“Fine. You want the gory details so you can have nightmares and never want to be in the same room with me again?”
Lowering her eyes, she replied, “Not really.”
“Then don’t fucking ask me questions like that, because you won’t like the answers. All you need to know is he’s dead and will never be able to hurt anyone ever again.”
“How did he hurt you?” she asked, her dark eyes once again finding mine. They were so fucking hypnotic I could barely look away. She had to be doing some kind of hypnotizing hoodoo to make me talk as much as I had.
“He’s a waste of air to talk about.”
“I still want to know.”
I threw up my hands in defeat. “My old man was fucking evil incarnate. What the hell my mother ever saw in him, I’ll never know. Guess she thought she could change him, save him from what he was. But he only ended up taking her down with him. When I was two, he pushed her down a flight of stairs when she was eight months pregnant. Said he didn’t need another mouth to feed. Lucky for him, my sister came stillborn.”
Alexandra reached for my hand, but I jerked it away. Her expression saddened both at what I had said and probably how I reacted to her. “Your poor mother.”
“She tried leaving him a bunch of times. Before my grandparents kicked it, she stayed with them some, but they were both so old and sick that they weren’t any help to her against my dad. He’d threaten to kill them if she didn’t come home to him.” I shook my head as my voice choked off with emotion. “She must’ve felt like a fucking trapped animal.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She was beautiful, with long dark hair and dark eyes. Willow’s going to look just like her.”
“So you look like your mother?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
I tried to recall as much of my seven years with her as I could. “She smelled like apricots because she loved to wear this apricot lotion.” A shaky laugh rumbled through me at one particular memory. “One time she didn’t have the money to get any lotion. So being a scrappy five-year-old, I stole some off the shelf. I couldn’t understand why in the hell she dragged me back there. She made me give it to the store manager along with an apology. But then, in her own patient way, she made me understand how wrong it was to steal. More than anything, she said, she wanted me to be better than my father.” Reaching into my pocket, I tugged out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. Alexandra didn’t protest when I lit up. After a long drag, I said, “After all her hard work, she probably wouldn’t be too proud of me today.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“And you’re obviously too naive. What part of my world don’t you understand? I told you I killed my fucking father.”
“Why did you kill him, Deacon?” she repeated. Although she had asked it before, it seemed to be addressed in a different way. She must’ve known how I felt perfectly justified in killing him, but she still wanted more. She wanted to make me dig up that emotional grave where I had long buried the reasons that drove me to murder my bastard of a father when I was still practically a kid. After all, I was seemingly loyal, and the greatest breach of loyalty was killing your own blood.
Even though I should’ve ignored her question and stalked out of the room, I decided to give her what she was after. Then maybe she could once and for all know what an unimaginable bastard I was.
“Because he killed my mother! He tracked her down and tortured her like a fucking animal. He couldn’t just slit her throat or shoot her. No. He made her pay for running from him. He beat her until she died from internal bleeding and a fractured skull that sent bone fragments slicing into her brain.” Shaky hands brought the cigarette to my lips so I could take a drag. Sometimes late at night, if things were too quiet, I could hear her screams … hear her begging for her life. Then finally her pleading for my life.
“Where were you when your mother was being killed?”
“Why do you have to ask so many fucking questions? Are you some kind of morbid freak that gets off on shit like this? A masochist for emotional pain?”
Instead of cowering back at my verbal assault, Alex stood firm. “Where were you?” she repeated.
“Why do you need to know? What could you possibly get by fucking knowing?”
“It isn’t for me that I’m asking. It’s for you.”
I tossed the cigarette onto the ashtray on the table, then lunged at Alex. Taking her by the throat with one hand, I glared into her eyes with enough venom that she should have cowered in fear. “If you were a man, I’d take you down for fucking with me like this.”
“If hitting me makes you feel better, frees you of the pain, then hit me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Answer my question.”
“You got a death wish, woman?”
“He tied you up, didn’t he?” When my nostrils flared with anger, she said, “He didn’t just leave you in the car or another room. He made you watch what he did, but you couldn’t do anything to help her.”
Squeezing tighter on her throat, I willed her to shut up. She was too close. She knew too much. She could see me too well.
Her fingers came to my hand, her nails digging into my skin. But as I stared into her eyes, there was no panic or fear in them. Easing back, I dropped the hand from her throat. I eyed it with contempt before dropping it beside me. What the hell had I been thinking to manhandle her like that? “I’m sorry,” I croaked.
“No. I’m the one who is sorry.”
“You damn well ought to be after pulling the shit you just did.”
“I’m not sorry for that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry for the helpless seven-year-old little boy who has been forced to carry around such a burden, such guilt, for something he couldn’t control.”
I practically leaped off the bed to get away from her. “Don’t you fucking dare start that pity shit with me!”
“I’m sorry that you’ve never been able to open up to anyone before for fear that they won’t love your darker parts.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Although I wanted to march straight for the bar and down a few shots, my boots remained rooted to the hallway floor.
