Page 2 of Deviant Bastards

I wait patiently until the door closes with a soft click behind my dad’s second in command, Deacon St James, and then I get as close to the door as I dare to. I am amazed that he doesn’t have a guard currently posted outside of the door like he usually does, but I still have to be careful in case he has the guys doing a patrol around the house. Chairs scrape loudly along the mahogany flooring as each man takes his seat. I remain as silent and still as I can while being careful to watch my footing, especially on the second to last floorboard as that is the one that creaks. I cannot risk one of my dad’s men finding me or worse, him finding me. A shiver runs through my body as I remember the first time I spied on my father and his men.

I watch from the shadows, and I see mum curled up into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible. I wish that I could go to her, but she made me promise not to. She told me to stay in my room, but... I could not help myself. If daddy finds me, he will then take his anger out on the both of us, so I remain frozen to my spot. He rains blow after blow down to my mum’s tiny, fragile body. All the while, his goons stand and do nothing, not that I think he would stop if they tried to stop him. He grins maliciously as he screams at mum. “This is what happens to the whores who ignore my commands! Did you really think that you could plot behind my back… to leave me and that I wouldn’t find out?” As he yells at her, it all clicks into place in my ten-year-old head. Everything makes sense now.

“You will never escape me. I’ll kill you myself before I let you leave with my fucking daughter,” he spits out at her as he gives Mum one last kick to the ribs before he and his goons leave her alone.

I go to step out of my hiding spot when a firm hand lands on my shoulder. I jerk around and come face to face with Deacon. “You shouldn’t be out here, Little Princess,” he says as he picks me up, carrying me out of the room. Once we are back in my room, Deacon puts me down and tells me to go back to bed. “I’ll make sure your mum is okay, I promise,” he whispers as he leaves the room, locking the door behind him.

Mum never tried to leave again after that night. Not until I turned eighteen years old, then she fled. And despite my father’s best efforts, he hasn’t been able to find her since.

A floorboard creaking above my head has me slinking further along the dark hallway. I begin to curse myself for not hiding in the cabinets in Dad’s office, but my fear of getting caught and facing his wrath wouldn’t let me. I’m still trying to remain silent, not for my own sake but for Ellie’s. My dad wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but that doesn't mean he won't use two-year-old, little Ellie against me, and let's face it, this isn’t the first time that he’s threatened to hurt her if I don’t do as he wishes.

“Marcus Olliston has been murdered,” my father states. The room erupts into utter chaos as my father’s men begin to shout over each other. The tension in the air is palpable, and there is no doubt that everyone is worried about what this means for the treaty. “Calm the fuck down, now!” Dad shouts, and instantly the yelling dies down.Shit!

If Marcus is dead, then who the fuck takes over?The quick realisation of how much shit we are in dawns on me. “Kendric,” I mumble to myself.

Someone within the room groans in pain. “Where’s the fucking doc?” Dad snaps. He must have forgotten that Snake was bleeding out in his office. Footsteps pounding up the stairs make me jump, and I silently tiptoe away from my dad’s office, but only a little farther down. I still want to be able to hear some of what’s going on in that room. If Dad had asked, I would have sewn Snake up, but he’s been trying for many years now to keep me away from the violent side of his life. Not that this would be the first time that I’ve seen one of his men bleeding out. Before the treaty was signed with Marcus, the leader of the West Side Reapers, and Ming Lao Chang, the South side Assassins’ boss, the gangs went to war so frequently that nine times out of ten, someone always came home bleeding.

But I know who my father is and what he does. He had me trained in all things martial arts and knives at a young age because, being the heir to his kingdom, he felt that I needed to learn how to protect myself. The only thing that Deacon taught me without my father’s knowledge was how to shoot a gun. After what happened with Mum, Deacon wanted me to be able to protect myself if, for any reason, my dad decided that I would be the next target for his rage. The door to my father’s office opens, and the doc walks in. “Where the fuck have you been?” my father demands, but the door swings closed before I can hear Doc’s reply.

Doc has been the medic for the East Side Warriors for as long as I can remember. He was the one who had to examine my broken elbow when I fell out of a tree at age six. We had a huge apple tree in the back garden, and I really wanted to pick apples, but Mum had told me to wait. She told me she would get one of dad’s men to get me one. I was an impatient child and wanted to do it myself, so I decided to ignore my mum’s command and climbed the tree anyway. Once I had the apple in my hand, the branch that I’d been sitting on snapped under my weight, and I plummeted to the ground, breaking my elbow upon landing. I needed surgery, and unfortunately for my father, Doc refused to operate on me because the break was too bad for even him to fix, so they had to take me to the hospital.

