“No, you dumbass. I need you toshow mewho put you up to this.”
I can’t help but admire his ingenuity. Technically, setting up a meeting and doingeverything in my powerto stay hidden but of course, failing to account for Deacon Hollingsworth’s talent… would keep me well within the boundaries of my original contract.
You never want the reputation of a snitch.
“That might work.”
Deacon gives me a look as if to suggest it hadbetter fucking workbut I can’t control the future. I might be able to get him what he wants without losing my hide. I won’t make it free.
“Putting my ass on the line could cost me a hell of a lot,” I start, keeping my mind fully fixed on my goal of getting some money out of this considering I really am putting myself at quite a disadvantage by getting involved in all this messy business between families.
“I don’t have time for this, Zeb.”
“And I don’t have money.”
“Doesn’t the government give you like a million fucking dollars to sit on your ass siphoning my tax dollars.”
“You pay your fair share of taxes?”
Deacon snarls. “How much do you want? And hurry the fuck up, because I don’t have all night to deal with this.”
He acts like I personally interrupted him from fucking his wife. I’m only down here looking for profitable work. I have to get my brain thing sorted out but honestly, I don’t remember or understand the medical details. The missing eye doesn’t help. Makes it hard to shoot.
I get to work properly again when the doctors clear me and so far – not clear.
I need more than my military stipend to work on my bike and travel across this country in freedom. There’s no hope of lockingdown an old lady in this day and age without having a fair chunk of change.
“I need $7,000.”
That would give me enough to survive a month or two on the road. I could get a pair of new tires for my bike and maybe even drive back out to my trailer out in Missouri and fix it up a bit. So long as I don’t stop to gamble anywhere along the way, I could make that money stretch.
“That’s it?” Deacon asks. “Fine. I’ll wire it over in the morning. Contact your personnow, Zeb. I don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my wife.”
His wife…
Pretty lady. Nice big butt. Perfect smile. I’ve never been in bed with a woman who had skin as dark as that but in the military, you get plenty of opportunity to fantasize. There was this one woman I worked with very briefly during my deployment... she smelled like frankincense just naturally with no perfume on.
Maybe it was her hair. Either way, I understand Deacon’s urgency. If I had a woman like that, I would never leave her alone for a second.
“I’ll send a text,” I tell Deacon. “Where should we all meet up?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Magnum
Ilet her fall asleep in my arms without telling me that she loves me and wake up before she does, holding Damara’s warm body against my slow-breathing chest.
Damara won’t say that she loves me, but her ass still throbs from her freshly inked tattoo and until that tattoo heals, I will allow this pink-haired temptress agrace periodbefore pressuring her about the state of our relationship.
I know she does, even if the words don’t slip out so easily because Damara’s life has been filled with hurt and pain before she knew me. I know it’s hard for her to believe everything will be different with the baby, but I will do everything in my power to make our lives different. She can pursue the career of her dreams and I know that will only make us stronger.
I don’t fear this pink-haired creature’s strength… as badly as I sometimes want to tame it. She falls asleep with her butt against my thigh and her pregnant tummy sticking out like a little baby-filled hump. The closer we get to her due date, the more scared I should get. This will be completely unfamiliar territory for me.
Damara awakens slowly as I stroke her hair and twirl a few pink strands around my fingers. I don’t think I’ll everunderstand why she chooses to have bright hair that attracts attention like a beacon, but it makes her stand out even more than she already does with her figure and her vibrant mahogany-toned skin.
“You’re… my… butt cheek…” Damara mutters in her sleep, wriggling her ass against my thigh as she unconsciously nestles against me. I kiss her cheek as I slide out of bed. Mornings like this one, I wonder if I want to know the truth.
Whoever initiated Damara’s drugging and led her to my lair might not have had the best intentions. They didn’t expect us to fall into bed together or to embrace this new child. Or did they? Aside from tricking Damara into my bed, there’sbeennothing else to suggest some nefarious or larger overarching plot. Even if the culprit were lying in wait for something to happen… How would me and Damara having a baby help or hurtanyonein the club?
