Page 22 of Deceive Me
He needed a plan, and he needed one fast.
9
Deacon was elbow-deep in suds and dishes when Fionn came into the kitchen that night. “Time for you to tuck the wee one in.”
He glanced up at the clock, then made a hasty grab for a towel.
“There’s no fire; stop making a mess. Sydney’s enjoying a story with her new friend. A few minutes won’t be mattering.”
Now it was Deacon’s turn to grunt. He let his friend take his place as he dried his hands. Fionn called his name, stopping him at the door. “Yeah?”
“Say good night to Elliot for me. And don’ be doing anything I wouldn’t do, right?”
Considering there was very little Fionn wouldn’t do, that was unlikely. “Enjoy your cold evening patrol, dickhead.”
Fionn shot him a bird as he left the room.
Even knowing Fionn and Dain and probably Saint, who had inside patrol duty tonight, would check the house, Deacon followed his normal routine, starting at the back to check windows and doors. Only the front door would be used during overnight patrols, and the fingerprint pad on the lock assured them there would be no unauthorized entries. He passed the library, nodding to Dain, who was talking on the phone—for a good-night call of his own, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by—and made his way to the front stairs.
The guest-room door was closed, the faint sound of snoring filtering through. King had midnight-to-five shift with Dain, which meant he was the source of the snoring. Around the corner, the soft glow of the bedside lamp in Sydney’s room illuminated the space between her open door and Elliot’s. Deacon deliberately avoided glancing into the darkness of Elliot’s room as he walked down the hall. Even empty, it stirred far too many temptations.
The object of those temptations sat in a chair close to Sydney’s bed, The Cat in the Hat in her hands. He’d paused in the door to listen to the soft cadence of her voice reading the lilting words when Sydney spotted him. “Hey, Daddy.”
Elliot whipped around, the thin book flying from her grip to hit the floor with a thump. He hid a knowing smile. No man wanted to make a complete fool of himself; every time she reacted to him in a way that didn’t include punching and kicking, pleasure lit inside him. Of course at the thought of a possible sparring match with the petite firecracker, things he’d like very much to remain quiet while in his daughter’s presence started kicking up a fuss as well. He shut that line of thought down quick.
“Hey, sweetie. Good book?”
Elliot had retrieved the inadvertent missile and closed it. She stood before Syd could respond. “I’ll leave you two to say good night.”
“You’ll be right across the hall, right?” Sydney asked.
“Right across the hall, just like last night. I’ve even got that monitor, the one I showed you, remember? I can see and hear everything. Don’t you worry.” She moved the chair back against the wall, then sent Sydney a mischievous glance he immediately coveted for his own. “You know, I swear I heard snoring last night.”
His daughter’s eyes went wide. “You did?”
“I did.”
Deacon noticed how the lines around her mouth tightened as she tried to suppress a grin.
Sydney glanced between the two adults. “I don’t… Do I snore, Daddy?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. Her obvious relief made him smile.
“Well, that’s good,” Elliot said. “It must’ve been King. He sounds like a chainsaw when he sleeps. I bet the monitor picked up all that noise.” She even winked at Sydney before cautiously approaching the doorway he was currently blocking.
He told himself team members slept in the same room all the time. Hell, even he knew King snored—he’d walked past the man’s door a few moments ago. But the jealousy rising in his gut wouldn’t accept a reasonable explanation. He wanted to question how close she was with King, Saint. He wanted to tell her she didn’t have to leave on his account. He wanted her in the room, in his presence for just a moment longer—but he didn’t do any of those things. Instead he moved farther into the room, making sure his arm brushed hers as he passed. “Thanks for reading to her, Elliot.”
He savored her name on his tongue.
“No problem.” She looked like she wanted to elaborate, but she didn’t, simply walked out the door without a backward glance. He knew because he watched for it. So did Sydney.
His daughter and he were both infatuated, it seemed.
Approaching the bed, he eyed the mound of pillows and stuffed animals Sydney had buried herself in. Elliot knew they needed to be removed—they’d gone over the rules the first night—but he’d noticed the woman never forced the issue. And obviously Sydney wouldn’t do it without being told.
“Did you forget something?” he asked his daughter.
Sydney pouted but began throwing the clutter to the floor on the far side of her bed. Normally Deacon let her get away with that if she picked it up in the morning. Now, aware of the need to keep the area clear just in case something happened, he gathered the discarded toys and pillows and stacked them near the toy box. By the time he finished, Sydney eyelids were drifting open and closed in long sweeps.
