Deacon Johns Page 16
“Soldier for hire?” Deacon gave a snort of disgust. “I’ve met a few of those. Half of ’em aren’t worth their salt.”
“And half of them are.” Wiley chuckled. “Lighten up, old man. Life is too damn short to take it all so seriously.”
“And too damn important not to take it seriously at all.”
“Touché. And I might have learned that lesson. I’m thinking of giving it up, settling down, and opening a flight school.”
“That’s a surprise.”
“Ain’t it just?”
They both looked out into the darkness at the same moment. A second later, Mathias appeared. “Commander?”
“Hey, Mathias. You get all that paperwork taken care of?”
“Yes, sir.”
Deacon looked at Wiley. “Mathias decided to sign on as an instructor for the new center and I’m glad he did.”
“Me too,” Mathias replied. “But that’s not why I’m here, sir.”
“Well, what can I do for you, son?”
“I don’t know. Doc just said for me to come tell you to go with me to meet her at her house.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fine.” Deacon got to his feet and looked at Wiley. “You going to hang around?”
“Naw, I think I’ll hit the road, but I’ll be in town for another few days so I’ll catch you later.”
“Sounds good.” Deacon then looked at Mathias. “Okay, let’s go see what Etta wants.”
They walked along in the fading light in silence for a bit. When Matty spoke, his voice sounded every bit as sad as Deacon felt. “Do you still think we were wrong not to fight for her?”
“Yes and no. God knows I wanted to and part of me is pissed that I didn’t, but I knew it was a fight we couldn’t win.” Deacon almost despised himself for speaking the words. Not that they weren’t true, but he hated any situation that was beyond his control and surrendering to anything was a bitter pill. Particularly this surrender.
“Yet you’re still upset.”
“I am. I guess I feel like we still should have tried.”
Funny, but it made Deacon feel better to say that. Maybe because he would have felt better if he’d fought and had to be dragged away from her instead of walking away. How much had that hurt her, to see the people she loved turn their backs and walk away?
There was no more conversation. When they reached Etta’s house, the lights on the front porch were on. Deacon tapped on the door. It wasn’t long before Etta opened the door.
“Come in.”
“Mathias said you wanted to talk to us?”
“Actually, there’s something I wanted to read to you.”
“Read to us?”
“Yes, please.” She gestured to the dining room table. “Let’s sit.”
Once they were seated, she picked up an envelope from the table. “This is from Mica.”
“Mica?” Deacon asked. “Where is—”
“Hold on,” Etta interrupted. “Let me read this to you like she asked.”
She took a page from the envelope and unfolded it.
Dear Matty and Deacon,
A month ago I thought this nightmare was coming to an end. Now, I go to sleep wondering if I am ever going to leave this place.
I won’t serve any time for killing that man who was going to shoot Nellie Mae. I guess it would be fitting if I did. Now that I’ve had time to move beyond the immediacy of it, I realize that I’m no better than the man I killed. I mean, I killed him without ever considering my actions. I don’t even remember throwing the knife, to be honest, but I did. And I took a life. What kind of person does that make me?
I don’t know, but it can’t be good for my soul and I don’t quite know what to do to make recompense for that. But that’s not why I am writing this. I’ve told the Justice Department everything I know and I do mean everything. About Tony, Jimmy, and all my clients.
A lot of people are going to end up in jail because of this and maybe it’s a good thing. Most of them deserve it. I didn’t do it to save my own skin. I did it because I learned something from the two of you. You have to be prepared to do what’s right. Even if it means walking away. I understand that now.
The first couple of weeks all I could see or feel was that you’d turned your back on me. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see it and my heart felt like it was going to just stop out of sheer misery. You turned your backs on me.
I know that’s not true. I was just so scared and alone.
I’m not scared anymore. Finally, I’m not scared.
I love you, Mica
Etta put the letter down on the table and clasped her hands together. “That letter was written a week ago. Today, everything was finally set right.”
“What does that mean?” Matty asked.
“What I can tell you is that according to the Justice Department, Cipriana Julliani did not die in the attack that took the life of her husband and four of his men. She survived and turned state’s evidence. Thanks to her testimony, not only will the heads of two crime syndicates be spending the rest of their lives in prison, but their organizations are in shambles.
“Additionally, there will soon be a lot of political changes taking place as people are either indicted or cut deals to stay out of prison.”
“So she took them all down?” Mathias asked.
“She did.”
“And what happens to her?”
“Cipriana pled guilty to conspiracy and several other charges and was transferred to a women’s prison to await trial, where she was murdered by inmates.”
