The Darkest Corner

by Liliana Hart

  “You’re a good friend,” Tess said, wiping her cheeks.

  “Damn straight I am. You’re gorgeous. And I say that with no bias whatsoever. Your looks are just a little more subtle than some women’s. You’ve got that wholesome, girl-next-door thing going. Like those Ralph Lauren models. Men like that.”

  “Which men?”

  “Well, the sheriff for one. I heard at the grocery store and while I was filling up the tank that Cal has been all over you like white on rice.”

  “Yeah, that was a little weird,” Tess said. “Surprised the hell out of me. He didn’t seem too brokenhearted about the rejection though.”

  “I wouldn’t think so. He’s been banging Mandy Simmons for the last few weeks, but she’s been yapping about marriage to anyone who will listen, so my guess is he’s ready to move on. Probably a good call on turning him down.”

  “Thank you,” Tess said. “Not to mention that I’m not the least bit attracted to him.”

  “But you are attracted to someone. You always get that dopey look in your eyes when you’ve got the hots for someone, and I could tell you were thinking about him earlier when I mentioned the guy in a tool belt.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I do not get a dopey look on my face.”

  Miller rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say. But take my advice, don’t ever play poker. Now, tell me which one you’ve got your eye on. If it’s Elias, I’d pretend to play the martyr and let you sleep with him, but I’d probably hate you forever. And then I’d immortalize you in a book and probably kill you off somewhere along the way.”

  “I appreciate your non-sacrifice,” Tess said dryly. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to sleep with any of them. I’m moving. Remember?”

  “That’s why it’s so perfect,” Miller said excitedly. “It’s like one last hurrah before you go.”

  “I don’t just sleep with men for hurrahs, no matter how great they might be at hurrah-ing.”

  “Okay, okay,” Miller said, holding up her hands in surrender. “It’s part of that girl-next-door thing I guess. You’ve always been that way. I’m not even sure you’ve ever had a real orgasm before. I worry about your sex life.”

  “Very comforting to know. And I have too had a real orgasm before,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Just never with an actual man.”

  Miller’s mouth dropped open and a piece of cookie fell out. “Remind me to send Henry’s Tammy a card with my condolences. I’ll send it with flowers to his office since she’s a hygienist there. Poor thing probably spends all day sitting on one of those electric toothbrushes.”

  Tess snorted out a laugh. “She certainly has my sympathies. But sex with Henry was one of the most productive six minutes I had every Tuesday and Friday.”

  “Your sex schedule was the same as trash pickup?” Miller asked drolly.

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t too bad. It was just enough time to figure out what was for dinner the next night and to mentally pick out my clothes for the next morning. And having it on such an exact schedule was pretty nice. Foreplay always lasted from eight twenty-five to eight thirty, and then we wrapped up the grand finale by eight thirty-six. Henry spent the next twenty-four minutes checking his work emails before lights out at nine o’clock, while I adjourned for a twenty-four-minute shower that involved that Christmas gift you got me in 2004.”

  “Geez, I don’t actually think you’re supposed to keep them that long. Seems like it might short-circuit or be a fire hazard at this point. I’ll get you a new one for this Christmas.”

  Miller pulled out her phone and made a note, seemingly satisfied with herself. Tess stifled a laugh. This was classic Miller. She was one of those people who ordered gifts all through the year and put them in a closet somewhere so she’d be prepared, because she almost always had a deadline right before Christmas and didn’t have time to think about the holidays.

  “Don’t think I’m going to let you ignore my question,” she said, putting her phone down. “Which one is he?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Deacon was never quite sure what day of the week it was. When you tended to work all seven, the days didn’t seem to matter all that much. There were no such things as weekends. Downtime came when it came, whether it was a Tuesday or a Saturday.

  The sheriff had come by to check out the van, but he hadn’t found anything. The Shadow could always be trusted to cover tracks completely, and this time was no exception. Deacon could tell the sheriff was annoyed not to have found any trace of mud or the bullet hole the perps had spoken of, but there was nothing there for him to find. Which was fine by him. The farther away the sheriff stayed, the better. He didn’t like the way Cal looked at Tess, as if he were thinking about trying her on for size.

  The only reason he did know that it was Saturday was because Tess had had the funeral to see to, and it was Axel and Elias who’d been up for the burial rotation. He’d watched them leave the house in the Suburban and the newly repaired transport van that morning.

  After the funeral, Deacon, Elias, and Dante finished a solid workout in the gym. When they’d finished, they took quick showers in the locker room and coded themselves into HQ. They heard Colin laughing the moment the door popped open with a tiny click, and when they entered the room they found him working at one of the computer stations, but he had the volume turned high for the cameras inside the house.

  “What are you doing?” Deacon asked, instantly recognizing Tess’s voice.

  “Tess is baking cookies,” Colin said. “The smoke alarm just went off. I think she caught the oven on fire.”

  “How does she keep doing that?” Deacon asked, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a seat at one of the workstations.

  “Hey, that’s Miller,” Elias said, very interested all of a sudden. “You shouldn’t be listening to their personal conversation.”

