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

  Holy shit, his voice was rough from being unused and it made things she didn’t want to identify skitter through every part of her body.

  “I guess I should’ve been more specific.” She shoved the mug into his chest and he grabbed it. “You can finish that. I don’t take my coffee with someone else’s backwash.”

  “If you’re makin’ more, like mine brewed strong.”

  Just then, the microwave beeped, and she ignored his coffee order to pull out her breakfast. She grabbed a spoon and stirred her hot cereal but planned to let it cool for a few seconds.

  “Your coffee order is noted, but I don’t take special requests. The coffee and filters are in the cabinet right above the coffeemaker. And so are the mugs. Feel free to use them.”

  Instead of heading in that direction like she expected, he reached around her, his bare skin brushing against hers, lifted the spoon from her steaming cereal and shoved it in his mouth. She wasn’t sure if the face he made was because he burned his damn tongue or because of what it was.

  He went over to the trashcan at the end of the island, lifted the lid and spat it out. “What’s that shit?”

  She smiled as she grabbed a clean spoon from the drawer, added a little raw honey to the cereal and gave it another good stir. “Ten-grain cereal.”

  “Feed that shit to the deer.”

  “I like it and it’s healthy.” She glanced down at his hard-on, which seemed to still be at full attention. Unless he was a show-er and not a grower. But if what she could see was everything he had to offer, it still wasn’t bad.

  “How long does that normally last?” She took another bite of cereal and tilted her head toward his crotch.

  His hand automatically slid over his hard length as he moved around the kitchen. “Depends.”

  “On?”

  “Pretty sure you can figure out how to get rid of a hard-on.” He opened the fridge door and peered inside. A second later, he closed it and began to root through her cabinets.

  She had no idea what he was searching for.

  He pulled out a box of muesli cereal, made a look of disgust and muttered, “Christ. More deer food.” He shoved it back into the cabinet. “Since you got my truck, can you do a grocery run?”

  Oh sure, your highness, whatever you need. I’m at your service. “Make a list.” Maybe she should dip her head and curtsey, too.

  He grabbed the magnetic pad of paper and pen she kept stuck to the side of the fridge and began to scribble some things down. Admittedly, it was kind of cute because as he wrote, his eyebrows were knitted together, and his mouth was slightly parted. All he needed to do yet was stick out the tip of his tongue as he concentrated.

  When he was done, he ripped the top sheet off and came over to hand it to her. At least it gave her something safe to look at besides his nipples or his waning erection. She skimmed it.

  Eggs

  Bacon

  Donuts (cream-filled, Boston – OK)

  Rocky Road ice cream

  Beer (no shitty lite)

  Cola (no diet)

  JD (Jim Beam- OK)

  Captain Crunch (not store brand)

  Real milk (no fake shit)

  Sour cream and onion chips (waffle cut)

  When she was done scanning the list, she went over to the stainless-steel trashcan, pushed her foot on the pedal to raise the lid, crumpled it in a ball and dropped it in from shoulder height. The whole time his brown eyes followed her every move.

  His eyebrows lifted as she jerked her foot off the pedal and let the lid slam, then brushed her hands together as if wiping off some dirt.

  “That wasn’t nice,” he grumbled.

  “Neither is drinking from my mug or eating from my spoon. Or walking around my kitchen scratching your testicles and sporting an erection.”

  “Will make sure to get rid of it before I join you for breakfast tomorrow.”

  She closed her eyes and bit back a groan. Now she pictured him lying in one of the spare beds upstairs, working on getting rid of his morning hard-on by himself.

  “If you didn’t notice...” Her words came out a little too breathless when she forced herself to return to the subject at hand. Oh God, she couldn’t get that image of him touching himself out of her mind. She cleared her throat and continued. “There are brown eggs in the fridge. There’s turkey bacon in the freezer, along with three pints of Ben & Jerry’s. I’m pretty sure there’s whiskey in my liquor cabinet if you look, but I prefer you keep your faculties about you while you’re here since we don’t know when Billy will show up. You’re welcome to eat and drink what’s already in the house since right now, I don’t have time to go grocery shopping and, anyway, I’m hoping you won’t be staying very long.”