Deacon felt like he was going to pass out. “Are you telling us…”
“That Cipriana is dead. But before she died, she was able to transfer thirteen million dollars that was in her name, in equal parts to Mathias Gray Horse and Deacon Johns.
“Now, no one will ever be looking for her again. Anyone who knew the connection between Cipriana and Mica is dead. Vitale never told his father, and since he is deceased there’s no one left who knows the truth.
“You’re both rich men and it has all been put to rest.”
“I don’t want her money,” Deacon protested.
“Well, I guess it was important to her for you to have it.”
Deacon stood and shoved his chair under the table. “The last thing I want is her money. Good night.”
Etta and Mathias watched him leave, then looked at one another. “Can I ask you something?” Etta said,
“Yes.”
“Can you feel her? The essence of her, I mean. I know you and she both have some kind of abilities, and once she told me she always knew when you were in trouble or scared or okay because she felt it. Can you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She’s alive.”
“And?”
“She’s been trying to get it together. You don’t know us, Doc. We came from a different world. Mica has been responsible since she was five. For herself. For me. Everything she’d ever done is to make sure I’m provided for. She loves me more than she loves herself.
“Now she loves Deacon more than she loves herself too, and it’s hard for her because she has a hard time forgiving herself for things she’d gladly forgive me or him for.”
“So, you’re not worried about her?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And if you feel she really is in danger?”
“Then I’ll fight for her.”
Etta nodded. “Thanks, Mathias.”
“Sure, Doc. Have a good night.”
“You too. You sure you’re okay in the apartment above the barn?”
“I am.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Etta watched him leave, then sat there staring out of the window. Things were about to change for Mathias and Deacon. She just hoped it was for the better because they had both been pretty miserable for a good while.
*****<
br />
Four days. It’d been four days since Etta gave them the news about Mica. So where in hell was she? He was going crazy waiting and worrying. Deacon couldn’t sleep and damn sure didn’t want to dream again. Many more of those memories that came back to him in his dreams and he’d be ready to say to hell with it and eat a bullet.
He went outside and sat down in the swing, leaned back, and rocked lazily, watching a cloud slide over the moon.
“Hello, Commander.”
Deacon bounded to his feet. Had he fallen asleep and just dreamed he heard her voice? Then he saw her. She walked up the steps, her feet bare and wet from the dew.
“Are you really here?”
“I am.”
“Mica.” Three steps and he had her in his arms. “I’m sorry we didn’t fight for you.”
“There was no one to fight, Deacon,” she said against his chest as she clung to him. “I know that. At least I do now. Before I was just scared.”
She pulled back to look up at him. “Scared that once you walked away it would be easier to forget me than wait for me.”
“That would never happen.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I don’t want your money, Mica.”
“Then give it away. I don’t care what you do with it. Although maybe I should have hung onto some of it. Matty sold the house and smithy.”
“He bought some land on the other side of the lake. Said he wants to build a place.”
She smiled. “Then that’s exactly what he should do, and it sounds wonderful. But there’s still the little matter of me being homeless. I’m not quite sure where to go.”
“Nowhere.”
“Well, I kind of have to, Deacon. I need a place to live.”
“You have one. Here. With me.”
Mica smiled. “Is that an offer or an order, Commander?”
“Which works?”
She laughed and for the first time in weeks, his heart felt light again. “You had me at hello, Deacon.”
“So, you’ll stay?”
Mica gestured to the swing. “Can we?”
“Sure.” He sat and she climbed onto his lap.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Always.”
She nodded and for a few moments, she was quiet. When she did speak, her voice sounded tired and he wondered just what she’d been put through this last month.
“How you do find peace after taking a life, Deacon? I don’t know how to do it.”
“You killed to save, Mica. There’s no dishonor in that. Mrs. Baker told everyone what happened. You saved her life.”
“And I ended another.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Does that make me a monster?”
“Does it make me or Mathias monsters? What we did that day at the airfield. I put a bullet in that bastard’s head with clear and calculated intent, Mica. And I’d do it again without blinking.”
“You only did it to save me.”
“Exactly. Just like you acted to save Nellie Mae. A woman who cares a lot about you is alive because of you.”
Mica nodded and stared up at the moon. “I’m glad she’s alive. I love that little old lady. I know people think she’s just an old gossip, but she’s more, Deacon. A lot more. Just like you.”
“Oh?”
“Oh my God, yes.” She sighed and kissed him softly. “That day, I looked out of that window and saw you and I knew I wasn’t going to die. My hero had arrived.”
