turning back to the frying pan, Deacon flipped the meat and said nothing.
“I’ll pay back the loan. Every penny. No matter how long it takes. ”
Deacon kept quiet.
I backed up a step. “I guess I should go pack.”
He grabbed a plate and slid the bacon into it. “I guess you should.”
I ran back to my room and threw everything I owned into a suitcase. When I returned Reid was in his playpen, but Deacon was nowhere to be found.
I pulled Reid out and pressed a kiss to his sweet cheek. He continued playing with his dinosaur, not even looking at me.
This was the right decision—I was finally making one—but leaving Reid was like tearing my heart out of my chest. We’d spent so much time together that I’d gone and fallen for him.
Just like I’d fallen for his father.
“Be good for Dada and don’t get sick, okay?” I kissed him again, holding him to my chest for as long as I could until he got tired of that and started to squirm.
“Play,” he said.
I shook my head. “Angel can’t play today. I have to go home.”
“Abel, play.” He offered his dinosaur to me.
Deacon’s room door opened and he walked down the hall. I set Reid back in his playpen and waited. Shoulders rigid, Deacon offered a jewelry box. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“A gift from my trip.”
My heart flipped. “I can’t accept that.”
He took my arm and plopped the jewelry case in my palm. “Take it. Miguel is downstairs waiting.”
I held it tightly and nodded.
“Goodbye, Angel.” Deacon settled his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. My eyes shuttered closed and my heart lurched toward him, bawling for me to stay.
I stepped back determinedly, ignoring the racket it was making in my chest. “Goodbye.”
Reid bounced in the playpen, his diapered butt wiggling. “Abel!”
I didn’t think I’d cry. Honestly.
In my mind, I’d just walk right out of that villa, sail away from the island and never think about Deacon and Reid again.
In reality, I cried all the way down the stairs, on the boat to San Pedro and on the ride to Belize City. I pulled my hoodie low over my head and hid my red eyes with sunshades and thanked God when no one spoke to me on the ride.
When I got home, I was so dehydrated, I drank a liter of water back in one shot and fell into an exhausted sleep.
38
Angel
Three weeks inched by. Life after the island consisted of doing the breakfast shift at a hotel
restaurant, working at a community center from nine until three, working shifts at the diner from four until midnight and doing it all again the next day.
Keeping busy kept my mind free of Deacon during the day, but I had no control over my dreams. His face was branded in my consciousness. Hidden yearnings popped out in the dark and wreaked havoc on my emotions.
I’d opened myself to him in ways I hadn’t with any other man—not just physically but emotionally as well.
When we met, I’d known I was approaching a dangerous fire and now I had to pray that the burns would heal without leaving too much of a scar.
A hitman.
Only I would go and fall for a hitman.
“Ma’am. Ma’am!”
Someone tapped my shoulder.
I startled out of my thoughts and glanced behind me. A stranger in the line pointed to the bank teller who was staring my way.
“Thanks,” I whispered sheepishly over my shoulder and jogged to the counter. “I’d like to make a deposit.” Sliding over the information and the money, I waited for her to type on her computer.
“The account belongs to Deacon Hill?”
I nodded. “Yes, that’s him.”
There. That sounded cool and professional.
The first week I’d transferred money, my entire body had tightened when the bank teller said Deacon’s name. After, I’d run to the car and held on to the steering wheel for dear life while I struggled for breath.
Now, I still felt the twinge of regret and pain at Deacon’s name, but I wasn’t falling apart anymore.
There was light at the end of the tunnel.
I accepted my receipt and left, swinging my purse on my shoulder.
On the way to the exit, I saw a familiar face lumbering into the bank. I swerved and headed in the opposite direction, but it was too late.
Humphries’ eyes widened when he saw me. He fast-walked around the sofa in the foyer and stopped me with a hand to my arm. “Angel, hey.”
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here? I thought you were still on the island.” His bushy eyebrows slithered high. “Did you get fired? Or…?”