  One side of his mouth pulled up. “Got it. Make myself at home, but don’t get too comfy. My presence is only welcome ‘cause it benefits you.” Justice barreled through the partially open door, tail held high and wagging. He closed the door behind his dog.

  “Well, of course. Why else would you be here?”

  He moved closer to her and murmured, “I wouldn’t. Unless you invited me for another reason.” He let that hang for a moment, then his half-grin disintegrated. “We’re helpin’ each other out, Reese. You seem to forget that.”

  She hadn’t.

  She sighed. “I’ll grab some things at the store if I get a chance, but I’ve got a full day ahead of me.”

  He gave her a smile. “Appreciate it.”

  That smile... Holy shit, it was too damn tempting. She needed to get the hell out of her house and to her office before she did something stupid.

  We all do stupid shit, Reese. He’s an expert at suckin’ women in.

  Billy Warren wasn’t the only one who was an expert. The man in front of her might not steal a woman’s money, but he probably stole other things. Like her sanity. Or her will to keep him at arm’s length. Or her heart.

  Reese mentally groaned.

  “You okay?”

  No. No, she was not okay with a practically naked Deacon Edwards in her kitchen and who planned on masturbating in one of her bedrooms.

  She grabbed her bowl of now cold cereal, scraped it into the trash and as she turned to put it in the sink, she froze.

  Again.

  And took a better look at him digging through her freezer.

  She automatically stepped forward and frowned as she slowly studied the ink on his broad back. It took a few seconds to put together what she originally thought were smaller tattoos were really one large one.

  The “banner” at the top of his back said BLOOD FURY, the bottom banner, PENNSYLVANIA. There was a little box to one side that had the letters MC in it. It was all done, like the rest of his tattoos, in black and grey. Except for the center drawing, where the only color was red blood coming from the skull and crossbones.

  “What is that?” she whispered, hoping she was wrong.

  He turned with a frozen, grass-fed New York strip steak in his hand, instead of the suggested turkey bacon, and rubbed his unencumbered hand over his bare chest. “What?” He peered over his shoulder. “My great ass?”

  She circled her hand in the air. “That tattoo... What does it mean?”

  “Which one?”

  “You know exactly which one I’m talking about.”

  “If you didn’t notice, got a few. Need to be specific.” He placed the butcher-paper wrapped steak on the counter and turned back to the fridge, grabbing the carton of free-range, local brown eggs. “You got tater tots hidin’ in that freezer somewhere?” He put the eggs down next to the stove.

  She wanted to talk about tattoos, not tater tots. More specifically the meaning of those tattoos that made up one large one. A tattoo that wasn’t faded in any way, which meant it was inked into his skin not too long ago. So, it wasn’t from a “past life.” Oh no, that life, the reason he’d get a large tattoo like that, was current.

  A burn began in her chest and worked its way up her throat. “Is my sister wit
h a bunch of bikers?” Her stomach twisted and she dropped her bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter. “Please tell me she’s not staying with a bunch of bikers.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. He reminded her of an obstinate child.

  So, she treated him like one. “Answer me.”

  “If I fuckin’ answer you, you ain’t gonna like my answer.”

  She pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned. “You took my sister, who has a habit of making bad decisions, to stay with a bunch of bikers. I need you to tell me I’m wrong and she’s staying with your family instead. Your cousin, even.”

  “My cousin is one of those bikers.”

  “Fuck!” exploded from her, making Justice whine and nudge her hand. She strode to the other side of the kitchen, then spun on the dog’s owner. “You said she’d be safe.”

  “Nowhere safer.”

  She doubted that. She might be safe from Billy there, but...

  Reilly didn’t have the self-control that Reese did when it came to men like him.

