Page 19 of Deacon

“All right. If there’s nothing else, let’s head out. Keep your eyes open at all times and be safe,” Diesel says, closing the meeting.

Everyone begins moving in varying directions, greeting each other before heading toward the exit. Feeling the need to head home to sleep off the liquor coursing through my system, I make my way to the door with Shadow and a few of the members onmy heels. Sassy, Leggs, and Sinful are talking about whatever women find interesting as we all begin filing out of the door. Not wanting to talk to anyone, I move toward my bike while watching the others make their way to their iron and cars.

*zzrrtt*

A blacked-out four-door car comes barreling into the parking lot with three men hanging out of the passenger and back windows, guns raised.

“Get—”

*tattt, tatt, boom, boom*

Gunfire cuts off my words as the men begin firing upon my club members. I run toward the car while pulling my gun from my back.

*pop, pop, pop… tatt, tatt*

Shadow and I begin returning shots as the car quickly flees the lot, exiting the street damn near on two wheels. Screams echo around the perimeter as my heart thumps wildly in my chest before I turn to see if anyone has been hit.

“Oh God,” Sassy screams.

“My leg,” Sinful cries, writhing on the ground as blood pours from her right leg.

“Shit!” Shadow shouts.

“Fuck!” I say while gritting my teeth at seeing one of my brothers holding his left arm as blood spills between his fingers. Another brother is hobbling on his right foot with an apparent bullet wound.

“These niggas coming back,” someone says, causing me to lift my gun at seeing a car creeping down the street, headed toward the clubhouse.

“Wait. Wait. That’s Squeak,” Tinker Belle says, running before me so I don’t start firing on the car.

Shit! Of all the times for this stubborn ass woman to return to the clubhouse, why does it have to be after a fucking drive-by?

Loud, piercing wails in the distance have me concealing my weapon at the knowledge of police heading in our direction. Squeak’s car comes to a stop horizontally, but she doesn’t make any attempts at turning the vehicle off or getting out. The driver’s window slowly comes down as Squeaks looks at the scene with confusion and an assessing gaze that increases my temple vein's pulsing. Words seem to fail Squeak when her mouth opens and closes, and she continues looking around at the aftermath of the last five minutes.

“Let me talk to her,” Tinker Belle says, gently tapping my chest before turning and heading toward Squeak’s car.

Squeak’s eyes flash with various emotions the closer Tinker Belle gets to the car before relief settles in her orbs. With my eyes laser-focused on the exchange between the two friends, my chest tightens when Tinker Belle opens the driver's door. Squeak wraps her arms tightly around Tinker Belle, and my heart crashes to my feet when the first set of tears falls from Squeak’s eyes.

Damn, I fucked up…

An hour prior…

Not ready to go home andhide amid the darkness in my apartment, I came to a restaurant that looked like a hole-in-the-wall place. The peeling and chipping brick exterior made me hesitant to park my car in the parking lot on the side of the building. My nerves danced with every step before I reached the front door. Yet the heavenly and soulful aroma penetrating my nose pushed me forward. Now, I’m sitting at a booth off to the side of the front door, staring at the menu, trying to determine what I’m in the mood to eat. Unlike most restaurants, this one had a sign stating the open seating allowance upon entry.

“Welcome to Evie’s Table. My name is Delores, and I’ll be taking care of you. Can I get you some water while you look over the menu?” a mature female voice says, pulling me from the options available.

“Yes, please,” I say, returning the warm smile Ms. Delores is displaying.

Fondness and joy shine through her brown eyes, causing my weary disposition to instantly settle the longer I stare at this woman who’s old enough to be my aunt.

“Coming right up, sweetie,” Ms. Delores says, sauntering away while humming.

Returning my focus to the menu, I bite my bottom lip while trying to decide on a meal to satisfy my empty stomach.

“Janelle.” The sound of someone calling my name again pulls me from the menu as I look up to see a familiar face.

“Zurmani?”

“Yes. I thought that was you. When did you get back to town?”

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