Page 149 of Haze

Nikki’s number came up on the screen as I walked through my apartment door after a few quick errands.

“Okay, so don’t be mad,” Nikki starts with appeasing tones and a soft whine. The whine disarms any thought that there’s trouble.

“What is Lena asking you to do?” I ask and hear Lena’s voice in the background with what I think is, ‘I told you so.’

“Could we grab dinner first? It’s a long way home, and I don’t like to eat while I drive because there are deer.” Nikki’s voice raises a little.

“Stay together. Make sure Lena leaves her phone on. If something happens, call me right away. I’ll come to you.”

I would rather they not, but I won’t have them driving unsafe.

“Thank you!” Nikki answers before the line disconnects.

And while Lena’s dinner with Brayden did not go well, I have a distinct feeling I can trust Nikki.

* * *

But trusting Nikki doesn’t stop me from using the software Cade gave me to keep tabs on Lena’s cell phone movements while I cook dinner.

A knock comes to the door as I put the leftovers into the fridge. Lena’s phone is still in the restaurant she and Nikki went to. Walking light across the floor, I cross as far away from the door as possible to the side where my coat and holster sit. I don’t bother with the peephole. If you’re looking to be shot, the best way to do it is to stand behind the door, trying to figure out who’s there.

When I open it, the man darkening my doorstep is the last person I suspected.

“Deacon, what’s the sermon?” I ask, stowing my gun back into the holster by the door.

“Depends.” His eyes dart to the holster with my gun. “If you don’t like what I have to say, are you shooting me?”

I give him a smile. “No offense, but you’re not worth the trouble.”

“Good, we’re already on the same page.” Deacon steps across the threshold.

“Your sister knows you’re here?”

Deacon looks around the bare-bones-furnished apartment and back at me but doesn’t say anything for a long time.

He then shakes his head. “Lena wouldn’t like why I’m here. But I’ve it on good information that she’s not here.”

Trying to be a good host, I motion toward the seating area before stepping back into the kitchen. “Get you something? Make yourself at home. I suppose it kind of already is yours?”

In his own quirky way, Deacon sits down on the arm of the sofa. His hand is in front of his mouth like he’s seen a ghost. Which, I guess he probably sees more than one.

“Why did you give up your position as Second or, I guess, Enforcer?” Deacon’s squinting at the chair in the corner.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like, working with your brother. It can’t always be the easiest thing.” I avoid the question.

Deacon shakes his head. “Try again. You and I both know you’re haunted as fuck. One doesn’t ask for amnesty and a place within another pack without reason.”

A chill hits me. “If you know, then why are you asking?”

“Humor me.” Deacon rolls his eyes. A knowing grin crosses his face.

In the time I’ve spent with him, I haven’t gotten a good read on Deacon. He’s a conglomerate of personalities. They range from stoic to downright goofy and back again.

I pass him a beer and the opener before answering his question. “I couldn’t be a loyal soldier to his army anymore. He sent kids to their death like it was inconsequential.”

The words feel strange. It’s the first time I’ve talked about them since I left home. I suppose Deacon is used to talking about the dead.

Deacon waits patiently.

---