God, the things I’d said to her—the deepest, darkest parts of myself. No woman had ever gotten that much from me. Not Mama Beth, not Lacey. Fear had always bound me from revealing too much. That if they knew the real me, they couldn’t love me. Sure, they may have had their ideas about what I got up to in my business, but they never questioned me about it. Hell, no one had grilled me like Alexandra had.
For reasons I couldn’t fucking understand, I didn’t escape down the hall to throw some back with my brothers. Instead, I opened the fucking bedroom door and slipped back inside.
Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet pulled up to her chest. Her brows rose at the sight of me. “Me coming back in here doesn’t mean I agree with what you said.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
I crossed the room to the bed. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Miss Evans.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”
Jerking my chin at her, I said, “Go on and lie back down.”
“You don’t want me to go?”
“No, I don’t.”
Surprise flooded her face. “I just expected that—”
“Don’t you ever shut up?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly before she flounced back in the bed, burrowing under the covers. Of course, while she was doing that, I got another flash of her bra-covered tits and those damn boy shorts. While her behavior still had me fuming, just the sight of that petite yet strong body of hers fueled other reactions in me. Damn, that woman.
Once she was covered, I walked around the side of the bed. I eased down on the mattress to honor her request of staying until she fell asleep. Of course, I kept my ass on top of the covers and as far away as I could from h
er. When I thought she had finally settled down, I reached over and hit the light.
“Deacon?” she implored.
“Alex, if you know what is good for you right now, you’ll close your fucking eyes and go to sleep.”
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
“What the hell for?”
“For talking with me tonight. It means a lot.”
While I would never admit it to her, it meant a lot to me, too. The smallest sliver of peace ran through me. Regardless of how small it was, I would gladly take it. “Yeah, whatever,” I grumbled.
Then I allowed myself to fall asleep next to a woman without sex for the first time in my life.
Sunlight streamed across the bed, warming me from beneath the sheets. The moment my eyelids fluttered open, panic set in. Where was I? My eyes frantically spun around the room. And then it all came rushing back to me along with the feeling of a brass band pounding out a rhythm in my aching head. I groaned as the memories of getting drunk off my ass and begging Deacon to stay with me flooded my mind. It also didn’t escape me that I was in just my bra and panties. Of course, I was glad to remember that it had been me who’d taken my clothes off and not Deacon.
Holy shit. I’d slept with Deacon.
Glancing over, I found the bed empty. For some reason, it bothered me more than it should have. When I rolled over, I felt the indentation Deacon had made in the bed. I guess he really had stayed just until I’d fallen asleep.
When I thought of what I’d told him and what he’d told me, I flopped onto my back and rubbed my head. I’d never imagined he would be so open and honest with me. Even though he’d done it kicking and screaming, it meant so much to me. I don’t know what it was within me that needed for him to entrust something so dark to me. Even though he wouldn’t acknowledge it, I could see him so much better than he could have ever imagined. He had locked himself down so tight emotionally that the only way he could fully accept and love Willow would be to let go of the ghosts of the past and the pain they still inflicted on him.
While I should have been horrified that he had murdered his father, I wasn’t. After the lifetime of hell he had faced, coupled with his mother’s death, he had been justified in doing what he did. I didn’t know what it said about me as a person that I could overlook something so terrible in his past. Maybe it was what I had been through myself.
A knock came at the door. “Yes?” I called, pulling the covers up to my neck.
Deacon appeared with a cup of coffee and something wrapped in a napkin. “Mama Beth sent this to you.”
Sitting up in the bed, I reached for the goodies. After setting the coffee down on the nightstand, I unwrapped the napkin. “Oh, a homemade biscuit. I haven’t had one of these in years.”
My heartbeat thrummed wildly at the genuine smile that stretched across his face. I so rarely got to see this type of smile—one that didn’t hide sarcasm or a teasing remark. “She thought you might like it.”
“I hope she didn’t go to all this trouble just for me.”
“Nah. She makes a big breakfast for us every morning.”
“Where’s Willow?” I asked after taking a sip of scorching-hot coffee.
“Back at the house. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to let her know you were here.”
I nodded as I chewed carefully on the biscuit, not wanting to overload my alcohol-soaked stomach. “She’d ask too many questions.”
“Yeah.” He cocked his brows at me. “Kinda like her teacher.”
A nervous laugh bubbled from my lips. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Neither one of us appeared to be able to mention what had happened last night. Deacon cleared his throat. “Just so you know, your car is outside.”
“It is?”
Deacon nodded. “New alternator was all it needed.”
“Are you sure I don’t owe you anything?”
“Nope. It’s all taken care of.”
“Thank you.”
“Keys are in the ignition. I know you gotta get going to get to work on time.”
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I saw it was six thirty. “Shit. I do.” Just when I thought of flinging the covers back and hopping out of bed, I realized I was half naked.
As if he sensed my panic, Deacon started for the door. “Yeah, so, I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Yes. And thanks again for my car.”
