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*****
Taking a skim cigar out of the gold case, Deacon slowly rolled it between his fingers before clamping it between his teeth. Placing the case on the table next to his hip, he flicked the lighter and put the flame to the tip until it glowed red.
Putting the lighter next to the case, he walked over to the white rail of the gazebo he had taken refuge in and stared out at the stunning view through the smoke billowing upwards.
The Elite Club was more than a hundred years old and was a sprawling building sitting on several thousand acres of land. Yards of green grass, velvety in texture, made for a perfect backdrop to the profusion of flowers blooming everywhere.
Tall, stately trees, palm trees, oak, redwood, and pretty fruit trees dotted the grounds. The wind blew the leaves and sent the heady scent of flowers into his nostrils.
He had come out, excusing himself from the card game to get some fresh air and to gather his thoughts. The memories had come last night, vicious and debilitating, and had left him harried and irritable this morning.
Dragging on the cigar, he closed his eyes and pulled it into his lungs.
“I came out here to be alone.”
“So did I.” The deep voice had a hint of amusement that was unmistakable. “I thought you had given up the habit.”
“I took it up again, not that it’s any of your business.”
“I always seem to make everything my business.” Liam Moses moved forward to lean his forearms against the railing, casting his friend a speculative glance. “You left in the middle of an exciting card game.”
“Is it over?”
“Just. Adam had the winning hand and raked in everything. Bastard.” He added mildly, causing Deacon to chuckle.
“It’s for charity, remember?”
“I am aware. I just hate losing. You look like hell.”
“Why, thank you.” Grounding out the half-smoked cigar into the crystal ashtray, he turned to look at his friend. “I can always count on you to be brutally honest.”
“What are friends for?”
Deacon snorted at that and turned back to his contemplation of the view. Someone was in one of the pools doing laps, and several feet to the left, there was the sound of balls slamming against rackets, indicating a very strenuous game of tennis.
It was getting dark with the temperature dropping. He could feel the cool air against his skin, reminding him that he had forgotten the lightweight jacket he had left inside the card room.
“Molly Givens came to see me yesterday.” He murmured, without looking at Liam.
“What the hell for?”
Deacon smiled at the hint of outrage in the man’s voice.
“Yesterday was the anniversary of Janice’s death.”
“I had completely forgotten about that,” Liam murmured, gazing at the man’s uncompromising profile. “How do you feel?”
He was subjected to a sideways glance of icy amusement. “Trying to psycho-analyze me?”
“I am trying to get through the layers you have put on your emotions. Did you remember the occasion?”
“It’s embedded inside my damn soul.” He growled. “She took away my chance of having a child. It was after the accident that I got the DNA test. I had doubts about being the father of the baby she was carrying for good reason.
She was also screwing two other bastards. I knew she was a promiscuous bitch, and I allowed her to con me into going to bed with her that night. She came crying, asking for forgiveness and a second chance, and I allowed myself to believe her. I need a bloody drink.”
As if by magic, a waiter materialized, and Liam placed the order. He stood there silent as his friend battled with his demons. Deacon Manchester had been through so much that Liam wondered how he was still standing. Their drinks were brought to them, and they sipped for a few seconds.
“I apologize.” Deacon finally said abruptly as he placed his glass on the edge of the railing.
