Take It On The Run

Chapter 25

POV: Sloan

I'd never seen that side of Deacon before. The man who took me from behind with his hand in the training room was nothing like the boy I'd grown up with. He was so confident, so authoritative, so mind-blowingly seductive.

"I'm going to the back to grab a case of Purple Haze." I felt him standing behind me right before he spooned me like he had earlier. My toes curled inside my boots. "Try not to spend too long imagining what would've happened if that alarm hadn't interrupted us. We do have customers to attend to."

Other than the one guy at the end of the bar who was drinking as cheaply as possible and the dude who appeared to be nursing a hangover in a secluded booth, the place was pretty much dead.

I rolled my eyes. "Like I said, colossal ego."

He chuckled. "Oh? Is that why you've been wiping the same part of the counter for the past five minutes? That spot looks impeccable, by the way."

I flushed but managed a sarcastic comeback. "Those beers aren't going to fetch themselves, D."

He growled against my neck, and the sound went straight to my core. "Are you sassing me again? One would've thought you learned your lesson earlier."

"What can I say? I'm a stubborn little brat. Sir."

I could practically hear his sultry smile as he promised, "You're going to pay for that later, minx."

I waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Get lost already, will ya."

He smacked and squeezed my ass playfully before disappearing into the back. I laughed to myself, grabbing a pint glass and filling it with some garbage domestic beer that tasted like piss water.

"I'll take a martini, dry," came a male voice on the other side of the counter. Since I hadn't heard anyone come in, it was probably Sleeping Beauty finally coming to pay his toll, so I'd let him stay in the booth. Whoever he was, he had a noticeable Irish accent.

I didn't look up as I snorted and replied, "I don't know where you think you are, mister, but we don't do fancy shit here. This is Bourbon Street. Best I can do is gin and pickle juice neat."

He laughed. "You always did have a wonderful sense of humor, Sloan. Or shall I call you Lexa?"

The pint glass fell from my hand, crashing against the floor near my feet. I reared back until I ran into the shelf of liquor.

It took a moment to recognize the face before me, the same green eyes and bad dye job I was currently rocking. Only now, his hair had a tinge of red to it instead of being a pure brunette. He'd shaved most of the thick beard I'd seen in Avery's photo into a goatee.

I spat, "I'm surprised you remember anything about me since you obviously didn't give two shits about me or Mom."

When he noticed the overhead cameras, he pulled his black baseball cap down a bit and looked nervously at the door to the back, where Deacon had disappeared.

"If you want answers, you need to come with me right now." He looked meaningfully at the back door again. "Alone."

"Why the fuck should I trust you? For all I know, you've worked out some kind of deal with The Collectors where you hand me over in exchange for your own freedom."

"If that's what you think, then you're not as smart as I remember."

"That's what happens when you don't get to finish school because you're being chased by a bunch of serial killers. Thanks for that, by the way."