"What are you doing in this place?" he asked, jolting her from her train of thought.
Monica looked up at him. "Um…"
He rubbed briefly at the distinct mark on his forearm while waiting on her answer. Maybe it was just a bruise.
"A friend and I were invited here," she stated, looking around at her surroundings.
There was so much attention on her now, she couldn't stand it. Even the crowd had parted around them. Evan wasn't on the ground anymore, he had gotten up and limped right back toward them.
"Hey asshole," Evan said, and then clapped his hand on Deacon's shoulder and tried to spin Deacon around. Deacon held his stance like a granite statute rooted to the floor.
"Hey," Evan continued, pushing aggressively on Deacon's left shoulder. "You did not just fucking interru—"
Deacon moved with lightning fast strength. He turned around, grabbed Evan by the neck, and then body-slammed him into the wall right beside Monica. Evan's and Monica's shoulders were only inches from touching. She could literally feel the fear rolling off Evan in waves. The warning growl that came next belonged to Deacon.
"If you touch her again under any circumstances…and I mean, under any circumstances, I'll tear out your goddamned throat," Deacon warned. "You understand?"
Evan's only reply was a grunt and a gurgle. His feet were off the ground as Deacon held him flat against the wall. Deacon's forearms were the size of thick logs. All taut skin and lean muscles. It looked like Deacon could've bench pressed five times Evan's weight with the way he was holding the guy up in the air like a skimpy snake—with only one hand.
The blood drained from Evan's face and neck, and three bouncers raced to the scene, ordering Deacon to release Evan.
As soon as Deacon let Evan go he leaned over and hurled up the contents of his stomach. Evan ran off through the crowd with a bouncer on his tail. The other two stayed behind to question Deacon about what happened. He recounted almost to the "T" what he witnessed.
The bouncer turned to her for confirmation. "Is this all true?"
"Yes it is. Evan's normally not like this. I tried to push him off, but he's drunk out of his mind," she replied.
A beeping sound came from the two-way radios of one of the bouncers. He stepped off to the side to answer the page.
"The incident has been documented. Would you both be willing to give statements after tonight if needed?" the remaining bouncer asked.
"That's fine," Deacon said.
"I guess so," Monica replied.
The bouncer took their names, clipped his radio back to his belt, and then said, "Deacon, you know the drill. You gotta get out of here, buddy."
"No problem. I was headed that way before I saw that creep manhandling a woman," Deacon said.
"Ugh…" The bouncer who had moved off to the side to answer a page on his radio came back. "I think it's a little too late for that. Roy says the dude ran into the bathroom and then called the cops. They're on their way right now."
Monica's heart dropped low in her belly. She shook her head. "No, he didn't…he couldn't have called the police. He's the one who instigated this mess."
"You need to tell that to the cops when they get here. I don't know what relation you have to your other friend, but he's in the club right now crying about how the wolf nearly killed him," Bouncer number one told her.
"Shit! We can't have the police in here again. We already have one strike for the last incident. Leo will be pissed," Bouncer number two said, and then he turned to Deacon and said, "If you're gonna run, you need to get the hell out of here now."
"Run? What for?" Deacon frowned. "I did nothing wrong. Besides, I'm just as good as screwed. Better I stay here than have Leo or anyone else answering for my actions."
"Deacon, I'm so sorry," Monica said.
"None of this is your fault. If that punk had kept his hands to himself, none of this would've happened. I did what I did and I'd do it again."
When the cops arrived, most everyone stopped mingling and dancing to cast curious glances their way. Even Brianna came running out of nowhere.
"Monica, what happened?" she asked.
"I can't talk right now," Monica said, anxiously, looking on in horror as the cops ushered Deacon through the crowd and toward the door.
Deacon turned around. "You go home. Don't put yourself in danger tonight. Go home."
“But Deacon…"
The thick crowd made it difficult for her to keep up with him and the cops.