  And now she was surrounded by men who acted like Deacon, rode motorcycles like Deacon, had tattoos like Deacon, and if they looked anything like...

  “Deacon,” she groaned.

  “Reese, she’ll be okay. Promise.”

  She hated the fact she had to rely on his word. “I only ever wanted what was best for her.”

  “Yeah, and hookin’ up with a biker would be the fuckin’ worst.”

  Her hands clenched into fists and she pinned them to her thighs. “She doesn’t need to be hooking up with anyone right now. That’s my point. She needs to recover from the mistake she already made recently and get her life back on track.” She ground the heels of her palms into her eyes, not worried if she smeared her mascara, she was more worried about having a meltdown right in the middle of her kitchen.

  Right now she felt helpless, that the control she normally held onto was just out of her reach, and she hated every second of it.

  Fingers wrapped around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. She took a deep breath to slow her spinning world and stared into his brown eyes. Concern. Confusion. That was what she saw in them.

  His fingers remained circling her wrists when he said, “Look, I’ll get the word out no one’s to fuck with her. That she’s untouchable.”

  “You probably think I’m overreacting. And maybe I am. But... She’s the only person I have left. She’s it. She’s everything. I’ve helped her her whole life, since the day she was born, and now... Now I feel like I’ve failed.” She didn’t even like admitting that out loud.

  “You didn’t fuckin’ fail. Failin’ woulda been not doin’ shit and hopin’ that fucker didn’t show up. You’re doin’ the only thing you can do right now. Helpin’ me set a trap for that asshole.”

  His words should make her feel better, but they didn’t. The only thing that would, was to get Billy Warren out of their life for good. Put him in the past and move forward. Then get her sister set up again so she could continue building on the foundation Reese provided for her.

  Then Reese would have to, once again, let her go. But this time, she only hoped whoever Reilly hooked up with in the future wouldn’t knock her back down again. Physically, mentally or financially.

  But Reilly might not have a future if Billy got to her. That bastard needed to be dealt with first.

  She stared at the man whose goal was to do just that.

  She needed to let him do what needed to be done. She needed to let him take control of the situation.

  She also needed to fight the temptation of the almost naked man in her kitchen.

  “I have to get to the office.” She grabbed her leather tote, which was sitting by the side door, and paused. “And don’t you dare ruin that steak by defrosting it in the microwave. Seal it in a Ziploc bag and put it in a bowl of water.”

  She rarely ate red meat, but when she did, she paid a premium for a good cut from a local farm. The cost of that steak—one he would probably slather in ketchup and cook until the center was gray instead of a perfect red—was nothing compared to what Reilly’s life and happiness was worth.

  So, if he wanted to eat that steak, he could eat that damn steak. It was a small price to pay.

  Before walking out the door, she let herself take one last glance at the man who was searching the drawers and cabinets to do what Reese suggested.

  Now, what would letting a man she wanted, but shouldn’t, into her home cost her?

  She was afraid to find out.

  Deacon had set up a spot at the built-in bar in her lower level as his temporary office space. He had his laptop, a comfy chair and his cell phone. It would keep him from getting too bored, plus it would keep Judge off his ass. Especially since he didn’t know how long he’d be holed up in this house.

  Reese was right. She had plenty of booze behind the home bar, most of it unopened. She also had a small wine cooler which was half full. No beer, though.

  But he wasn’t downstairs to drink, he was there to get the plan rolling and hope it worked to draw out Warren.

  Judge had sent him Reilly’s username and password for her Instagram account. Along with a photo of the two sisters standing on the deck of Reese’s house with their arms around each other’s shoulders and huge smiles on their faces.

  They looked a lot alike. And Deke had stared at that photo for way too long. Reese looked happy and stress-free in that picture.

  Judge said it wasn’t recent but since it was taken at a distance, it was hard to judge how old either of them were in the photo. Even so, it would work. It would be the perfect bait for Warren.

