Deacon's Law (Heroes Book 3)

by RJ Scott

  “I love you too,” he murmured. “I’ll walk you to school.”

  One last kiss, and finally they couldn’t avoid leaving the apartment any longer.

  The colder night air hadn’t dissipated much, the bite of winter in the cool breeze that skipped along Main and channeled into the alley that held the entrance to the apartment. The school was a five minutes’ walk, ten when he added in getting coffee and a Danish for breakfast.

  Why break routine? He needed the stability of the things he usually did, or he’d be a basket case before he got to school.

  Johan had his order ready, but there was a delay when Deacon ordered his black coffee and selected his own Danish. Johan nodded and said he’d add that to the normal morning order.

  Deacon was his boyfriend, and Johan knew that. So did Anna, who was just going into the grocery store for formula, and several other regular town people who spoke to Rafe. Every time he stopped, Deacon was at his side, sipping his coffee, although the Danish was untouched so far.

  The town looked as normal now as it had done that day weeks ago when he’d been walking to school and a car had sped down Main and headed straight for him. The sense memory of the pain when it had hit him had him hesitating at the lights.

  “Okay?” Deacon asked.

  “The car, the one that hit me. I was remembering.”

  “What about it? Details?”

  “No, I don’t even recall the color of it – I just remember it hitting me. I never saw it, or heard it, or knew the driver, didn’t matter how much anyone asked. When I woke up in the hospital, all I could think was that I wasn’t feeling pain at all. The meds were good.” Rafe needed to lighten the explanation. “We don’t know for sure it was Felix; I mean, it could have been anyone, and him getting away from the place he was in was just a freaky coincidence.”

  “It was him,” Deacon said without hesitation. “I know that for sure.”

  And Rafe knew as well.

  The school was still the same. The large, sprawling building was home to a range of students, from the little ones to those about to go on to their senior high school years, the typical school that fed many small towns. Rafe loved teaching there, and that had been the most positive thing in his life since WitSec, or whatever he was part of, had decided he needed to be hidden away. Gone were the dreams of being a lawyer, but instead, he was a teacher of the littlest of the kids, and he loved every minute of it.

  The teacher’s lounge was usually split into three distinct groups of teachers and TAs. The primary school teachers in one corner, the junior high teachers in the other, and in the middle the ones who didn’t care and wanted to chat. Today was completely different. Everyone crowded around Rafe, shaking his hand, hugging him, his absence after the “accident” had been noticed and mourned over. He had to get used to being called Craig Jenkins again; he’d got used to being called Rafe by Deacon.

  This was like getting back into character, and it was hard, until abruptly he was feeling being Mr. Craig Jenkins, teacher, back from a sabbatical.

  “I had to cover the Apples,” muttered one of his fellow primary teachers, Oscar Ebson. The Apples were the five-year-olds, a group of fifteen precocious, adventurous, challenging, inquisitive kids. They were Rafe’s class, and he wanted them back. “Glad you’re here, Jenkins,” Oscar added, and held out his fist for a bump.

  “Good to be back,” Rafe answered, and bumped him back.

  The staff room cleared as teachers left for their lessons, and he refilled his coffee before heading for his classroom.

  His TA, a young girl called Melissa, was waiting at the door. “Welcome back Mr. J,” she said with a grin. “You ready for this?” She gestured to his leg, and he nodded ruefully. It wasn’t his leg he was worried about, but the pain in his side.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “They said they’d be super good for you today, but Billy has already made Michael cry once this morning because he’s started ballet lessons and Billy…” She didn’t need to say anymore. Billy came from a family that wasn’t known for its tolerance, and Michael was a kid who loved art and dancing. The two were either going to kill each other or become best friends. That was what Rafe loved most about the job; seeing the kids change in their first year in school, making it the best he could for them. Hopefully he’d show Michael that dancing and art were good things to love and be good at, and he’d show Billy that he didn’t have to be like his older brothers, all five of them, and to be tolerant of differences.

  I don’t ever want this to stop.

  He waited, his hand on the doorknob.