"Monica! Answer me," Brianna demanded. "What just happened?"
"Evan's here. He cornered me and Deacon came over to help."
"Who's Deacon? And where are you going?"
"Brianna, no time to talk."
Monica slipped off her stilettos and shoved her way through the throng of people and out the door where two cop cruisers had pulled up alongside the entrance. In addition to Deacon and the bouncer recounting what happened, Evan was being aided for having a bloodied and bruised noise. Monica hadn't even remembered Deacon hitting Evan. Had Evan done this to himself? She had a sick feeling in her stomach and if she hadn't held off on eating before Brianna picked her up earlier, she probably would've been hurling on the ground.
Monica approached the cops, intent on making this right.
"Is this the girl he had hemmed up against the wall?" the cop asked.
"Yup," the bouncer said.
"Ma'am, what's your name?"
"It's Monica Collins. Officer, please don't hold this against Deacon, he was only helping me. As you can see, Evan's the one who's clearly had too much to drink," she stated.
The cop put his hands on his hips. "He's also the one with a busted nose. Did you see the whole thing?"
"Yes. Deacon never punched him. If Evan is saying otherwise, that's a lie."
Evan ran up just as she was finished giving her statement and screamed, "You lying whore! This is a cheating bitch. Don't believe her. Those two dogs have probably fucked her and they must have pumped her full of lies to tell on me."
Deacon stepped out in front of Monica and growled at Evan. The sound of it wasn't something just any old human could make. This was pure animal. Pure rage. Deacon's rage.
"Did you forget what I told you in there?" Deacon asked between clenched teeth. "Do you think I give a fuck that the cops are standing here? You do or say anything else to hurt her and I'll pound your face so hard on this ground, you'll suffer from more than just a little nose bleed."
Evan backed up a full six to eight feet.
"Alright, alright," the cop intervened. "That's enough from the both of you."
"You're damned right, that's enough. I wanna press charges," Evan shouted.
"No!" Monica exclaimed. "You do not get to press charges on a man that came to my defense."
"Monica." Deacon shook her head. "It's okay. Don't get yourself upset over this. I've got this."
"Deacon, this wasn't supposed to happen," she said. "All I wanted to do was find you. I didn't know he'd be here."
"All things happen for a reason." He handed her the drawstring bag he'd been holding on to all along. "Hold this for me, okay? I'd rather you keep it than check it into the jail."
"The jail…?" she mumbled, reluctantly accepting his bag of belongings. "This is unfair."
"Alright, that's enough. Let's get going, son," the cop interjected.
"Our time is always cut short," she said, frowning. "I wanted to ask you about the hummingbirds."
His expression stilled and grew serious. "You know about the hummingbirds?"
"I…" Her mind reeled with confusion and she sighed with exasperation. Of all the things she wanted to tell him and to thank him for, she had to go and mention the damn birds instead. “Look, I’m so confused. Where can I find you?"
Deacon half laughed. "After this, do you really want to find me?"
Monica swallowed hard, disturbed at the thought of not seeing him again. "Of course."
"I'll find you. Go now and let m
e take care of this," he said firmly.
"Come on, son," the cop urged. "You could have talked about some damn birds peacefully inside instead of punching dude in the face. You know who he is, right?"
"I don't care who he is," Deacon grumbled. "If you're gonna arrest me, arrest me. I choose to remain silent."
The cop pushed Deacon toward his cruiser.
Evan crossed his arm over his chest. "Yeah, let's see how you take care of these assault charges." He had a nasty frown on his face.
"Actually Sir, we're gonna have to take both of you in," the cop told Evan. "He needs to answer some more questions. And you're drunk off your ass disturbing the peace. You'll be charged as well."
"No, the fuck I won't. My daddy’s the judge! I have lawyers…" Evan's protests went on and on as the cop dragged him toward the cruiser and shoved him in the back seat.