  “That Elias guy is an interesting character. He’d make a fabulous hero for one of my books. He’s sexy and funny . . .”

  “You were saying?” Colin asked as Elias turned up the volume a little.

  “Quiet,” Elias hissed. “I’m trying to listen.”

  “That’s wrong,” Deacon said. “She would kick your ass all over the place if she found out you were doing this.”

  “I don’t see you putting in earplugs,” he shot back. “Maybe because you want to see if Tess thinks you’re as spectacular in bed as Miller thinks I am. Lord, that woman is a temptation no man could resist.”

  “She’s managed to resist you for months,” Dante said.

  “That’s because I haven’t tried. It’s hard to resist all this charm when it’s coming at you full force.”

  “Just like every other cocky SEAL I’ve ever met,” Colin said. “Care to put a wager on it?”

  Deacon rolled his eyes, and then caught Tess’s words—“Just never with an actual man.”

  “Holy shit,” Deacon said, leaning forward.

  “Poor girl,” Dante said sympathetically. “Maybe we should find this Henry and make sure he has a bit of an accident.”

  “This place could use a little excitement,” Colin said. “I’m in.”

  Deacon wasn’t sure what he was doing, but the direction of the conversation had him racing out of the room and up the other set of stairs that led to the casket warehouse. He didn’t want the others hearing whatever Tess was about to say. He pressed his thumb to the keypad and the door that led into the casket warehouse swung open.

  He’d spent most of the day away from her, determined to give her some space and put some distance between them, hoping she’d be thinking of him like he’d been thinking of her. But knowing that a man had never pleased her as she should’ve been pleased made him angry and unreasonably possessive all at once.

  He knocked once on the kitchen door and then stepped inside without an invitation. Both women stared at him in surprise. They were sitting in the same position they had been in when he’d been watching on the screen, but up close he noticed th
e flush in Tess’s cheeks.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said to Tess. “It’s really important. Come riding with me.”

  “You’re not extending the length of my bathroom renovation, are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “You said four weeks.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with timelines. You’re getting a new bathroom out of it.”

  “Timelines are essential to life. And so are showers. I want my space back.”

  “Speaking of, we should probably fix the floor of your bedroom before your bed falls through. Might as well do all the renovations at once.”

  “Except I won’t have a place to sleep.”

  “There’s always slumber room number one,” he said, lips twitching.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Miller said. “But what the hell is going on here? I feel like a third wheel. Should I leave y’all alone?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “No,” she said at the same time.

  Miller turned to look at Tess with a twinkle in her eye. “Never mind my earlier question. I think I have it figured out.”

  “We’re having girls’ night,” Tess said to Deacon. “Thank you for the suit, by the way. It was very nice.”

  “Did it fit?” he asked.

  “Perfectly.”

  He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m an excellent measurement taker.”

  Tess turned crimson.

  “Hello.” Miller turned to Tess inquiringly. “You left a lot of information out just now.”

  “I was getting to it,” Tess growled.

  He turned his attention to Miller. “I need to talk to Tess. It’s important.”

  “If it’s so important, why didn’t you come earlier instead of going to the gym for a workout? You’ve been wasting all this time.”

  “Because we didn’t want to deny you the opportunity to use your binoculars.”

  Tess snorted out a laugh and Miller pinched her lips together. “You left the blinds open.”

  “That’s a Peeping Tom’s favorite excuse,” he said.

  Tess laughed even harder at that and tears rolled down her cheeks. “That’s what I said too.”

  “Remember what’s in the emergency supply pack,” Miller said, looking pointedly at Tess. “Maybe take it with you. Just in case. Though I think that box has been in the bag four years now. I’m not sure what the shelf life is.”

  “Hush,” Tess hissed.

  Deacon was pretty sure he was getting the gist of the conversation. “What’s in the emergency supply pack?” he asked. “I thought we’d take the bike out for a ride. Bring it with you.”

  Miller broke into hysterical giggles, and Tess groaned.

  “Y’all should go,” Miller said. “I just remembered I have some errands to do.”

  “You just remembered?” Tess said. “How very convenient. You never do errands on the weekend because of the crowds.” Then she turned to Deacon. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

  “You’ll love it. Nothing makes you feel freer than riding the open road.”

  She pushed her wineglass back, though it was half-full. “If I go with you, I’d like some explanations please.”

  “You’ll get them,” he promised. “As much as I can.”

  “This is super-awkward,” Miller said. “I’m going to go now.” Miller stood and started gathering dishes. She tossed the cookies into the trash and rinsed the wineglasses in the sink.

  “Can you cook?” she asked Deacon.

  “Yes. But mostly out of necessity.”

  She nodded. “That’ll be good enough. I approve.”

  Tess sputtered. “You approve what? My life is not your next romance novel.”

  “This is what I like to call backstory,” Miller said. “This is the part of your life where you do something wild and crazy and have the best sex of your life. This is the part of the story that has to happen so you can learn from your experiences and find your true happily ever after.”

