Unravelling The Hitman: A BWWM Romance Page 4

  “Someone who cares about the woman you almost ran over.” My voice went low and firm. “Apologize to her or I will make you.”

  He spat to the side, his messy hair flopping. Instead of dropping to his knees and begging for forgiveness, he snarled, “I’m going to kill her.”

  “Do you have a death wish?” My tone was calm but, inside, I boiled. “There is only one choice.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore.” He launched forward, intending to surprise me and rush after Angel.

  Unfortunately for him, I could predict his next move from a mile off. Stepping in his path, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed my elbow against his throat.

  He crumpled like an empty rice sack.

  “Say no more,” I ordered.

  He sat up, his head moving in circles and a dangerous flush on his cheeks. “I’ll kill her… and then I’ll kill myself.”

  Anger seared my mind. I felt my control unraveling, despite the many eyes that peeled away from the stunning sunset and landed on us.

  Blood thumped through my head.

  “Shut up,” I hissed.

  “She’ll die. She’ll die.”

  I raised my arm, fingers coiled into fists, prepared to crush it against his head. Something smacked my wrist and held. My eyes shifted to the side where slim fingers wrapped around my skin.

  A sweet fragrance rode the wind.

  A child whimpered.

  I knew who stood behind me before she’d even spoken a word.

  “Deacon,” she said softly. “Let him go.”

  My arm muscles seized.

  I didn’t move.

  To my surprise, Angel thrust Reid at me. I was forced to catch him, letting the lunatic go so that I could hold my son properly.

  Angel made sure that Reid was secure before stepping in front of me and nudging me back.

  My eyebrows shot high when I saw her widening her arms, covering us. A protective stance. Despite the rage coiling in my gut, my lips twisted in awe.

  Reid tapped my cheek. “Dada.”

  “It’s okay.” I soothed his back. “It’s okay.”

  Angel twisted around and whispered, “I’ll handle this.”

  “Did I look like I needed your help?” I muttered, shifting Reid to my other side. “Go. He’s dangerous.”

  Angel ignored my plea and knelt in the sand. Brown eyes softening, she lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m sorry about your bike.”

  The lunatic scrambled to his knees, planting his palms on the ground to push himself up.

  “Angel…” I hissed. Worried eyes flitted to Reid. I could defend us, but not with my son in my arms. “Stay back. He’s dangerous.”

  She swayed forward.

  “Angel!” I roared.

  To my horror, she snaked her hands around the crazy man’s neck and hugged him.

  7

  Angel

  I’d heard when the cyclist screamed about killing me. Fear had slithered up my veins and tightened my chest. In that moment, I’d wanted nothing more than to tuck Reid close and run. Let Deacon handle it. Stay safe.

  But something deep in my spirit refused to let me leave. I stood, a safe, healthy distance away, enraptured by the scrawny man who seemed to be at the end of his rope.

  I’d never met him before.

  He had no reason to hold such animosity toward me.

  So why…?

  It was then I’d heard my dad’s voice in my head, “Angel, sometimes, the loudest, angriest people are the ones with the deepest wounds.”

  Inside, I’d debated whether I should step in. So, when I saw Deacon clobber the man with a practiced, breezy stab of his elbow, I couldn’t hold back.

  Ignoring all else—Deacon, Reid, the passersby who, for the second time today, were staring my way—I focused on the cyclist bowed low in the sand.

  He was hurting.

  It was written all over his face, tattooed in those tear-filled blue eyes. He wasn’t a killer. Not that we weren’t all capable of murder. But this… it was different.

  I saw the brokenness in his eyes. It reminded me of the day I found out that my father, my best friend in the whole world, was sick. That helplessness, that rage, it had begged to be unleashed.

  This guy had chosen me as his target, but I wasn’t the one he truly hated.

  “She’ll die,” he whispered, spitting into the sand.

  And I knew what I had to do.