Deacon, on the other hand, went willingly. He showed no fear. And it seemed he had no remorse for what he'd done.
Monica felt terrible. She brought her palms up to cover her face and blew outward in frustration.
What had just happened? How was she going to make this right?
11
When Monica had gone down to the county jail only a few minutes after Deacon had been booked, they'd informed her that they likely wouldn't be letting him go until he'd already been questioned by the Sheriff. And it happened to be a night that the Sheriff was out until early that morning. Thinking that she would be the one to bail Deacon out of jail first thing in the morning, she'd gone home and then set her alarm clock for the crack of dawn. But when she arrived at the county jail, like a rogue, Deacon was gone.
"What happened to him?" Monica asked the clerk behind the counter.
"Ma'am, I don't have all that information. His file has been pulled. He was released this morning. If you don't see him out in the waiting area, he's long gone. None of them shifters like to stay locked up long. Once they get outside the gates, they haul ass."
Monica sighed. "Thanks." She walked away from the counter. She was relieved that Deacon wasn't locked up in jail, but she was now back at square one—finding out where the hell he was. And this time, she knew he wanted to see her. She had his bag. Of course, she wanted to believe that he would want to see her if she hadn't kept his bag for him.
When she walked outside and looked up at the skies, the drab gray clouds reminded her of the afternoon she met Deacon Remy on the side of the road. That day, he had been her only reassurance that everything would be okay. Even now she craved his presence. She needed to know that everything was okay and that he wouldn't skip town again so soon.
12
The trip to the mountains took Monica a little over thirty minutes. She probably could've gotten there in less time, but once she saw a glimpse of the mountains she couldn't help but to slow down and admire the views. Even the air was cleaner out here and she drove with her windows down all the way to the market.
Her first stop was a grocery store called Pat's Grocery and Eatery. The store even had public restrooms that looked halfway decent. She sipped on a mug of iced coffee the whole way here knowing she'd need the extra caffeine due to the lack of sleep she'd gotten last night. Her bladder had protested halfway to her destination, but between the valleys and the mountains there were few places that catered to the public. She had passed a meat cutting place several miles up the road that claimed they had public restrooms, but evidently she didn't need to go that badly. Every other traveler must have had the same idea, because when she entered the grocery store there was a short wait to access one of the bathroom stalls.
Before leaving the store, Monica picked up some snacks and other items and took them over to the cashier.
"Hi," Monica said, hoping to make small talk.
"Hey." The girl made it a point to avoid Monica's gaze as she wrung up the items.
Monica tried again. "This is my first time in the mountains. I've lived in Aspen Valley for several years and now I wish that I'd come out here sooner. It's so beautiful."
"You'll like it, I guess." The cashier shrugged. "It's quiet and peaceful."
"How long have you lived out here?" Monica asked.
"For three months. My family and I moved from Georgia when a paper mill was built in the middle of our neighborhood. We couldn't survive in that type of environment, you know…"
The cashier finally looked up, showing off the prettiest set of green eyes that Monica had ever seen. The way her irises were shaped reminded Monica of Deacon's.
"Your total comes to twenty dollars and eighty-eight cents," the cashier said.
Monica handed her an American Express card and then asked, "If I wanted to get my car checked out before heading back into the valley, where would I go for that? Is there a place nearby? Like an auto body shop?"
"Not really. The one they had out here has been closed for over a year. There's a mechanic working out of the gas station right next door to it though."
"Thank you. I think I'll look into that before I leave. Where is it exactly?"
"You'll turn right out of the parking lot and then you'll need to take East Edgefield Road for about half a mile. It's right on the side of the road. You won't miss it." The cashier gave Monica back the credit card and a receipt to sign.
"Thanks again." She grabbed her bags off the counter.
"Hey," the cashier called out, stopping Monica before she could take another step. "Where are you staying again?"
"Um…with a friend. We're camping." Monica smiled.
The cashier's nose flared and then she said, "Sure."