  Especially when he posted, “Staying with my sis at her awesome house! Those who know me know why. Watch out, women! Don’t fall for con artists and violent criminals like my ex,” to go with the picture.

  Being blatantly called out would infuriate Warren. And if, on the slim chance, he hadn’t been looking for Reilly before, he probably would be now.

  He scrolled through his phone to find the contact he needed and pushed Send.

  Judge answered on the second ring. “Justice Bail Bonds.”

  “Trap’s set.”

  “Want me to send someone else up there to sit on the house with you?”

  “No.” He didn’t want anyone else crashing in Reese’s house. She didn’t even like him being there. It would create more problems than they were worth.

  “Gonna tell you again, she shouldn’t be there at the house.”

  “No shit. She’s stubborn.”

  Deacon heard a snort through the phone. “Her sister’s just like her. Fuckin’ stubborn as all fuck. Can tell why Warren did a number on her.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “She’s bored. She’s twenty-somethin’ and doesn’t know how to just chill. Wants to keep busy. Can’t bring her here to the office. Ain’t smart to send her to Crazy Pete’s with Stella. Ozzy don’t want her at the motel ‘cause that means he’d have to watch her ass. And Ozzy’s Ozzy. Everybody’s got shit to do and no one wants to be a babysitter to a woman we said was off-limits. ‘Specially a hot blonde.”

  “Don’t give a fuck what she wants, she needs to stay safe and out of sight ‘til this is over.”

  “No shit, asshole. And her bein’ on club property right now means I’m the fuckin’ one responsible to keep her ass safe. Problem is, everybody’s got a job to do and we got no one to spare. ‘Specially since we’re not sure how long this is gonna take.”

  “We’ll keep postin’ online ‘til he bites.”

  “What if he don’t bite? What if he went underground and couldn’t give a flyin’ fuck about Reilly Porter? We need a time limit on this job. Once his bond expires and he ain’t caught, then what?”

  “Then it’s over. We’re out. We’ll wash our hands of it and let the women deal with their own fuckin’ mess.”

  Another snort came through the phone and Deacon could picture his cousin shaking his head
. “Right.”

  Right. “Bianchi said the court date’s not ‘til the end of the month. We got ‘til then.”

  “You ain’t stayin’ there ‘til the end of the month, cuz. We got other shit to do.”

  “Will do what I can from here.”

  “While that’s somethin’, it ain’t everythin’, Deke,” Judge grumbled. “Hard to leave the office to do shit when you’re gone.” He grunted. “Got an idea. Gonna run it by Dutch and some of the guys and let you know if it works out.”

  “Dutch?”

  “Yeah. Thinkin’ my idea might make everyone happy and ease the pain of not havin’ enough brothers to watch the girl.” The phone went dead.

  No bye, no see ya. Nothing.

  Judge just hung up. Deacon grinned.

  His cousin was an asshole. But he was a big, lovable asshole.

  Chapter Eight

  “Gotta tell you somethin’.”

  Reese sighed before taking another sip of her large glass of white wine.

  She had come home late and found him planted, once again, on the deck in the dark, with his laptop and phone nearby. Also with his four-legged best friend by his side, curled up and taking a snooze, since Justice had a rough day of eating, sleeping and licking his junk.

  Deacon kept checking Reilly’s Instagram account about every half hour, just in case Warren left a comment on the picture he posted this morning. So far, nothing.

  He didn’t believe Warren was stupid enough to out himself on social media, but fugitives have done some pretty fucking stupid shit before. Which sometimes made his job a little easier.

  If Warren didn’t show up in the next couple of days, Deacon would make another post on Reilly’s account. Until then, he just had to have patience.

  So did Reese.

  But he also didn’t want to lie to her about her sister if he could avoid it. And while he wouldn’t give her Reilly’s exact location, he also wanted to keep Reese somewhat in the loop.

  It might help her feel a little more in control of the situation. Which might ease her stress a little.

  Might.

  The way she was sucking down the wine, he wasn’t so sure.