  Deacon’s shocked breath rattled the air as I swooped forward and threw my body against the cyclist’s. He trembled, burying his face in my shoulder.

  Something wet dripped against my skin.

  Tears.

  He bawled, softly at first and then loudly. The sound triggered Reid who started crying in solidarity. Their wails lifted to the blood-red sky and flew on the currents of the soft, tropical breeze.

  “Reid, stop crying,” Deacon snapped.

  I threw a hand back, warning the father to remain quiet. In that moment, I didn’t care how powerful Deacon was or how much he affected me. A man was falling apart in front of my eyes and Deacon’s throw-punches-first-ask-questions-later gig was the wrong approach.

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  The stranger lifted his head slowly, torturously, as if his neck could no longer hold the weight of it. With chapped lips, he replied, “I was too late. She was gone.”

  “Who?”

  “My wife.”

  My mind raced, struggling to piece the truth together. “Where was she?”

  “At the hospital.” He sobbed, a horrible, broken sound that summoned my own tears.

  I held them back and prodded. “Why was she there?”

  “She suffered from… epilepsy.” He wiped his face with the heel of his hand. “It didn’t stop her from living her dream, travelling the world. She was so brave. But… when we got to Belize, she had an episode and hit her head.”

  I winced.

  “We rushed her to the hospital, but she wasn’t waking up. Three days. I just left for a few minutes to take a shower and eat. It was just for a few minutes…”

  Suddenly, it hit me. “You were rushing to the hospital when I knocked you off your bike.”

  “By the time I got there…” he swiped at his face again. The dirt mingled with his tears, forming mud trails down to his chin. He looked like a crazed animal when he lifted his head. “They’d already taken her away.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I hugged him again, ignoring the hissing sound that Deacon made when I did.

  I didn’t let his disapproval stop me.

  Sorrow knew nothing but pain, nothing but agony. Torture. In this man’s mind, I deserved to be punished and, in a way, I couldn’t blame him. If anyone had kept me from spending the last few seconds with my dad, I’d want to kill them too.

  “What can I do for you?” I murmured.

  He pulled back and stared at the sand. “Why are you being kind to me?” He peered at Deacon. “Your boyfriend’s angry. And he has a right to be. I shouldn’t have acted like that.”

  “That’s not the question I asked,” I insisted.

  He flashed a look at me before his gaze stumbled back to the sand. “I shouldn’t.”

  “Stand up.”

  His head whipped toward me. “What?”

  I climbed to my feet and brushed the sand off my knees. “Get up. On your feet.”

  Deacon grabbed my elbow and tugged me beside him. “Angel, what are you doing?”

  I ignored him and stared pointedly at the cyclist. Weary and bruised, he stumbled to his feet. His bangs brushed his forehead and he clasped dirty, trembling fingers together.

  “Look at me,” I said, summoning some of Deacon’s boss-man energy from earlier.

  He did.

  “My name is Angel. This is Deacon and his son.”

  Deacon frowned. Hard.

  “Peter,” the cyclist said. He flicked a glance at Reid. “I’m glad he’s okay. Scary what could h
ave happened if you hadn’t jumped in.”

  The brooding man at my side held his son back as if Peter still posed a threat.

  I slanted Deacon a scolding look and pointed to Reid. “He’s fine. So am I.”

  “No thanks to me,” Peter mumbled. “I’m so ashamed.”

  “You’ve already been punished.” I cringed, noticing the bruise on his neck from where Deacon had sacked him. “We all make mistakes. And I’m sorry too. If I’d just taken a second to look where I was going, I wouldn’t have run into you and you would have been with your wife before she died.”

  “I still can.”

  “Huh?”

  He licked his lips. “They took her to Belize City in a chopper.”

  “She’s still alive?”

  “Barely.” Peter shuffled. “I wanted to catch a boat back, but I lost my wallet when I fell off my bike earlier. I don’t have cash, my credit card, nothing.”