Monica rushed out of the store with her bag, eager to see where her next stop would lead her. Hopefully right back with the man who filled her dreams.
13
Except for a few stray benches and utility tables, the auto repair shop was abandoned. Metal, engine grease, and gasoline smells still lingered on some of the surfaces and old, rusted parts. All the locks had been broken. The windows had been busted out and cigarette butts and empty beer cans littered the floor. Deacon even caught sight of drug paraphernalia on the floor. Roy, the manager at the gas station, mentioned something about how teens would linger inside every now and then. He'd run them off if they were up to no good, but most of them were just looking for a place to hang out with their friends.
Seeing the place this way left him in an odd state of disappointment. When he bought the place at eighteen, this wasn't the vision he had. He had never planned to leave here without realizing his dream of being one of the best motorcycle and vehicle repair shops in the State.
The second level above the wait room and office looked the same. Beer cans, trash, and all kinds of things that Deacon preferred not to pick up with his bare hands littered the floor. The mess was evidence that he needed to decide on what to do with the place.
Roy had been trying to get Deacon to sell the place to him even before he left town. For whatever reason, Deacon couldn't bear to let the place go. Even now, he realized that the shop probably meant more to him than the farm he grew up on. Aside from a motorcycle that he'd bought from a junk yard on the day he got his driver's license, this building was among the first things that he'd ever owned and outright bought with his own money. Now he was standing here at a crossroads in the center of the shop.
If he took Luke's advice by restoring the place with plans of reopening the auto repair shop again, that would mean moving back to Aspen Valley—for good. If he sold the building and the land to Roy, he'd have enough funds to take back with him to Tunica and start up another auto repair shop of his own. Either way, Luke was right. Deacon wanted to get back to doing what he did best and what he enjoyed doing most. Sure he could try to buy another farm and live off the land, but he'd never had a green thumb like his grandmama. He could bring an engine back to life faster than he could revive a bed of wilted flowers.
This shouldn't have been a difficult decision. It was a no-brainer, but his mind kept going back to Monica. He wanted to get to
know her so badly. She had everything she needed here. She had family here, she had a career here, and she was respected by the people here. He didn't want to ruin that for her. He had no right to take her back to Tunica where he could claim her for himself and his wolf. Just like her dad, Deacon wanted her to have only what was best for her.
His wolf had other ideas—the wolf saw what was his and he craved. In the quest to claim a true mate, was it ever honorable to put a mate in a position to do something that wasn't in their best interests? He and Monica were like night and day. She was the daughter of a prominent doctor and he was the rogue without immediate goals. He lived by the day never knowing if tomorrow would bring more bad luck for him.
After getting all of Evan's frivolous charges against him dropped and being released from jail, Deacon's actions afterward told him what his intentions were. He'd given himself up to his wolf and retraced his route straight to Monica Collin's front door. Well…not exactly at her front door. But he made it to the cul-de-sac in front of the mansion where he could view the front courtyard. Her car wasn't there and after skirting the property for a while, there had been no signs of anyone in the house. His first instincts were that she'd gone to work that morning—except it was Saturday. Or maybe she had spent the night with the friend she'd come to LIVE with. Or maybe she'd reconciled issues with her coward-ass ex-boyfriend.
What was he thinking anyway…going to her home uninvited? He knew exactly why. He needed her. After a night spent in jail, he'd been at his lowest emotionally. His wolf's only instinct was to seek someone that seemed to genuinely care about him. It was no mystery that Monica had uprooted those feelings in his wolf.
After lingering for another half hour, her neighbors woke up and meandered out of their homes, and he decided he had to move out before he was caught and labeled a thief or trespasser. Accusations that would only land him back in jail. So he left, retrieved his motorcycle from the back of LIVE nightclub where he had parked it Saturday night, and returned to the rented bunkhouse in the mountains.
Rogue Wolf Page 5