  “You okay, Mr. J?”

  Rafe nodded. “I’m fine,” he said out loud, not letting his doubts seep into his voice. “Let’s do this.”

  He opened the door, and fifteen kids crowded tight around him.

  “We did a poster!”

  “Why can’t we see your cast? Will you take your pants off?”

  “Why were you away so long?”

  “Did the car hurt when it hit you?”

  “My mum says you coulda died, Mr. Jenkins. Is that true?”

  He held a hand above his head, and one by the one the class fell silent. “Let’s go sit on the mat and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Well, almost everything, at least.

  Recess came and went. They’d covered most of the questions, apart from whether or not the car hitting him had hurt. He’d broken up a squabble over Lego, worked on the letter B, and accepted three apples from the kids.

  The rest of the morning was uneventful, lunch was quiet, and he saw no sign of Deacon. He wondered what he was doing with himself. Billy was now the one crying – turned out he didn’t want to go home – and Michael was the one hugging him, along with Louise, who hugged everyone all the time.

  He settled them in for the closing story, opening the giant copy of a brightly colored book featuring a boy and a bear and lots of water. A perennial favorite with all the kids.

  Fifteen minutes to end of the day and the kids were flagging, and he made a point of allowing some extra time for packing up their lunchboxes and bags. He always tried to get his class out of the school first so he had time for the parents, so they weren’t caught up with the older kids who messed everything up. Melissa was an awesome TA and had them all corralled at the door with ten minutes to spare.

  Today had been a good day. Being back here was exactly what he needed.

  When he walked out of the school, Deacon was waiting, and Rafe decided he could get used to it.

  Chapter 18

  It was always weird seeing the school at night. Empty of children, with the classrooms in darkness, it always made Rafe uneasy. He loved the school noise, the bright lights and colors, but the hall was the only place in town big enough for the town meeting. He’d missed the last one, but the minutes went from parking to lawns, and he didn’t think he’d missed much.

  Deacon had insisted on coming as well, and he’d clearly gone shopping somewhere, because he had a new shirt that stretched over each muscle. He’d caught the eye of quite a few of the ladies here tonight, but he was oblivious.

  The hall was cold as well, and everyone had to wear coats until the portable heaters kicked in; school cost-cutting meant the thermostat was turned down overnight. Rafe had taken Sam’s jacket and only when he pushed his hands into its pockets to warm them did he feel the black disc, the tracker.

  To think there had been a time he’d needed that little disc to reassure himself that he’d be okay.

  As usual, tables groaned with donated food, and soft drinks, and chatter that escalated in volume as each new person joined. Everyone wanted to talk to Rafe about the accident and wanted to know who Deacon was. Rafe was the one who suggested they’d met at the hospital, and everyone seemed happy with that explanation.

  Why wouldn’t they be? No one here knew about their connection. People were interested in Deacon only in that they assumed he was Rafe’s boyfriend. For a small town, the res
idents were welcoming, but he still wanted to be circumspect around the parents of the kids he taught. Cambridge Falls School was home to one hundred students pulled from all over the area, aged from five to Junior High. The rest of their education was handled by the large senior high school a few towns over. Everyone knew each other – things didn’t get done in this town without consensus, and this appeared to include Rafe’s accident. They were debating more stop lights, so Rafe found a chair at the back of the lounge and perched on its arm, Deacon next to him, standing, with his hands in his pockets.

  Anna came over, her youngest daughter in her arms. “Can you take her?” she asked Rafe, who held out his arms. He loved the little ones, and Chloe was only eleven months old. In a few years she’d be in his school and he’d be teaching her the alphabet and how to count to ten. He’d seen this baby born, or at least seen her when she was only a few days old, and had watched her blossom from cute-baby to aware-baby, to this point where she was normally desperately trying to escape everyone’s hold to crawl around. Only she was asleep now, and Rafe cradled her. He ran a finger softly down her face, right to the little birthmark on her shoulder, a star shape that meant her name had almost been Starlight, which hadn’t gone down too well with Anna’s husband. So, Chloe she had become.