  “You mean, there’s a chance she’ll make it?” Joy ballooned in my heart. The guilt that had been a heavy, pressing presence since Peter first told me his story eased.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Hope… is not a luxury I can afford. Since the moment we met, Stace prepared me for the worst.”

  “But the worst might not happen. Deacon! Quick!” I whirled on him. “Can I borrow some money?”

  He frowned. “You’re helping this guy? After—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Do you have a fifty? I swear I’ll pay you back.”

  The cyclist started crying again. Snot ran down his nose. “Ma’am, you don’t have to do this.”

  I focused on Deacon.

  Come on, Big Guy. Don’t be stubborn.

  Dark green eyes narrowed, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing it over to me. I slipped two twenties out and slapped them against Peter’s hand.

  His fingers clutched the cash. “Thank you.”

  “Go. Be with your wife.”

  “I’m so sorry.” He sniffed.

  “Go!”

  He nodded, turned and fled down the street.

  My heart swelled as I watched his legs kick up sand. Silently, I prayed for his wife, that she’d be okay, that he’d get there in time.

  With a sigh, I faced Deacon. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back as soon as I find my friends.”

  “I don’t care about the money.”

  I stared into his darkened eyes. How could one man be that handsome with such a severe scowl? The hard planes of his face, cut sharp and rugged by the Lord Himself, intensified in the dusk.

  I wanted to both cower and provoke him.

  But retreat was the safer bet.

  My mind retraced the sight of Deacon slamming his elbow into Peter’s neck. He’d done so calmly, naturally. It was a practiced move and that gave me pause.

  Who was this man?

  A gangster?

  Wariness stole into my bones. Caused me to lean back. Establish some space. Just because Deacon was unbearably hot, swoon-worthy and, apparently, a great father, didn’t mean I could trust him.

  Deacon studied me just as I was staring at him. His gravelly voice rumbled over me. “How did you know?”

  “Know what?”

  “That he wouldn’t hurt you?”

  “I didn’t.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t scared,” I reached out and fixed Reid’s shirt, “because you said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

  He blinked rapidly, as if my confession had stunned him, as if he didn’t know what to do with himself now that I trusted him.

  A little.

  There was still that tiny niggling in my chest when I thought of the way he’d clamored Peter, but Deacon had made it clear he had no intentions of hurting me or seeing me hurt. His anxiety as I faced Peter alone made that loud and clear.

  Deacon raised his hand and stroked his thumb over my cheek. It was the softest touch and my chest started aching again. Like crazy.

  Instead of backing away, I gravitated to him, safe in the fact that Reid was there and we were in too public a place for things to get crazy.

  Suddenly, a voice boomed down the street. “Get away from my woman!”

  I stiffened.

  Pulled away from Deacon.

  Whirled around.

  Standing in the middle of the road, legs spread apart like a cowboy in an old Western, was Humphries.

  And he looked pissed.

  8

  Deacon

  I was beginning to lose count of the men I wanted to kill today. The idiot yelling at me could join the list.

  “Oh no,” Angel murmured, pulling away.

  I moved forward as if to capture her again but restrained myself at the last minute and dropped my hand. Gritting my teeth, I turned to face the newcomer.

  Whoever had interrupted us would pay for it.

  A large man stomped down the street. Rolls jiggled beneath the tent of his oversized shirt. Swimming trunks revealed wide legs. Bushy eyebrows slanted over black eyes.

  “Friend of yours?” I murmured, holding Reid tightly.

  “Colleague.” Angel ducked her head.

  If I knew her better, I would be able to interpret the cause of that sheepish expression. Since we’d only met an hour ago, I could only assume that her sudden shyness and the flicker of guilt in her eyes hinted at a history with this man.

  And I didn’t like that thought.

  At all.

  As Angel’s colleague stormed toward us, pedestrians stopped and took notice.

  I leaned down and suggested, “Should we return to my shop?”

  “Why?”

