Page 96 of Deacon

The sigh that comes out of Jensen is from deep down. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. It’s probably to your benefit that I stay friendly with the Hatfields.”

“It’d be helpful to have somebody who knows their comings and goings.”

“Fine, I’ll keep a general eye out.” He shrugs. “Consider it a favor I can use later. I’ll pull a Jack Russell on you but in reverse.”

“One Jack Russell is one too many.”

Jensen laughs then sobers quickly. Truthfully, we both know we’ll just keep trading favors back and forth without keeping count. The last person who posed a real threat to my land is dead at the bottom of a ravine. I owe Jensen a bit for helping with that one, and the boys up at Sovereign Mountain. None of us keep count too good.

My phone rings. This is the second time it’s gone off in the last five minutes. I’ve been ignoring the vibration against my leg, but this time, I take it out of my pocket.

“Alright, here’s my ass beating now,” I say, turning to head down the hall.

“Jay?” Jensen follows me to the door and holds it open.

I step out. “Yeah, honestly, I thought he’d be on my case before now. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” Jensen shuts the screen door and lifts a hand as I head down the steps to my truck.

I wait until I’m back in Knifley before checking my phone again. There’s a text from Jay saying he’s heading my way, that he wants to meet in his secondary office. I park the truck at the curb and decide to walk, hoping I can walk by the café and see Freya, although I’m not sure she wants to see me.

She did leave while I was sleeping.

I mull that over, like I have been for a few days. Freya’s a hard woman to understand. One day, she’s smiling, eyes bright. The next, she’s all closed up with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. One second, she’s shy, and the next she’s naked and riding my dick like there’s no tomorrow.

I shake my head. I can’t get hard walking down the curb.

The door to Jay’s office is shut. It’s a storefront with a wooden door, like something out of a western. I check the knob, and it’s locked. But the minute I let go, it swivels and opens, revealing Jay.

“You son of a bitch,” he says, striding back down the hall.

I shut the door and follow him to his office in the back. It’s one of those low rooms with fake wooden walls and carpets that remind me of the ones in the methodist church. He circles the desk and sinks down, staring up at me with a crackle in his eyes.

“You look like shit,” he says.

I laugh. Jay is usually the picture of a gentleman lawyer, in his nice suits tucked over his cowboy boots. But today, his suit and tie are traded for jeans and a flannel, and he’s not hiding his annoyance.

“Yeah, I got hit in the face and stabbed in the leg,” I say. “But I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Fuck yourself,” he says.

I sink down in the seat across from him, stretching my legs out and leaning back. “Look, I pay for that nice house and truck. Just patch this up the way you always do, what you’re draining my bank account for.”

His eyes narrow. “I can’t bail you out of everything. You assaulted two men and defaced their property.”

“Defaced? I didn’t deface anything.”

“You slashed their tires, Deacon,” he snaps. “You beat the shit out of two people. Not just any people, but the one’s getting ready to drag your ass to court if you won’t lie down and take that easement.”

“What? They can’t change a tire so they have to cry about it?”

Jay’s eyes flash, the vein in his forehead standing out as he tries to gather himself. There’s a pen on his desk. I pick it up, clicking it absently, waiting.

Click.

Click.

Click.

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