Page 70 of Deacon

I have a couple of them, but I have no desire to be so involved as to see Deacon give Aiden or Ryland a beat down.

I just want out of this mess. I need everybody to go back to ignoring me. Getting noticed all the time is stressing me too much. The problem is, Deacon won’t go away. And I don’t want him to.

“You’d better go,” I say quietly.

He sighs. “Give me a kiss before I do.”

Obediently, I offer my mouth, and he kisses it. It’s just as nice as it was the first time—the right amount of pressure, a little heat, a hint of tongue. But my stomach is all twisted up in knots, and I can’t enjoy it.

He puts on his hat and goes. I stand in the door, arms crossed tightly, and watch him swing into his truck.

Part of me is so wrapped up in him that I don’t want to think too hard about this. The other part wonders if I’m just another turn in a cycle I never wanted to be part of.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

DEACON

I go into South Platte to see my lawyer before I show up at the mediation. Jay Reed’s office is dark and cool, located in the lower level of a house turned into an office in South Platte. It smells like the coffee he’s got in his Styrofoam cup, on his desk by his boots. When I walk through the door, a bell chimes, and he looks up.

“Speak of the devil,” he says.

“Who was?” I say, taking my hat off and sinking into the chair opposite his desk.

“Me,” he says. “You’re the devil, and I’m speaking of you.”

“Alright. Coffee, and let’s hit the road.”

He stands, going to the coffeemaker in the corner. “We’re having this meeting in city hall. I proposed that location because I can’t have you throwing punches.”

I look down at my knuckles. They’ve got too many telltale scars to pretend I don’t like a good bar fight. I rise, and he hands me a foam cup and gets his briefcase. We step outside, and I stand under the overhang while he locks up.

“Let’s go,” Jay says, putting his hat on. “Before the rain hits.”

The sky roils. City hall is just across the street, so it doesn’t take long to duck into the front room. The floors are plain brown, glazed,and the walls are rustic wood. There’s a bull’s head over the front desk and a police officer playing on his phone behind it.

“We’re here for a meeting with Aiden Hatfield,” Jay says.

I throw my cup away, my mind going back to what I just did to Freya. I should be ashamed of myself for feeling so smug about it.

But I’m not sorry. Not even a little.

The door opens behind me. Aiden Hatfield comes through the door, followed by his oldest son, Ryland. The quiet one is nowhere to be seen. They’re both in suits, hair brushed back, but no hats. Maybe they don’t wear hats back in Kentucky. I take mine off, cross the glossed floor, and hold out my hand.

“Nice to see you,” I say.

If he’s taken aback, he hides it. We shake hands. I wonder if part of him knows I’m putting his stepdaughter through the mattress every opportunity I get, but I doubt he does. He’d be livid. I know men like him. In his eyes, everything and everyone who depends on him is property.

“This must be your son, Ryland,” I say.

Ryland shakes my hand, and I release him quickly. His father is built like me—big, tall, but lean, with tattoos and rough edges. The son is similar but lacks his confidence. Out of all the Hatfields, Aiden is the one I need to watch closely.

He’s smart, confident. That makes him dangerous.

“Thanks for coming in,” he says, offering a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, my pleasure,” I say, turning and beckoning to Jay. He comes over, taking off his hat, and extends his hand. “This is my lawyer, Jay Reed.”

That gives Aiden some pause. Clearly, he took a look at me and made the assessment that I don’t keep my ass covered. There’s a hair less confidence in the handshake he gives Jay. Ryland doesn’t offer his hand.

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