Page 12 of Deceive Me
“Elliot?” Fionn had moved on to appraising the front of her now. “What kind of name is Elliot for a pretty little thing like you? Ellie, maybe…now that’s a name for a woman.” The smile that had gotten Fionn laid more times than Deacon could count crossed his face. A charming smile.
Elliot didn’t seem to be reacting the way most females did.
Deacon wondered how long it would be before Elliot put Fionn on his ass. Maybe slightly longer than it had taken her to put him on his ass, but not by much if her expression was anything to go by.
The men of Team Foxtrot were making a hell of an impression today, weren’t they?
Elliot surprised him by taking a totally different tack with his uncouth friend. “Fin?” She tilted her head slightly. “Like on a fish? And you think my name is weird?”
“Irish, you know.” The lilting flavor of his friend’s language deliberately deepened, emphasizing his nationality. “That be Fionn with an O.”
Deacon had seen this conversation played out more than once during their friendship. When Fionn’s mouth formed the O, something about it made women want to mimic the shape of his mouth with theirs. Some kind of sexual spell, according to Fionn. Personally Deacon had seen Sydney do the same thing when he was trying to teach her to eat solid food, not that he’d shared that vital bit of intel with Fionn.
Now he watched with interest as Elliot’s lips softened, parted just barely, then pressed firmly together. When disappointment flashed across Fionn’s face, her mouth twitched like she was forcing back a smile—of amusement or triumph, he wasn’t sure. He was sure Elliot would take it as a personal victory to deprive his friend of the reaction he wanted. Would she be equally amused to know Deacon wanted to punch Fionn in the face for flirting with her when Deacon had seen her first?
And on that note…
He cleared the growl out of his throat. “Elliot, your team is setting up in the library.” He nodded toward the right hallway beside the stairs. “Would you like to join them or spend some time with Sydney before we tour the house?”
“The layout of the house is likely more impor—”
“Elliot!”
His daughter appeared at the head of the stairs, her tiny body practically quivering with delight at the sight of her new friend. Just like she had a thousand times before, Sydney grasped the banister at the top of the stairs, threw a short leg over with the aid of a little hop, and whizzed down the slick wood. Deacon was chuckling when Elliot’s slight weight knocked him out of her way.
5
Elliot fought the scream that rose in her throat. Years of training had ingrained the need to remain silent in crisis, but the sight of Sydney balancing precariously on the banister as she whooshed toward them from twenty feet up scared the shit out of her. Instinct moved her forward when fear would’ve stuck her feet to the floor. All she knew was she had to get to the child before she fell; nothing else mattered.
And when Sydney’s slight body came to rest in her hands? That’s when the anger hit. “What the hel— Fu—”
The only words that popped into her head were all curses, none of which she could say with Sydney’s wide eyes staring curiously up at her. Instead she plucked the girl from the banister and settled her safely on the nice unmoving floor of the foyer, then spun on Deacon.
His eyes bulged when they met hers, seeming to recognize both her terror and her anger. She wanted to hide it, wanted to hide herself—she didn’t react this way. Ever. She was always under control. But seeing that baby in danger…
And then Deacon laughed, which only made it worse.
Before she could kick his ass—which was really fast—Deacon had scooped Sydney up to his hip and cuddled his daughter close to that broad, muscular chest. “I think you scared our Elliot a bit, Sydney.”
“Oh.” Sydney wiggled out of Deacon’s arms in a shot and raced to her. Tiny arms wrapped around her thigh; a tiny face tilted up to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Elliot. Daddy made sure the rail’s real wide. That way I won’t fall. He taught me how to slide good. It’s okay; he won’t let me get hurt.” The child’s utter belief in her father shone from her eyes, clear as day and as foreign to Elliot as baby dolls and tea parties.
And now everyone was staring. She couldn’t blame them. Her cheeks burned. Of course Deacon would make sure his daughter was safe; the man had hired a specialized team to protect his house from a murderer just for her. So why was Elliot’s heart still pounding? And where the fuck had all her vaunted professional cool gone? “That’s…uh… That’s good.”
Sydney chattered away, seemingly oblivious to Elliot’s breakdown. Elliot realized her hand was atop the little girl’s head when her fingers stroked along the silky brown hair pulled back into a ponytail similar to the ones her mother had put her hair into as a child. Looking down into Sydney’s eyes, caressing her hair, Elliot realized something: Sydney was only a year older than Elliot had been when her mother escaped Mansa’s island. Nora had risked everything to protect her daughter, and now, two decades later, Deacon was trying to do the same thing.
It had to stop. No more little girls should be at risk because Mansa was an egomaniacal bastard. No more parents should feel like this, like their hearts would pound out of their chests, like they couldn’t breathe because they were afraid for their child’s safety. Children deserved to be protected, and Elliot knew, whether she had experience with kids or not, Sydney was hers to protect, just as Mansa was hers to kill.
She carefully pulled her hand away, retreating into the space she knew, the familiar, safe space of her professional persona. Her words slipped into a slight pause when Sydney stopped to draw a breath. “I think it’s time for that tour. I’ll go get the others.”
“No need.” Footsteps accompanied the words, moving down the hall, and then Dain appeared, Saint and King flanking him in their usual positions.
“Speak of the devils.” Deacon introduced Fionn around. Elliot noticed that, after shaking the men’s hands and giving them each a hard stare, Fionn turned to Deacon and gave his friend the barest of nods, the gesture seeming to ease the tightness around Deacon’s eyes. Had Deacon called Fionn in for a second opinion? She could see him wanting an outsider’s perspective; he had a lot to lose if they weren’t the right team to protect his daughter.
Sydney squealed. “Can I show Elliot my room, Daddy?”
Elliot hadn’t known a sound that high could emanate from a creature that small unless said creature was a mouse. She plugged a finger into the ear closest to Sydney and shook it, trying to stop the ringing, but didn’t miss the fact that Deacon’s gaze was still locked on her. It was a fight not to react to him, but every time her interest tried to rise, so did the memory of Dain’s ultimatum. She needed to be objective, in control, not…whatever this was.
And a great start you’ve made with that, Ell.