  The meeting was long. There was consensus on another set of lights, and a warning to watch parking outside the school. Like that would have stopped the hit-and-run by an unknown assailant that had nearly taken Rafe out.

  Of course, the assailant was known, and all these people spread out in the hall were oblivious to everything. Rafe was friends with a lot of them, passing acquaintances with others, but every single person there was part of this town.

  “They need to know,” he murmured, and rocked Chloe.

  “No, they don’t,” Deacon said back.

  Looking down at the baby in his arms, all Rafe could think was that there was every reason to be honest about everything, but then he wouldn’t be Craig Jenkins anymore, he’d be Rafe again, and they would know he was related to the Martinez family. Deacon appeared to pick up on his discomfort, and pressed a hand to Rafe’s knee.

  “It’s okay,” he reassured him in a low tone.

  Rafe had to believe that was true, even as Chloe curled up and snuffled against his shirt. Any moment she would wake up, and this sweet interlude would be over.

  Anna came over and took Chloe from him. “Need to get this little one to bed,” she said quietly.

  Rafe was bereft when the baby had gone. Without the baby on his chest, he would probably have to mingle, to talk to the people who would ask him all the same questions about his leg, about how he was feeling.

  The meeting went on, this time focusing on Christmas and the lighting on Main, and was it possible to fundraise for more, and hey, did anyone have any ideas. By the time another hour had passed, Rafe’s leg was aching like a bitch.

  “I’m just going to walk this out and visit the bathroom,” he said, and tapped his leg.

  “I’ll come with,” Deacon said, and helped him to stand just as the sheriff wandered over their way.

  “I’m okay,” he murmured. “Give me five.”

  “Coffee?” Oscar said from the other side of Deacon.

  “I’ll come back for mine.”

  He made his way through the crowd of people with plates of food. He could answer the questions about the leg from the few friends in town he’d made – Sheila who owned the café, Johan whose dad owned the grocery store and had just retired, leaving Johan in charge. Ultimately, though, he wanted some air. He used the bathroom and limped back the way he’d come, bypassing someone standing with his back to him.

  “Hi,” he said in his friendliest tone, and then saw the baby. He didn’t have to see the birthmark to know that it was Chloe. He recognized her – the sleepsuit, the blanket, and there was blood. A lot of blood.

  Ice froze his heart, and he looked up at the man holding her.

  Right into the cold, dead eyes of Felix Martinez. One side of his face was a mess of burns, raw and bleeding, and he was hunched to one side, but he was holding Chloe and he looked determined.

  “You don’t want me to hurt the baby like I’m hurting the mom, right?” he said, his voice slurry, one side of his mouth split and twisted.

  “Felix—”

  “Best come with me, huh?”

  Felix headed for the door and pushed it open.

  “Gray Mazda at the back. Get in the driver’s seat.”

  Rafe was frozen in place. Felix was supposed to be dead, burned in a car. Should he go back out the door and shout for Deacon? What was happening here? Then Chloe whimpered and Rafe’s decision was easy.

  “Leave the baby here,” Rafe pleaded, watching as Felix looked down at Chloe and snarled at her.

  “I don’t wanna hurt a baby yet, but the mom? She’s all kinds of bloody in the trunk. Wanna see?”

  “Don’t…” Rafe didn’t know what to say, how to stop this. He needed Deacon. Where was Deacon? How the hell had he even got into the school? “They’ll know you’re here,” he said.

  “Then who’s stopping me? ’Cause I don’t see anyone armed and heading my way.” He popped the trunk, and to Rafe’s horror he saw Anna, unconscious, tied up in there.

  “Get in the fucking car.” When Rafe hesitated, Felix lifted Chloe above his head and grimaced. “Want me to hurt this little thing?”

  “Felix, Jesus.”

  Rafe didn’t know what to do. Did he get in the car, where the baby would be out of his reach, or did he try to wrestle the baby away from Felix? Was Anna even alive? Felix slammed the trunk closed before Rafe could focus on checking her breathing.