I listen as the door to Dad’s office opens again, and then a few seconds later, it closes with a soft snick. “I know you’re out here, Little Princess. You’re not as stealthy as you think,” Deacon’s baritone voice calls out to me as he walks along the corridor looking for me because, as always, Deacon seems to have a sixth sense for where I am when I’m within the walls of the house. Thankful that the lights on this side of the house are very dim because it means that he can’t see me, at least not yet anyway. I listen intently as his footsteps get closer while he passes by my hiding spot. I slowly creep out and tap him on the shoulder. “What the fuck are you up to?” he questions as he whirls around to face me, his face a stoic mask of anger. “What would you have done if one of the other guys had been sent out to do a round?” He grabs a hold of my arm and starts to pull me along the landing. I try to pull my arm from his grip, but it only makes him hold on tighter, and I know that if I don’t quit fighting him, then I’m going to end up bruised. He opens the door to an almost empty room that has nothing more in it than a table and a few chairs. Deacon practically throws me inside, making me land with an oomph, right on my arse, and I throw him a scowl. “Arsehole,” I grumble. “Stay here until I’ve done my lap... please?” he tacks on at the end as he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Dickhead!” I whisper yell. His chuckle is the only hint I need to know that he heard me. I sit there in an empty seat, waiting for Deacon to finish his lap. A short while later, the key turns in the lock, and he appears. His body takes up the entire doorway, the light from the hallway illuminating his massive form. Deacon has filled out a lot lately; I mean, he was always built like a brick house, but now? Now, he looks like a mix of Thor and the Michelin man. I mean, even his muscles have muscles.

“Seriously?” He chuckles and raises an eyebrow. I laugh and shrug my shoulders. “Stop looking at me like that, Little Princess.”

I grin and stand to stalk closer to him. As I advance, he walks into the room, locking the door behind him. I can’t help but laugh at the infuriated look on his face. “Get real, Deacon. You know you’re not my type.”

Growing up, Deacon was like the big brother that I never had. He was always there, watching over me. After I turned eighteen though, that all changed. He became an even bigger presence in my life, especially after the incident at Club Ivy. I fight back the memory that tries to flood my brain.

“You do know that you shouldn’t be listening to business talk, Harley. What if it had been your father that had caught you?” Deacon asks, his voice a low growl. He only ever uses my name when I’m starting to piss him off. He never did like the fact that I’m always listening to what is going on within my father’s organisation.

“Don’t you think that, as the future boss, I have a right to know what the fuck is going on?” I ask him, but of course, he doesn’t immediately acknowledge my question. Instead, he slowly releases a breath.

“You know that this isn’t the life your mum wanted for you, Little Princess. She wanted you to be, and have, so much more.” I know that he’s right, and I hate that he’s using my mum to make his point.

“Fine.” I concede, sitting back down. “I’ll stay here until the meeting is done, and then I’ll make sure to go back to my room.” He shakes his head at me.What the fuck!

“Nice try, we both know that you won’t. You’re going to walk out that door and return to your room, now,” he demands. His no-nonsense tone makes me want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I know when to pick my battles, and right now, clearly isn’t the time for me to fight him.

“Okay,” I say as I walk to the door. “I’ll check on Ellie on my way back,” I sass as Deacon follows behind me. He watches until I hit the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway before he goes back into my dad’s office, no doubt to let him know there were no problems during his lap.

Ellie’s room is on the second floor of the house, right next to mine. I duck inside as quietly as I can and creep slowly towards her bed. She’s curled up on her front with her butt sticking up in the air. I internally chuckle at the weird way this child sleeps. She has her blanket under her head and her favourite pink bunny tucked under her arm. She looks so tiny sleeping in this massive four-poster bed that’s fit for a princess, and it’s so over the top, but Dad insisted that she have the best.

Once I’m satisfied that she’s asleep for the night, I creep back out of her room and enter mine. I strip out of my black leggings and top as I walk into my bathroom. The bath calls out to me, but I decide just to have a quick shower instead because I’m practically falling asleep on my feet. Crawling into bed, I fall fast asleep before my head even hits the pillow.

The next morning, as I make my way downstairs for breakfast, I spot Barnett doing his laps, and I can’t help but watch him. Barnett is easily six foot six and is made up of solid muscle. Today, his long, blond hair is tied up out of his face. He reminds me of a Viking, one that I can’t help but eye fuck. His shirt barely contains his body, and it looks like it’s about to rip apart at any moment.And oh, how I wish that would happen; a little man candy never hurt anyone.

“Hey, handsome,” I say as I saunter towards him. Barnett looks me up and down, likely taking in my sleep shorts and top. He doesn’t say ‘hey’ back, he merely jerks a nod in my direction and goes to walk around me. I put my hand on his arm to stop him and get his attention. “What? Not gonna talk to me this morning?” I ask as his gaze meets mine. He removes my hand from his arm and brushes past me. “Well, okay then,” I mutter as I make my way down the rest of the stairs. Barnett always was a moody fucker. At first, he would flirt back, but once Deacon got wind of it, he stopped. That’s just one of the many downfalls of being the boss’s daughter. None of the guys give me a second glance anymore; it fucking sucks!

As I enter the kitchen, the first thing that I notice is that my father isn’t here, which is unusual because it’s the one time of day he demands that we eat together. Deacon stands next to the back door, and our nanny Anna is strapping Ellie into her high chair. The little one squirms around until Anna puts a bowl of cereal down in front of her.

“Morning, Miss Harley,” Anna says when I smile at her as she places a mug of tea down on the counter for me.

“Morning, Anna, and good morning little miss,” I say as I approach Ellie and give her a kiss on the forehead. Deacon’s phone chooses that moment to ring. “Yes, sir. I’ll send her right in.” He hangs up and turns to face me. “Your father wants to see you in his office, Harley, but perhaps you better go and put some clothes on first.” He states as he glares at my choice of breakfast attire. I give him the finger as I pick up my mug and head back to my room.

I pull on a pair of dark blue jeans and a black vest top before slipping my feet into a pair of flip-flops. I make my way downstairs towards my father’s office. Knocking on the door, I wait for his voice. “Enter,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.

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