“Make that plural. Mathias was there as well, and Wiley.”
“Yes, he was. Matty came for me. He was willing to risk his life for me. My little brother, the one person who had always held my heart. I don’t know Wiley, so I only thought of him as someone who was with you. And that was what mattered.
“You were there. My own personal hero, the man I love. I knew you’d save me because you are my hero. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and feared I would never find. You claimed my heart and it will never be mine again. I love you, Deacon. With all my heart.”
Deacon took her face in his hand. “I didn’t plan on falling in love, you know that. Particularly with someone your age. But you—you had me with one look. And I’ll love you with every breath I take, Mica and beyond, if that’s allowed.”
“Oh my God, do you realize that you just seduced me with words? Words, Deacon.”
“Miracles abound,” he said as he stood, lifting her in his arms.
“Where are we going?”
“To bed. I have a few more words I’ve been saving for when you came home.”
“Home.” The word sounded like an invocation. “You’re my home, Deacon.”
“And you’re mine.”
Even as he said the words, he realized it wasn’t simply lip service. He’d never allowed himself to wish for someone like her, someone that made him feel excited about life again and someone for whom he’d gladly die, but she was that and more.
At long last, he’d found his heart in which to call home.
AN EXCERPT
Copyright 2017, Ciana Stone
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone
Cover by Syneca Featherstone
All rights reserved.
Brodie Judge
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Brodie Judge Copyright © 2018 Ciana Stone
Cover art by Syneca
Edited by Mary Harris
Electronic book publication May 24, 2018
Print book publication May 14, 2018
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Syneca Featherstone
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication:
For my honeyman – You know it’s true. I do, I do.
It’s a happy little town. People smile and greet one another when they meet on the sidewalk or in the park. They wave to one another as their vehicles pass and the chatter in the local diner, bakery and restaurants is always flavored with laughter.
You’d like it here and would fit right in. I can see it in my mind, the way you’d charm the people, that infectious smile that never failed to elicit one in return. You’d stop and chat on the sidewalk, offer to help some elderly women get her shopping bags into her car, or open a shop door for someone.
Children who saw you at the park would call you name, pull you into their games and you’d laugh in delight at their innocence and vitality. The mothers would smile and talk in low voices about how kind and handsome you are and how lucky your wife is to have such a wonderful man, and they would be right.
In the evenings, you’d drape your arm over my shoulder as we sat on the porch and watched the sun sink into the horizon and your kiss would be as sweet and as welcome as the first.
Yes, it’s the perfect little town, the one we always made up stories about and promised one another that one day we’d live in such a place. One day just never came, did it?
Tonya, a pretty browned haired server in her early twenties, stopped at the two-seat table by the window. “Freshen your coffee, ma’am?”
“Hmm.” The woman seated at the table nodded without looking at Tonya. Instead she glanced at the scene outside of the diner window and then turned her attention back to the notebook on the table in front of her.
Tonya poured the coffee and the woman glanced up. “Thank you.” Her voice was so soft it was almost intelligible in the noise of the diner.
“You’re welcome.” Tonya returned the smile the woman offered, though hardly as timid and moved on to her next table, one where Cody Sweet-Riggs, her sister, Hannah Sweet-Weathers and Jolene Weathers were having breakfast.
“Y’all want refills?” Tonya asked.
“I do.” Cody answered then lowered her voice. “Is that the woman who moved into the Broom’s old house down past the livery on Steeple Street?”
“It is,” Tonya replied. “She been coming in for coffee almost every morning for the last two months. Ever since she moved here, I think. If that two-top by the window is full then she leaves, but if it’s available, she has two slices of toast with coffee and sits there, looking out of the window and drawing or writing in her notebook.”
“What’s her story?” Hannah asked. “Does anyone even know her name?”
“Beats me.” Tonya cut a quick look around before continuing. “But she’s the most untalkative person I’ve ever met. She says toast and coffee please, thank you and goodbye and that’s it. I mean look at her, she avoids making eye contact and if she thinks someone is going to speak to her, she quickly looks down.”
“Well, where does she come from?” Hannah asked. “And has anyone had any interaction with her at all?”
“Oh, no clue.” Tonya looked around as she heard her name being called. “Oops, order up, gotta scoot.”
Once she left, Jolene, who had been diddling on her phone, spoke up. “I didn’t want to say anything with Tonya here, but I think I know that woman.” She turned her phone so the others could see.
“That’s her, all right.” Cody said. “So, what’s the scoop? Have you met her before she moved here?”