She’s beautiful in a tight navy tee and jeans that hug her cute little ass. Her curls are in a low ponytail over one shoulder, and when our eyes meet, I can’t help smiling. She blinks away fast, and my smile fades.
“Hello, Angela.” Winnie’s voice is formal. “This is my nephew Deacon. Deacon, this is the young woman I was telling you about.”
Angel’s family might hate me, but Winnie has no power over my decisions. I’m about to set things straight when Angel reaches forward quickly and shakes my hand.
“How do you do, Mr. Clarke?” She gives me a pointed look, and I stop.
“Deacon’s last name is Dring. He’s my late brother’s son.”
“My mistake.” Angel blinks away to my aunt. “I won’t be late tonight. I’d like to be home by ten-thirty.”
“Of course. You’ve been working very hard.” Winnie speaks to her like she’s the maid, and I don’t like it. “I was just telling Deacon what a wonderful job you’re doing. I think he agrees with me… Deacon? What’s wrong, darling?”
My eyes are on Angel avoiding my gaze, and I shake my head, returning to my aunt. “I have to go.” Leaning forward, I kiss Winnie’s cheek then turn to my girl. “Nice meeting you, Angela.”
Angel does a brief nod before heading into the room where she works.
We’re not doing this.
I’m not backing down from being together because things have gotten twisted.
Still, I’ll wait.
She’ll be home at ten thirty, and I’ll be ready for her explanation.
The backyard lights stream through the open window of Angel’s bedroom. I left my bike in the same place across the street as last week, and I’m sitting in the shadows waiting for her to walk through the door.
Before coming here, I rode through the night out to the tower where we used to meet. I thought about the story of the man who shot his wife and her lover here. As a child, I thought such stories were made up to scare us or to make places seem more interesting.
Now I’m not so sure.
Taking a slight detour, I rode out across my grandfather’s land, or the start of it. Our family owns hundreds of miles of forest and grasslands in northeast Texas, leading up to Oklahoma. Was it always ours?
Straddling my bike, I sat at the top of a small hill overlooking the property and shot a quick text to Richland. Need you to help me research the ownership history of some land.
He didn’t take long to reply. In El Paso for another week, but I’ll see what I can do. What land?
Mine.
The metallic taste of rain was on my tongue as I sped back towards Lakeside Estates. Now, sitting in Angel’s empty room, I listen to the thunder rolling in, making the night even darker. How will she get home? Does she ride the bus at this hour? Anger is rising in my chest when I feel my phone vibrate again.
Sounds like a story. It’s Rich.
You have no idea. I hit send just as her door cracks open, and the light from the hall filters into the room.
She doesn’t enter, standing in the doorway looking at me sitting in the beige wingback chair across from her.
“You’re here.” Her voice is soft.
Mine is hard. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
We study each other a moment before she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her. “Are you mad at me?”
“I haven’t decided.” My foot is crossed over my knee and thunder rolls low in the sky. “Why did you pretend like you didn’t know me?”
She closes the distance between us, dropping to her knees. I uncross my legs allowing her to scoot between them.
“I panicked.” Her hands slide up my thighs, and she looks up at me. “I didn’t want you to get me fired. I really want this job.”
“I wouldn’t let her fire you.”
“Maybe… but she won’t like us together.”
“I don’t care.”
“But I do… I’ve done so much work. It’s my art, Deacon.” Her voice is soft, eyes round. “Please.”
Her thumbs make small circles against my inner thighs, and it’s melting my annoyance.
I place my forearms on my knees, threading my fingers in her hair. “You won her over with your talent. That portrait is amazing.”
Her cute little nose wrinkles. “She criticizes me nonstop.”
“She bragged about you all through dinner… The brilliant young artist she discovered.”
That makes her laugh. “Thanks.”
“If I’d known it was you, I could’ve agreed… You’re so talented.”
Lifting her hands, she places them over mine. “Let me finish before we blow it all up. I want this for my portfolio, for the Arthaus application.”
I don’t like it, but I can’t make her sad. “Okay.”
Rising onto her knees, she kisses me. Our lips part, tongues sliding together, and her fingers fumble to my shoulders. My hands slide lower, pulling her waist closer to me, threading my fingers under her shirt to her soft skin.
We move faster, her fingers rise to my neck. She exhales a soft noise, and heat fills my stomach.
“I want to taste you.” It’s a rough whisper, and she stands slowly, looking down as a curl slips over her shoulder.
My hands are on her waist, fumbling with the button on her jeans. Her fingers are in my hair, and I kiss the skin below her navel. “Deacon…” she sighs in a tone I love.
“What the fuck?” A sharp voice rips through our moment.
Angel is jerked back, and Beto stands in front of me, seething. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”
“Beto, you’re hurting me!” Angel’s face contorts with pain, and I’m on my feet.
“Let her go.”
“What did I tell you?” He reaches behind him, pulling out a black handgun. “The next time I saw you with her?”
“Beto!” Angel screams, jerking her arm against his grip. “No!”
Her brother doesn’t move. His eyes flash, and he’s holding the weapon in my stomach.
“Put it down before you hurt someone.” My voice is low. I don’t want to taunt him. I don’t know how far he’ll go.
“Get the fuck out of my house.” He takes a step closer, still gripping Angel by the arm.
She’s no longer struggling. Her eyes are fixed on the gun.
“Beto, please.” Her voice trembles. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Get out.” He shoves her back hard, and I lunge forward, putting my hand over the cool metal and turning it away from me.
It goes off with a sharp pop, and warm liquid spills over my hands. Fear seizes my chest, choking my breath.
“Fuck.” Beto’s lips tighten, and he drops to his knees.
I’m holding the gun as Mateo enters the room.
“Beto!” He’s shouting, grabbing cloth to stop the blood, and I’m trying to figure out what just happened.
The gun slips from my hand to the white fluffy rug.
Angel is on the floor, terrified eyes flying between me and her brother. “Beto?”
It’s all happening so fast, but it feels like time has slowed down. Mateo rolls him onto his back, pressing a towel into Beto’s side. His eyes are closed, and blood is all over his stomach.