  “Get. In. The. Car.”

  He still hadn’t lowered Chloe, and Rafe began to do as he was told, relief running through him as Felix laid the baby on the back seat. This was his moment – grab Chloe and run. Or in his case hobble; at least Chloe and the baby would get away.

  “I will kill you here and now.” Rafe froze at the gun pointing at him. “And then I’ll finish this baby’s momma, and then maybe I’ll leave the baby right next to her bleeding corpse, what do you say?”

  “If I go with you, you’ll let Anna and her baby go?”

  “You have my word,” Felix said, then snorted a laugh. “You got no fucking room to negotiate.”

  He sat in the passenger seat, pulling on his belt. Chloe was lying loose on the back seat, so there was no way that Rafe could crash the car; there was nothing he could do. He started the engine, hoping to God Deacon would appear.

  Nothing.

  They were on the main road out of town, no roadblock, nothing. His leg hurt like a bitch and it was difficult to drive, but he was managing it. The streets were empty this time of night, and not a single law enforcement officer anywhere.

  They drove for twenty minutes, out of town and up the windy roads to the base of the mountain, the clock ticking away the seconds, and Chloe woke up and was sobbing in the back, with Felix growing more agitated.

  “Jesus, fucking baby. Pull over,” Felix ordered, waving the gun in Rafe’s face.

  “Fuck, no, don’t hurt her – I can get her to stop crying.”

  Chloe was screaming now. “Stop. The. Car.”

  Rafe did as he was told. He wasn’t belted in – he’d put himself between a bullet and baby Chloe if he had to.

  “Get her out of the car.” Rafe reached to pick up Chloe, and Felix shoved him toward the trunk. “Her, for fuck’s sake.”

  Rafe pushed through the pain and opened the trunk and got Anna out as quickly as he could, thankful he could still hear Chloe sobbing in the car. At least that meant she was still alive, even if she was distressed.

  “Lie her down over there.”

  Rafe stared into the darkness. They were in the middle of nowhere, not on a main highway, it was cold, and they were abandoning Anna?

  “She’ll die,” Rafe said.

  “You think?” Felix laughed again, and shov
ed him and Anna away from the car. “Over there,” he said with a wave of the gun.

  Rafe placed Anna carefully on the ground, hoping the rocks she lay against would be enough shelter. She was breathing, although the blood on her face was sticky to touch.

  “Get the fucking baby,” Felix snapped, and Rafe hurriedly returned and gripped Chloe close. “Take her to her momma.” He gestured with the gun, and Rafe went straight to where Anna lay.

  “Please Felix, don’t hurt them. You have me…”

  Felix ignored him. “Put the brat with her momma.”

  “It’s too cold. She’ll die.”

  “Gonna die anyway. Leave her.”

  Rafe fell awkwardly to one knee next to Anna. “Wake up, Anna, please.” He had no phone, nothing to leave with them, and they were in the middle of nowhere. He placed Chloe next to her mom, in her mom’s arms, and inspiration hit him. He was going to die, but there was no way he was leaving the girls to die as well.

  “Craig?” Anna whispered, her focus bleary.

  Rafe shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped Chloe in it, snuggling her back with her mom. The tracker would lead Deacon here, to Anna and the baby, and they would be safe.

  “Thank you,” Anna said, her voice stronger.

  “Stay alive,” Rafe said back. “Tell Deacon…”

  “Craig?”

  “Tell him I’m sorry.”

  “Get the fuck over here,” Felix snapped from behind them.

  Careful to keep himself between the gun and the little family, he walked back to the car, waiting until they were both ready to get back in. If anything happened to Anna or Chloe, it would kill him. He wasn’t going to let anyone else die for him.

  They drove for another few minutes, and Rafe honestly had no idea where they were going. They’d moved between the mountains, taken a side road, and ended up at a shack. That was all it was – a broken-down shack – but it was obviously where Felix had been staying. There was a camping stove, and a sleeping bag, and chains. A lot of chains.

  And bodies. He counted three, laid in a precise line.