Blood & Bones: Deacon (Blood Fury MC 4)
“Sounds lonely.”
Some days it was. Very. But her previous attempt at not being lonely had turned out to be a disaster. Maybe not in the same caliber as her sister’s attempt, but still...
It was one lesson she wouldn’t forget.
Neither said a word for a few moments. Instead, the last two words he said hung between them.
She didn’t deny being lonely. She didn’t argue it, either.
Which meant it was true.
She shifted in her chair like she was ready to call it a night. She wasn’t comfortable with that truth when it was put out there like it was.
But Deacon wasn’t ready for her to walk inside and shut him out. She had given him a little glimpse of who she was and where she came from, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear more.
She probably wouldn’t give him anything personal if he outright asked. That would take some work and a bit of finesse on his part, but he was pretty damn sure when it came to her business, she’d be more likely to talk.
He had heard the pride in her voice when she mentioned working hard and creating the life she currently had. “Put yourself through school to become a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“You a defense attorney?”
She hesitated, most likely because she was trying to figure out where he was headed with his questions. She’d be the type to want to be a few steps ahead. She didn’t like situations where she wasn’t in control. “Why? Do you need one? I’m not cheap.”
What attorney was?
He chuckled. “Not yet. You do criminal defense, then.” It would be nice to have a lawyer hookup in case he or one of his brothers got in a jam. Deacon bet Reese was on fire when she worked the courtroom. She would not let a prosecutor get the best of her.
Hell no.
She would take total command of that room and all eyes would be on her.
That thought made his dick twitch. He visualized her pacing back and forth in front of a judge and jury, machine gunning questions at a witness on the stand, making that person sweat bullets.
Suddenly his little fantasy changed into Reese wearing a sexy black leather outfit, spiked heels and carrying a long bullwhip, her cracking it at her opponent in the legal arena.
Fuck yeah. That dick twitch quickly turned into a half chub.
Some women dreamed of taming a bad boy. But some men dreamed of taming a powerful woman. Like Reese.
“No, I specialize in civil litigation.”
His head jerked back. And he regretfully let that little fantasy go. For now. He might continue it later in his room. “What the fuck is that?”
“Let’s just say, I get paid to argue. And get my clients what they deserve.”
He snorted. “You get paid to argue. Now there’s a fuckin’ surprise.”
Was she smiling? If so, she was fighting it.
Life was too goddamn short to be so uptight and serious all the time.
“Basically, I handle civil lawsuits. I can be retained by either side. A lot of my clients are businesses, like a car dealership. But my strength is getting a suit settled before it even goes to trial. It saves my client money in the end, which they appreciate. Happy clients give me referrals.”
“You’re good at negotiatin’.”
“Yes.”
She probably negotiated her own divorce. “Your sister said your ex fucked you over.”
He was sure Reese wasn’t happy Reilly gave him that much. Even in the dark, he could see her frown and tense up. “He tried.”
“You got to keep this house.” It might not be in the suburbs of Philly where houses cost a fuckton of scratch, but it wasn’t a shack. The gate, the long, paved driveway, the house itself didn’t read middle class. It read “financially comfortable.”
Whether that was true or not, whether that was only a false front, he couldn’t be sure. But the little bit he knew about the woman sitting on the deck with him, he could tell she wasn’t a poser. She wasn’t living above her means. She appreciated everything she owned and didn’t take it for granted.
This house was something she wanted, and she did what she had to do to get it.
Deacon liked that.
Determination and drive.
This woman had it oozing out of her pores. He didn’t need to know her deepest, darkest secrets to figure that out. She wore that shit on her sleeve.
“Of course, I did. It’s my damn house.” She twisted on the chair and put her bare feet down on the deck. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
She was ready to bolt.
He leaned over and grabbed her arm, keeping her in her seat. “Hold up.” She jerked her arm, but he tightened his hold.
“I’m not talking about my divorce,” she snapped, using her free hand to rub at her temple.
“Got it. Sore subject.”
“You’re here for one reason. To catch Billy. That’s it. Not to become my bestie. Not to share giggles and gossip.”