He starts to laugh. “Your brother threatened to shoot me if he caught me with you again.”
Everything inside me freezes, and my grip relaxes. “What did you say?”
I remember Beto’s gun, his anger, his hatred of everything Dring.
The teasing grin on Deacon’s face falters, and he seems to catch himself. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Yes, you should have.” I rise up beside him, straightening my clothes.
“We were all amped up. Everyone was pissed. He was talking out of his ass.”
“You should go.” I’m off the bed, straightening my panties and going to the window. “We can meet at your apartment next time.”
“This is a switch.” He’s teasing, but I’m freaking out. “Please…”
He’s at the window, throwing a leg over the balustrade and sitting. “Come here.”
Stepping closer, I put my arms around his neck, my old friend Fear buzzing in my veins.
Dropping his chin, he kisses my lips. “I’m not afraid of your brother. I’ll see you tomorrow, and in the meantime, I’m working on this. You trust me?”
He’s so beautiful. He’s everything to me. If anything happens to him…
“Of course, I trust you.” My voice is a broken whisper, and I put my palm against his scruffy cheek.
He leans forward, kissing me longer, pulling my lips with his. I want to hold him, but I need him to go. I can’t take a chance on what he just told me.
“I’ll call you.” One last kiss, and he drops to the pavement, dashing across the back patio and off my brother’s property.
I’m breathing fast, terrified. I had no idea when he came here what my brother had threatened, how dangerous our love had become.
My brother is angry and unpredictable. Regardless of what Deacon thinks, I don’t know what Beto might do. Would he really shoot Deacon? He’s so obsessed with avenging the past…
Either way, I’m not taking a chance.
17
Deacon
The life-sized portrait of my aunt is unfinished, but I’m drawn by her eyes and the regal lift of her chin. “You look very elegant. Is that Boots?” Leaning closer, I see the old family cat is in her lap. “That’s a fun touch.”
“You think so?” Winnie grasps my upper arm, and I’ve never seen her so excited. “I took a little convincing.”
“Is that so?” I can’t imagine who my aunt would trust to disagree with her. “Who’s doing it?”
“A gifted new artist Angela Carmen, but I
don’t think that’s her real name.”
Slanting my eyes, I place my hand over hers. “Why not?”
“She doesn’t always respond when I say it.” My aunt releases my arm and does a wave. “No matter. I’ll pay her in cash.”
“That’s a lot of cash to hand someone.”
“She’ll know what to do with it. Those people prefer cash-only payments anyway. Avoids a lot of uncomfortable questions.”
“You’re assuming she’s illegal?”