“You’re welcome.” He opened the door and then closed it again. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he said, “I trust that what was said in here last night will stay just between the two of us?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” he murmured. Then he slipped out the door without a good-bye.
There wasn’t a chance I would ever share with anyone what Deacon had told me last night. We had both been extremely vulnerable in revealing the wounds of our past. Considering the shame and immense sadness I still carried with me about my own dark period in my life, I could never betray his trust, just as I wouldn’t want him to betray mine.
In the end, it was a relief for me to unburden myself. For reasons I didn’t understand, it made me no longer feel so alone.
That Sunday found me miles away from Deacon’s world. A smile played at my lips when I thought of what Deacon would say about my surroundings. He would classify me sitting in the driveway of the two-story, cookie-cutter Colonial house on an upscale street as being in my white-bread world. He was probably right, considering it was worlds away from the Raiders compound.
Riding shotgun up front with me was my black Lab, Atticus. His wet nose nudged against my arm to hurry me along out of the car. He appreciated Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Joy’s house as much as I did. Part of the reason was he was from a litter that came from Mahalia, Uncle Jimmy’s prized bird dog. I guess it was like coming back home for him, just like it was for me.
Atticus bounded out before I’d opened the door more than a crack, not even bothering to wait for me. He was on the porch, woofing excitedly, by the time I got both myself and the food I’d brought out of the car. As I made my way up the familiar porch steps, the front door opened, revealing the smiling face of my uncle Jimmy. “Well, hello, stranger! I’m glad you remembered where we lived,” he ribbed good-naturedly.
I grinned. “I’m sorry. Things have really been busy lately since I’m doing homebound services.”
Uncle Jimmy nodded before drawing me into his arms. I couldn’t help but thank God for him. My dad’s siblings lived out of state, and my brother, Charlie, and I had never been close to them. With both sets of our grandparents gone, we could have been sent to one of them if it hadn’t been for Uncle Jimmy.
When I pulled away to smile up at him, I could see so much of my mother in his face. They had the same dark, wavy hair, although Uncle Jimmy’s had far more gray than my mom’s had had. Their blue eyes always seemed to have a warm twinkle in them that immediately set you at ease and made you feel loved. My mom had been tall like him, but where my mother was lean, Uncle Jimmy had his “law-enforcement-induced doughnut gut,” as he liked to joke.
“Come on. Let’s get inside,” he said, holding open the door.
“Is Lydia here?” I asked.
“No. She’s on some dig in New Mexico.”
Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Joy’s only child, Lydia, was an anthropologist. Fifteen years ago, at eighteen, she had left home, and Georgia, and had barely looked back. Now that she had two sons of her own, whom Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Joy adored, she tried to make it back to Georgia at least once a month.
After I headed into the foyer, Uncle Jimmy took the bags of food out of my hands. As I started to the kitchen, a voice from the living room called out to me. “Yo, Al. Come get this wild animal off me!” Charlie yelled. I grinned, knowing that was his way of getting me to come see him. All these years later, he still wasn’t good at expressing his emotions.
I entered the living room to find Atticus sprawled out on the couch beside Charlie. Instead of being truly aggrava
ted by Atticus, Charlie was giving him a rubdown, which caused Atticus to groan in ecstasy. “Hey, little brother. It’s good to see you,” I said as I flopped down on his other side.
He grinned, which caused two dimples to pop out on his cheeks. It made him adorable to me, but I’m sure they caused girls his age to swoon. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“How’s school?”
Cocking his head at me, Charlie replied, “You mean am I studying and going to class or partying too much?”
I nudged him playfully. “I wouldn’t be your overbearing big sister if I didn’t ask.”
“True. Very true.” When he still remained evasive, I cleared my throat to prompt him. He held up his hands. “Fine. I’ve got solid Bs at the moment.”
“Oh, Charlie, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud,” I replied before throwing my arms around his neck.
“It could all get shot to hell before the end of the semester,” he teased.
“Not on your life, mister.” I pulled back to give him the same stern look I gave my students. “Don’t make me come to Athens and follow you around.”
He snorted. “Look, I know you don’t have a life, but even I can’t imagine you doing that.”
“I do have a life,” I countered.
“Your group of girlfriends who does monthly margarita nights counts as a life?”
“We go out more than that,” I lied.
“Right.”
“Besides, I’m very busy right now with teaching. I’m even doing homebound services.”
“Yeah, Uncle Jimmy told me.”
My brows rose up in surprise. “He did?”
Charlie nodded. “Said he was worried about you.”
I swallowed hard. “Why?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“’Cause of where you’re teaching.” With a wry smile, Charlie added, “Who would have thought my good-girl big sister would be hanging out with a bunch of dirty and dangerous bikers?”
Rolling my eyes, I replied, “They’re not like that.”
“You sure about that? From what Uncle Jimmy said, the Raiders have been known to have their hands in all kinds of dirty dealings, like gambling and gun running.”