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But Deacon had dealt with fugitives like Warren before. Abusers like him had a tough time letting things—or women like Reilly—go. Especially when Reilly was determined to send him to prison for what he did to her.
Men like Warren didn’t appreciate a woman getting the best of him.
About five days ago, Reese had lost what was left of the little patience she’d been clinging to. Not being able to go home, to court, or her office without an escort—who usually was Deacon, sometimes Judge, and in a pinch, Shade—had her climbing the walls and snapping at the smallest thing.
Usually a couple hits off his joint and a glass of wine beat back the beast. But that dragon couldn’t be slayed until after business hours.
Since setting her up at Justice Bail Bonds almost two weeks ago, she had completely taken over Deacon’s office by claiming every inch of desk space, and even a corner on the floor was piled high with files. Worse, he was locked out of his own damn office when she held virtual meetings with her staff or her clients.
Though, he’d grin when he could hear her giving someone shit through the closed door. Sometimes it would even give him wood. Once she’d unlock the door, he’d go in, twist the lock and bend her over the desk, making her neat, organized piles of paperwork not so neat. Or organized.
All of this also pissed off Judge because, even though they tried to muffle their noises, his office was right across the narrow hall and the walls weren’t thick. It didn’t help his grumpiness that Deacon was sharing his office and claimed his couch as a temporary work space. Judge would glare at him when Deacon would return with beads of sweat on his forehead and a satisfied grin.
“You’d be doin’ the same shit with Cassie if she was workin’ here.”
“It ain’t Cassie and it ain’t me. So, fuck you.”
Comments like that would make Deacon howl which pissed off his cousin even more.
But Deacon agreed, sharing Judge’s small office sucked. The only good thing about the situation was—besides getting an occasional bend-over action in the afternoon—Deacon was getting laid every night, too.
Sometimes in his room in the bunkhouse. Sometimes in his apartment. Once on blankets spread in the bed of his Ford truck in one of the distant fields under the moonlit night and surrounded by stars. That night, Reese’s cries, sighs and whimpers joined the mating calls of the crickets. And Deacon’s grunts might have drove the bucks into early rut.
Heh.
Reese tried to insist he stay at the garage all day with Reilly, but between Dutch and the old man’s mechanics—Rook, Cage, Rev and Whip—her sister was more than covered.
When business at the Tioga Pet Crematorium was slow, Shade would grab Cassie’s old Honda, park down the street from the garage and help keep an eye out.
While Judge would have felt better if they weren’t using Reilly as live bait, they needed Warren to see normal activity at the garage—in case he was watching—and not suspect it was a set-up.
But here it was ten days later and Deacon was stuck in a cranky pants sandwich while at the office. He was ready to go hang out at the garage all day, like Reese wanted, just to escape being snapped and growled at from both sides.
They had posted two more photos on Reilly’s IG page since the first one. One was of Reilly behind the desk in Dutch’s now organized office, looking perky and giving a thumb’s up. Another of her and Rook kissing. Yeah, kissing. With tongues and everything. Rook’s hand was planted firmly on her ass with the other dangerously close to squeezing the young blonde’s tit.
As soon as Reese saw it, Deacon knew he wouldn’t be getting any lunchtime action and he’d have to work hard to get some after dinner. He did, but he almost died trying.
It was still fucking worth it. Angry sex with Reese was still damn good sex. And definitely better than no sex. Better yet, no stun gun was involved, both nipple piercings were intact, and his nuts remained tucked safely in his sac.
Thank fuck.
Just the other day, Reese finally put her high heel down and gave them a time limit. If Warren didn’t show up by April thirtieth, she was going home and back to her office. She didn’t care what anyone said.
In reality, if Warren didn’t show up by the end of the month, Deacon doubted he would.
But rumor had it that even when Reese went back to Mansfield, Reilly wasn’t going with her. She was having fun at her job and, in actuality, was pretty damn safe there. None of his brothers would let anything happen to her on their watch. Which meant, she was safer in Manning Grove than Mansfield. Or back in Philly by herself.
