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“He broke my heart, Lemon.” I turned away from my sister, reaching for my phone lying on the nightstand. “He left me. Not the other way around. I choose not to repeat that lesson.”
“I’ve never asked you for anything, Apple. We always work together, each anticipating the other’s needs. We always have. I’m asking you to listen to what he has to say.”
“Not this time, Lemon. This isn’t something you can help me with.”
“I can and I am. You and Deacon belong together. Why do you think I pushed you toward him when we were sixteen? He’s what you need.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not what he needs.” My voice was much louder than I intended. I knew my sister, though. Unless I took a strong stand, she’d shove me in the direction she thought I needed to go whether I wanted to go or not. “I deserve better.” No one but Lemon would hear the pain in my voice. My sister knew me, though. She knew how badly Deacon had hurt me even if I hadn’t told her exactly what happened from my point of view.
We were both silent for a long while. When Lemon didn’t say anything else, I shoved my phone in my back pocket and headed toward the door.
The clinic was dark which meant Bullet had left Lemon and Cecilia in charge of me while he got some sleep. No doubt Lemon had sent Cecilia to bed while I’d been out of it. Just meant there were fewer obstacles to me leaving.
The night air was warm and humid but not unpleasant. I took off at a brisk walk down the wide, dirt path. Rocket had given me a house near his and Lemon’s so I was close to my sister, but not so close I could hear the two of them getting freaky.
Took a few minutes, but I finally made it inside my house and locked the door behind me. hurried into my bedroom and practically dove inside the closet. When Deacon had broken things off with me, I’d used this as my safe space. A place I could decompress in private when things got too hard. There were blankets set up in the very back corner. My body screamed in protest, but I lay with my face down against the blankets and raged with all the fury, anger, and pain inside me. The blankets muffled most of the noise, but my throat was raw and aching.
For the second time tonight, I cried myself to sleep. Tomorrow. I’d deal with everything tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Deacon
It was time to go hunting. I had a fuck-ton of rage built inside me and I was going to take it out on every motherfucker who was involved with the attack on Grim Road. I didn’t really care about anyone there, though I respected everyone I’d met from Grim. The only person I cared about was Apple. She was hurting both physically and emotionally and I was the cause of at least one of them. There was a good possibility me and Sting hadn’t hidden my relationship with Apple as well as I’d hoped and that could have played a part, but Sting and Wylde didn’t think so. And yeah, the meeting with Wylde had gone about as well as I could have expected. Which is to say I nearly got my ass beat. Again.
I had a meeting with one of the scum tonight. It was the only fucking reason I’d left Apple instead of sitting with her, no matter what her wishes had been. I needed to be near her. To know she was safe and healing. I needed to be there taking care of her. Which just pissed me the fuck off all the more.
I was done. Done. This was it. What I was about to do would get my club to cull me and rightfully so. But, by God, I was tired of this.Allof this. Men who hurt women for the fun of it. Men who sold women and children to the highest bidder. Hell, a man like Borris Illivitch who could sell his own stepdaughter to settle his debts? None of them deserved to live. They deserved to have the same things happen to them as they sold their prey into. That was exactly what I was gonna dish out tonight.
I’d killed plenty of times since I’d joined the Marines. Even more when I’d been loaned to the CIA because I was the best hunter in service. I was young and inexperienced, but I wasa go-getter. So I’d killed. So many fucking times. Never once did I leave the killing field that I didn’t feel the need to puke. It’s why I didn’t make a career out of the military or even move on to private work with the CIA. This time, however, I was looking forward to the fucking killing.
No. That wasn’t entirely true. I wasn’t looking forward to the actual killing. I was looking forward to what came… before. Every single man I was getting ready to kill was going to suffer like they’d never dreamed. The fucking thing about it was, I’d never even come close to snapping like this. The mere thought that any of this had come to touch Apple -- in any way at all -- drove me to a murderous rage. Combine that with her complete and totalrightfulrejection of me and the need to go scorched earth on these men was a compulsion. It was the only thing that might come close to easing some of the anger and grief inside me.
“Easy there, brother.” Falcon settled himself next to me. He kept a wary distance, eyeing me like I was a ticking time bomb. He wasn’t wrong.
“Ain’t your brother,” I muttered as I went back to studying the yachts anchored in the marina. Big-ass boats for the ultra-rich wannabes. Borris Illivitch fell into that category. He had money, but not nearly as much as he wanted. Or needed. He was currently on that boat. And I wanted on it with him.
“Sure you are. We’re Marines. That makes us brothers, right?”
I didn’t even look at the guy. “Nope.”
“Come on, Deacon. You don’t want to go in there alone.” Finally, I glanced at Falcon. The other man was quartering the area like a pro. I knew he’d be a good man to have at my back. I also knew he was only here because Rocket wanted to make sure I didn’t make a mess in his territory. He didn’t care if the guy died. He just didn’t want anything to lead back to his clubor any of his men. Which was fine. I got it. But when I hunted, I went alone. Always. Which is why Falcon would soon find out he wasn’t going any-fucking-where.
“Yeah, Falcon. I’m going in by myself. Don’t want or need you to have my back.” I moved, sitting up and fiddling with my go bag while Falcon continued to study the boat and area around it. He really should pay attention to his immediate surroundings. After this lesson, he would from now on.
“Tough shit, bro. Got orders I’m to stay on your six.” Falcon didn’t take his eyes from the boat. He had field glasses up now.
I glanced at my watch. It was synced with Wylde’s and he was switching off all security cameras in exactly fifteen seconds. “Then stay on my six. Way the fuck back on my six.” I stood and moved toward the pier. Falcon… didn’t.
“The fuck, Deacon,” he hissed. Which was good, ‘cause if he’d given me away, I’d fucking shoot him and deal with the fallout later. “Get the fuckin’ cuff off my ankle.”
I turned and grinned at him. “Stay put, sunshine.”
Falcon continued to sputter but he did it quietly so he got to live. Not that I cared much. I just didn’t want that bastard, Borris, having a fucking heads-up he was being hunted.
Getting on the yacht was surprisingly easy. I’d expected guards and was ready, but the kids had no idea what they were doing. Not only that, but they were light with only two men on the gangway, one inside, and the captain. Taking them out was easy.
Once the captain was knocked out, I dragged all the men off the boat and secured them on the pier. Falcon would get loose eventually and take care of them because he didn’t have much of a fucking choice. Then I made a round on the boat. Borris, the fucker, was passed out in his cabin. What I assumed was cocaine lay in messy lines on a mirror beside the bed.Bastard must have been completely wasted.