  “To have this… discussion off the street.”

  Angel’s mouth opened and formed a stunned little ‘o’.

  I steeled myself against the adorable picture she made and kept my expression severe. A glance at my son showed him taking it all in with wide eyes.

  Reid was holding up well, given the circumstances.

  Before meeting Angel, our visits to the mainland were quiet and uneventful. We’d blended into the background. Few knew our names. Most ignored us or satisfied themselves with smiling from afar.

  Today, in less than an hour, we’d drawn more attention than Reid and I had ever gotten in the months we’d lived on the island.

  Angel shook her head. “I’ll explain everything to him. You can go.”

  Just like that, I’d been dismissed.

  Stung, I clamped my fingers over her wrist. She jolted back, looking up at me in surprise. My mind went blank. I spoke the only words that presented themselves in the moment.

  “What about my money?”

  She tilted her head, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. A second later, her mouth tightened. “I thought you said I shouldn’t worry about the money?”

  “I see.” I dropped her hand and rubbed my chin.

  “You see what?”

  “Is this your routine? You save babies from golf carts and then run off with the wallets of their grateful fathers?”

  “It’s only forty bucks.”

  “Maybe it isn’t. I haven’t checked.”

  She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I’ll pay you back. Just wait.”

  “Angel!” The large man approached us, wheezing pathetically. Sweat rolled down the spiky underside of his beard and the dark lines on his neck.

  “Mr. Humphries.” Angel extended her hand and asked, “You don’t happen to have a forty on you, by chance?”

  I stiffened. “I don’t want his money.”

  “Why not?” She whirled on me, the fire back in her eyes. “Money is money.”

  I turned my face away, ending the argument.

  She sighed heavily and returned her focus to Humphries. “Are you guys still at the beach?”

  “Still at the…?” He smacked his lips together. “Angel, do you know what time it is?”

  She scrunched her nose and peered at the sky. “The sun’s setting so it must be around six
o—” Angel gasped. “The boat. I missed the boat. Is everyone gone?”

  “They spent the last hour looking for you. Principal Amy almost called the cops. I talked her out of it. Promised I’d stay back and look for you myself. She’s really upset.”

  “I’m so sorry. I left my phone and bag at the beach or I would have called.”

  “Are you okay?” He looked her up and down, gaze lingering on her chest. “What happened?”

  “A lot. Some good, others… not so much.” Her eyes shot to me and then returned to the ground.

  My jaw worked.

  Did I fall under the ‘not so good’ category?

  “It’s okay.” Humphries grabbed her shoulders, gently rubbing his thumb against the blade. “But we’ll have to stay over tonight. Just the two of us. I’ve already got the hotel room.”

  “One room?” I growled, glaring at his hands on her beautiful skin.

  “It was all they had.”

  “I’m sure you could find a better arrangement if you looked hard enough.”

  “Not during the summer,” he shot back. “San Pedro’s loaded this time of year. I’m lucky we’re not spending the night on the beach.”

  Something in his words, his demeanor, rang false.

  I didn’t trust him. Or maybe there was more to it than that. A vision of Humphries and Angel sharing one room flashed in my mind.

  Heat sliced through my chest.

  Jealousy.

  No, there was more.

  Intuition.

  Any man in Humphries’ position would want to take advantage. Self-control, honor, integrity—all three were necessary when faced with a beauty like Angel and yet they came in short supply because of her as well.

  Something told me this man had even less of those traits than I.

  Decision made, I swatted Humphries’ hand off Angel’s shoulders. He slid back with a hiss of his teeth and another dark stare at me.

  Ignoring Angel’s shocked expression, I spoke. “There’s plenty of room at my place.”

  “You want me to come to your house?” Eyebrows popping high, Angel crossed her arms in front of her chest as if to ward me off.

  “Not you.” I turned slightly. “Him.”

  “Me?” Humphries cheeks ballooned.

  “Yes.”