Page 36 of Deacon

“Actually, I’ll have to take a raincheck. My stomach is bubbling and rumbling, so I gotta get home because certain things are meant to be done in the privacy of my home. Next time, though,” I say, walking away from Kiesza like the house is on fire.

My pulse is beating wildly in my neck, and my chest is battling my heart in a war cry with different drum cadences, forcing me to slip out of the house without another word. Thankful for my tennis shoes, I put my purse strap over my head and run in the direction of my vehicle. When I get to the car less than three minutes later, I shakily unlock the door, insert the key in the ignition, and pull away from the curb, all while praying loudly.

“God, please don’t let him follow me. Please protect me from the one who intends to take my life. I know I haven’t always prayed, but please don’t let this be the time You turn your ear from me, oh God.” Tears fall rapidly as I fight the blurring of my vision to steer the vehicle toward my parents’ house.

Unknown:

*image attached

I guess she’s fair game now that you and the pussy ass members of Baxtown Iron are busy chasing your tails. I can’t wait to watch the blood drain from her body.

“Aye,Tinker Belle, when did you last talk to Squeak?” I ask, interrupting the club meeting after getting a picture of Squeak sitting under a tent at some unknown location and the cryptic message that accompanied it.

“Since when do we interrupt meetings, Deacon?” Bulldog asks, frowning.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t replied to any of my messages either,” Tinker Belle says sadly.

“Fuck!” I shout, walking off.

My blood runs cold at the thought of Squeak falling victim to a nigga because I left her unattended while handling club business. Choosing Baxtown Iron over Squeak has never felt right, but I have been in the club so long that my loyalties have always lied within our family unit.

Mhm, blame yourself when you’re visiting Squeak at the cemetery because Baxtown Iron forced you to lose her.

My eyes instantly become glossy at the statement echoing in my mind when an image of a dirt-filled casket flashes before my eyes.

“Is something wrong, Deacon?” Gunz asks from somewhere behind me, yet the torment flowing within me doesn’t allow me to turn toward him.

“I fucked up,” I say over the lump in my throat, trying to suffocate me before continuing toward the back of the clubhouse without another word.

Meeting be damned because the fear gripping me in a bear hug has me seconds from losing my shit, making it imperative for me to distance myself. Entering my room at the clubhouse, I slam the door behind me while unlocking my phone and dialing an unused yet familiar number.

You have reached Janelle’s phone. I’m unable to take your call but please leave a message. When time permits, I’ll give you a callback.

“Come on, Squeak. A nigga needs to hear your voice,” I whisper before redialing the number.

*bam*

Punching my fist into the wall when I get the same results, I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain surging through my hand.

“What the fuck is going on, bro?” Gunz says, bursting through the door.

Wordlessly, I hand Gunz my phone after pulling up the message from the unknown sender while clenching and unclenching my hand.

“Damn. This shit is on us,” Gunz says solemnly before turning behind him for a second. “Aye, Tinker Belle, come here.”

Sitting on the bed, I lower my head, staring at the floor while fear and dread flow through my body heavily.

“Yeah,” Tinker Belle says a minute or so later.

“Call Squeak,” Gunz says.

“What’s going on?” Tinker Belle asks.

Silence fills the air, and I imagine Gunz is showing her my phone because a gasp bounces from the walls before Tinker Belle speaks.

“Damn it. If something happens to my best friend, I’m fucking y’all up.”

*ring, ring, ring*

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