changed.
Deacon turned to his men, looking to his second-in-command and shouting, “GET OUT! All of you fuckers. Get the fuck out of here.”
Roy, the older man second only to Deacon, led the charge. “Come on, you heard the bossman,” he said, “Let's leave the two of them alone.”
Roy was a good guy. He was somebody I admired a hell of a lot. I often wondered how he got caught up in this nonsense. But then again, I could say the same for Deacon.
Deacon glared at me in silence until the last of his men were out the door. We listened as their bikes roared to life and the sound of the engines disappeared off in the distance. It left Deacon, myself and Danny Wyman – who was still passed out at the bar.
Deacon walked over to the drunk man, yanking him up by the collar. Danny's eyes opened and once he caught sight of who was holding him up, his expression grew almost comically terrified and he just about shit himself.
“Get out,” Deacon said, his voice low and angry.
Danny stumbled to his feet, grabbing his wallet from the bar, and rushed toward the door, catching himself on the door frame. Turning toward us, he looked at me with pleading eyes, “Could you at least call a cab for me, doll?”
“Don't call her doll,” Deacon said, lumbering toward him. “And you can walk, Danny. You live what? A mile from here? A little fresh air will do you a world of good. Now go.”
“But it's cold – ”
“Did I stutter, man? Because I didn't think I did. Get the fuck out of here or I'll throw you out.”
Danny looked at me and I shrugged. Not much I could do. Besides, Deacon was right. He didn't live that far and his wife would probably be thankful that he walked the alcohol off a little before coming to bed.
Danny stumbled outside and Deacon grabbed the door, closing it behind him with a slam. I heard the locks sliding into place, and he turned the neon, glowing “Open” sign off.
It was just him and me.
Chapter Three
“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” Deacon said, stalking toward me like I was an antelope and he was the predator. An apt comparison, all things considered. “Is there anything else you'd like to tell me now that we're alone? Any other secrets you're carrying around with you?”
I stood with my back against the wall, breathing harder than before. A sharp and sudden pain hit me in the neck, causing me to reach back and rub at the spot with my hand. It hurt like hell and forced me to cry out a bit.
“Tone it down, Deacon,” I said, after catching my breath. “You're hurting me.”
He did as I asked him to, however, he managed to do it. I still didn't understand all that he was capable of. But my neck stopped hurting and the pain was replaced by more of a warm, almost burning sensation instead. More bearable, but still uncomfortable.
“I'd never hurt you, Lucy. Please know that,” he said, coming toward me and lifting my face up to meet his gaze. “Never in a million years, baby.”
“Yet you have,” I spat. “Over and over again.”
He cringed as I said those words. It was the truth, though. He'd never laid a hand on me, not in a way that I didn't beg him for at least. But the wounds he did cause me were deeper than the flesh. Much deeper.
“You knew how I felt for you, Deacon. And that last time we were together? The last time, you promised you would stay,” I said. “And being the naive girl I always am, I fell for it. But not anymore, Deacon. No, not anymore.”
Deacon's nails dug into my flesh, drawing a pained gasp from me. He knew I liked it rough, it had always been part of our game. But this time, I wasn't playing. And neither was he.
“Now that you're carrying my child, things are a little different. Maybe it's high time I made you my Queen, Lucy.”
I pulled away from his hands. “No thank you,” I said, shaking my head. “At one time, I would have killed for that honor. But now? Knowing what you are? Knowing what you're capable of? I just can't be with you like that,