  “She gets philosophical after a couple of glasses of wine,” Tess said apologetically.

  His lips twitched. “I’m okay with it. I like this story. Best sex of your life?” he asked, brows raised.

  “Hmm . . .” Tess said for lack of anything better. “Maybe we should talk about my bathroom. It seems like safer ground.”

  “You’d think that,” he said, “but I wouldn’t bet money on it.”

  “Y’all stop talking about bathrooms and go have fun. Don’t forget the emergency supply pack,” Miller said, dropping it in Tess’s lap. “My work here is done. Call me tomorrow if you’re free. Just don’t call before noon, because it’s my morning to sleep late.”

  “It’s always your morning to sleep late,” Tess said. “Do you even know what before noon looks like?”

  “Sure,” Miller said. “I see it around six a.m. when I’m heading to bed.” She grabbed her purse and blew Tess a kiss.

  “Hold on, cowboy,” Deacon said, stopping her in her tracks. “You’ve had about one glass of wine too many to drive home.”

  “I live three blocks from here,” she said.

  “Most accidents happen less than a mile from a person’s home.”

  “You made that up,” she said, hands on hips.

  “I never make things up,” he retorted.

  “Well, I make up stuff for a living, so I can recognize a good bullshitter a mile away. But I’m happy to leave my car here and walk home since the rain has stopped. When Tess and I move to the city, we’ll never have to worry about having too much wine because we can just take the train wherever we want to go.”

  “Are you moving with me?” Tess asked.

  “I just decided. Is that okay?” Miller asked. “I don’t want to live with you though. I’ll get my own place. Maybe next door. You know I don’t like living with other people.”

  Deacon was starting to think maybe Miller had had more than two glasses of wine. She hadn’t stopped talking since he walked in the door.

  “No need to walk,” he said. “Just a second.”

  He pulled out his cell and dialed Elias. Since he knew he’d been watching the cameras, Deacon didn’t have to explain what he needed, but he did it anyway.

  “I need a favor,” he said.

  “I can see that,” Elias said. “I’m happy to take her off your hands. What the hell is in that emergency bag? I can’t decide if she terrifies me or if I’m turned on.”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that,” Deacon said. “Can you give Miller a ride? I think she lives near your place.”

  “This day is getting better by the minute,” Elias said. “I’ll be right there.”

  Elias knocked on the kitchen door a minute later and opened it without being invited in. “Looks like I missed the party,” he said, winking at Miller. “What do I have to do to get an invitation next time?”

  “Have a vagina,” Miller said deadpan.

  Tess burst into laughter and said, “She’s an acquired taste.”

  “My favorite,” Elias said. “What do you say? Want to hit the open road and see where it takes us?”

  Miller arched an eyebrow and said, “As long as it takes us to my front door.”

  “And I thought you were the one who liked to take chances.”

  “I’m letting you take me home,” she said. “That seems like a pretty big chance to me.”

  Elias arched a brow and moved in closer. “How’s that?” he asked.

  “If I have to explain it to you then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were.” Miller gave Tess a hug and tossed her keys to Elias. “Looks like I’ll be eating ice cream and watching movies tonight. Don’t forget to call me tomorrow. And for Pete’s sake don’t forget the emergency pack.”

  “I really want to know what’s in that emergency bag,” Deacon said as Miller and Elias left.

  Tess just smiled, two streaks of color painting her cheeks. “Hmm. I’m at a loss for words so it seems like a good time t
o change the subject. Did I tell you I’m thinking of getting a motorcycle when I move to the city? I hear they get great gas mileage.”

  Deacon stared at her blankly for a moment. The thought of her decked out in leather, straddling a bike, made him go temporarily mute.

  “Do you have leather pants?” he asked.

  “No, should I get some?”

  “It’s essential,” he said stoically.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tess was afraid she could get used to living on the wild side.

  She’d always made it a point to be extra-responsible and make good decisions. But within three days of being in Deacon’s company, she wanted to do what she wanted and say to hell with everyone else. Deacon was a bad influence on her. And she liked it.

  Common sense had her running upstairs to put on a pair of jeans, an army-green tank top, and a pair of cowboy boots she never got to wear because it was usually too hot. She braided her hair down the side and put on the extra helmet he’d given her. Everyone in town was going to be watching them. And those who weren’t watching would hear about it and start talking.

  Tess didn’t know squat about motorcycles, but she pictured herself on something small and bright red. Something fun and zippy and cute. Deacon’s motorcycle wasn’t cute. It was black and chrome and looked like it belonged in the middle of a pack of Hell’s Angels.

  There was something very primal about watching a man straddle a motorcycle. The way his jeans conformed to his muscular thighs and the way his biceps strained beneath the tight sleeves of his T-shirt as he revved the engine. And when he started the engine and it rumbled to life, she shuddered at the pure unadulterated sexiness of it all.

  She listened to his instructions as he told her where to step and put her feet. If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d have realized ahead of time how intimate it was going to be to sit behind him.

  “Relax,” he said over the roar of the engine. “Put your hands at my waist, and lean into the turns with me.”