Page 93 of Deacon

Her throat worked. “Please.”

No part of me could live with that answer. I wanted the truth before another second passed. I wanted enough time to understand what had just been put in front of me. Both needs tore in opposite directions, leaving me standing there with my pulse pounding against injuries that suddenly felt insignificant.

Then a truck rolled into the lot.

The girl looked first, dread replacing shock.

“Grandpa and Uncle Matty came back,” she said.

Matty.

Richard’s truck stopped, and both doors opened. Richard got out carrying pizza boxes. Matty came around the front talking until he saw me.

He stopped dead.

“What the fuck?” Matty barked, his whole body jerking like somebody had struck him. “What are you doing here? Where the hell have you been?”

His accusation swung toward Lila before I could answer.

“Have you been in contact with him all these years and keeping it from me?” he demanded. “How could you?”

“No,” Lila shot back immediately. “No, I haven’t…”

Matty’s attention had already moved to the girl.

Recognition hit him with none of the confusion I was still fighting through. His face changed as he took her in, the coloring, the shape of her mouth, the stubborn way she stood there trying to hold herself together. Something ugly settled behind his eyes before he ever looked back at me.

“Sonnofabitch,” he said.

Cold slid through me.

“You sonnofabitch. It was you.”

He charged.

My body was still healing, whether I respected that fact or not. My temper forgot. My ribs and shoulder remembered.

I had enough time to brace before his fist caught my jaw and snapped my head sideways. Pain flashed hot through my face. Lila screamed. So did the girl, and that sound cut through the surge of anger faster than the punch.

Priest moved, but Ink reached Matty first. Between them they dragged him off before he could land another clean shot.

“Stop!” Lila was screaming. “Stop, he is injured, you could kill him!”

She tried to reach us, but Richard caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “Dammit, Dad, let me go!”

He held her as if he had any right to.

“No,” he growled. “This is earned. If that ass got you pregnant and stranded you, he deserves every last inch of what’s coming to him.”

Blood flooded my mouth from where my teeth had cut my cheek, sharp and metallic. My ribs protested every breath after the hit even though Matty had never touched them. He fought Priest and Ink hard enough to prove rage had buried whatever judgment he usually carried.

Richard made it worse.

“Did he assault you? Why would you cover for him and protect him?”

Lila spun and slapped him.