Page 46 of Deacon

“D-did—does he know… Did you say something to him?” Squeak asks, peering up at me with water lining her eyelids.

My chest tightens, and my pulse increases upon seeing the torment shining heavily in Squeak’s eyes. Wiping the lone tear that falls, I kiss her softly while praying some of my strength seeps into Squeak’s pores.

“I’m scared, Deacon,” Squeak says, her bottom lip quivering.

All right, God. I know that nigga, David, was a murderer, but how deep in those streets did he get? Is there a degree of murder Yyou won’t forgive? The things I’m gonna do to these niggas for this moment with Squeak might cause You to reconsider my worthiness for forgiveness.

“With me as your avenger, it’s a fruitless emotion, Squeak. Cry today, but those niggas’ mommas will be the ones shedding tears tomorrow. I guarantee you that.”

“Nooo… I can’t lose you after finally getting to have you,” Squeak says, and tears fall rapidly from her eyes, causing me to squeeze her tighter in my hold.

“Shh. Shh, Squeak. A nigga is way too hood to be crying and shit. Stop crying, love. I ain’t going anywhere. Shh. Come on, baby.” Rocking Squeak, I close my eyes while fighting against the splintering pain in my chest.

A sigh leaves my mouth when Squeak becomes silent except for the sniffles and rising of her chest an unknown time later. Without opening my eyes, I continue rocking Squeak momentarily, breathing more leisurely at the knowledge of Squeak sleeping in my arms. The memory of my impromptu meeting with my brothers flows freely.

The heavy cloud of smoke fills the air in the interior of my truck where Diesel, Gunz, Shadow, and I are after they follow me wordlessly out of the clubhouse.

“How the fuck did we not see this shit?” Gunz asks, blowing smoke from the blunt we’ve been passing around.

Given my occupation, I’m not one to smoke weed, but I desperately needed something to calm me quickly.

“Yeah, this shit is wild. Like, this nigga has been smiling and grinning in our faces for over a year,” Shadow says, shaking his head.

“Who brought the nigga to our doorstep? We need to kill their bitch ass too,” Diesel asks, glaring.

“Shid, I don’t know. He popped up one of the times we hosted a party in the clubhouse,” I say with my brows wrinkling while trying to remember who Too Sweet hit the scene with before coming up blank.

“Does it even matter, though?” Gunz asks.

“Fuck no. I’m killing Too Sweet’s wannabe CIA ass,” I say deadpan.

“For sure. How are we gonna handle this shit?” Shadow asks.

“For now, we’re gonna act like everything is cool. I want to catch the nigga and his people off guard,” I say, taking the blunt from Gunz and pulling hard until my lungs protest, forcing me to release the smoke gathering in my lungs.

“Mm,” Squeak moans and jumps in her sleep, snatching me out of the brief memory when I feel her jerk.

Opening my eyes, I kiss her forehead and start rocking again, reminding her of my presence and allowing her to settle down.

This is the last time you’ll deal with the aftermath of torment, Squeak.

Several days later…

Chile,Deacon is an attentive man. A thoughtful man. A loving man. Yet, he’s about to shock my system by revealing his romantic side.

“If you tell anyone I did this shit, I’ll deny it and your pussy from riding my dick,” Deacon says, staring at me while a frown that doesn’t reach his eyes forms.

Taking my hand, he walks me from his truck’s passenger seat to the back, where my hand covers my wide-open mouth.

“Awe. This is so cute.”

“Mhm. I would like to make this something we do on a regular after the kids come because I already know those little fuckers are gonna have us desperate for alone time.”

The bed of his truck is set up for the perfect dinner for two. I have never had a man put this much thought into date night. On top of the white blanket are four pillows with two on each side of the truck. Then there’s a wooden crate-like table where two glasses of red liquid sit, waiting with a starlit candle. In front of the makeshift table is a bottle of Stella Rosa Red and a wicker basket of flowers similar to the ones surrounding us. Adjacent to the wine is a wood tray holding a plate of grapes, cheese cubes, and bite-size pieces of salami. Next to the tray is an open pizza box that has my stomach growling.

“You and these kids… I don’t recall agreeing to give you any.”

“I’m glad you think you have a choice, Squeak. Come on, so we can move along this part of our date night.” Lifting me gently, Deacon places me on the fuzzy blanket I would never picture him owning.

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