Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) (5 page)

Another wave of panic crashed over me. Did Donnie know Dawson was back in town? Little went unnoticed by him. Was that why he didn’t want me to attend? I wanted to be there. Beth’s death had hit the town hard. She was one of the last good things about Chancing. A real matriarchal figure. When we had been younger, she’d treated me as one of her own. Been the mother I never had. But if Donnie knew, maybe it was for the best I stayed away.

“Come here, Joy.” Donnie’s tone was firm but laced with a softness that called to me or, at least, to the darker parts of me.

I walked into his outstretched arms and let him envelop me into his vise-like grip.

“I know what day it is, baby. The service is at eleven. I’ve ordered flowers.”

Hope filled my chest, replacing some of the dread that had rushed in when I’d heard his voice.

“I’ll be back later. I can stop by and make you feel good, real good,” his voice drawled and the hope splintered into shreds.

“I want to be there, Donnie. I want to pay my respects.”

Please let me go and pay my respects,
the unspoken plea lingered on my tongue.

“Baby.” He tipped my chin up forcing me to look him in the eye. “You don’t want to go and get yourself all worked up. Take the day off. Go visit the girls. Go shopping or paint your nails or something and dress up real sexy for me later. I’ll stop by and you can make me feel good. I’ll bring something with me. Would that make you happy?”

He knew.

Donnie knew Dawson was back in town, and when I thought my life couldn’t get any more screwed up, it just did.

“Didn’t expect to see you around here today.” Sherri peered over my shoulder and glanced around the street before ushering me inside. The door clicked shut behind us.

“Donnie thought it would be better if I didn’t go to the funeral.”

A bitter sound escaped her glossed lips and she said, “And what do
you
think, darl?”

I dropped my head, guilt stabbing at my heart. Sherri knew me better than anyone did. The parts I wanted her to know, at least.

“Of course, I wanted to go. It’s Mikey and Da-” The air rushed from my lungs. It had been happening every time I thought about Dawson being here. Back in Chancing.

Sherri stopped abruptly and I almost slammed into her back. She turned slowly, sadness gleaming in her eyes. “I know.”

“What do you mean you know?” I stuttered.

“Dawson, he’s back. The whole damn town is talking about it.”

“Shit,” I cursed under my breath.

Not that I was surprised. Everyone knew everyone else’s business in a place like Chancing.

“Have you seen him?” Her eyes widened as she waited for me to respond, and slowly, I nodded my head. “He was at Hank’s. I thought I was seeing a mirage.”

Reaching out for my hand, Sherri wrapped her soft fingers around mine and motioned down the hallway. “Come on, darlin’. It might only be just past ten, but I think we need a drink.”

I followed behind her with nervous energy tumbling in my stomach. Was this really happening? I knew that it was because I’d seen Dawson with my own eyes. Felt the feelings come rushing back to the surface. Feelings I had no right to feel anymore. And then I’d watched his eyes spark with recognition. Witnessed the confusion as it spread across his tanned face as he pieced together that I worked at Hank’s.

“Here.” Sherri pressed a glass into my hand. I hadn’t even realized we had reached the kitchen. But since laying eyes on him, I’d been in some kind of daze.

It really was him.

“So he came back. You think he came for Beth’s funeral?”

I swallowed a large mouthful of whiskey and nodded. “What other reason could there be? He left, Sherri, and never looked back. What else could he possibly have come back to Chancing for?”

Sherri looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye. “Really? You’re pulling this crap with me? He didn’t leave and never look back. He told you to live your life. To get the hell out of Chancing and make something of yourself. He thought you were off dancing your way to success in California. He didn’t just-”

I slammed the glass down on the counter and heaved a big sigh. “Just stop, okay. He left me, Sherri. He wouldn’t let me visit, he didn’t write, he. Just. Left. I can’t go there. Not now, not after everything. I’m with Donnie now. It’s better this way.”

Liar.

Sherri muttered something under her breath just as one of the girls from Shakers came barreling into the room.

“I fucking hate this gig.”

“Watch your mouth, Lyla.” Sherri shot me a look that said it was too early to deal with this kind of thing. “What’s happened now?”

“It’s that fat fuck thinking he can stick his dick wherever the hell he wants.”

I flinched at her honesty. Even after spending a lot of time around Donnie’s girls, I still wasn’t comfortable with their lifestyles.
My
lifestyle.

“Patrick?”

Lyla drank down a glass of water before turning to face us. “Who else? He’s a pig. Donnie promised me high-end clients, not a fat fuck like him. Shit, sorry Joy, it’s just, ugh, he makes my skin crawl.”

I didn’t reply. What was there to say? Just because I was with Donnie, it didn’t mean I had any say in what went on here or at Shakers.

“Patrick pays well. He’s one of Donnie’s most trusted business associates. Don’t do anything stupid, Lyla,” Sherri warned.

Lyla flicked her long blond hair off one shoulder and exhaled. “You’re right. I just don’t appreciate him thinking he can stick it anywhere. But I guess he’s better than Steve is. Paula said she caught something from him last month.”

Sherri laughed, but I couldn’t see the funny side. It was sad, really, that Lyla made it all sound so normal.

“Who else is in?” Sherri asked, helping herself to an apple from the bowl on the counter.

“Paula, Rachel, and the new girl.” Lyla flashed Sherri a look that I didn’t understand.

“What’s wrong with the new girl?”

Lyla dropped her head. Sherri continued to peel the skin off her apple as she said, “She’s young, Joy. Too young. But Donnie brought her here and told me to prepare her. There isn’t much I can do.”

I straightened off the counter, letting adrenaline drive my words. “How young, Sherri?”

“Joy, leave it. You know we can’t do anything. I’ll take her under my wing, show her the ropes, protect her as much as I can, but Donnie handpicked her.”

I bet he did
, I thought as acid burned up my esophagus.

“How young?” I refused to back down, anger coursing through me.

“Seventeen.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what we said.”

Disgust swiftly replaced my anger. I knew Donnie was sick and twisted. He’d proved that to me on more than one occasion but a seventeen-year-old? That was an all-time new low even for Donnie DeLuca.

“What the hell is he thinking?”

“She’s pretty, Joy, a real looker. You know what guys are like. They get off on that just-got-out-of-high-school look. They’ll be lining up for her.”

“Christ, Sherri. She’s still a child.”

“Not in this town. Kids grow up too quickly in a place like Chancing. Hell, you know that better than anyone, Joy. Don’t make this a reason to stir shit with Donnie. He won’t back down. You know what he’s like what he sets his sights on something.”

Oh, I knew—I was living proof.

And it had destroyed me.

Slumping back against the counter, I said, “I need another drink.”

One drink turned into two, and two turned into three. We spent the rest of the day getting high in the living space of the run-down house Sherri operated Donnie’s
business
from. Girls came and went, and men did the same; it was an endless cycle of filth and desperation. But I was too stoned to care.

“So.” Sherri handed me the joint, and I took another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs and seep through my veins. “What was it like seeing him again?”

I exhaled, blowing out rings of smoke. “Shit, Sherri. Did you have to go there again?”

“What?” she gasped feigning shock.

“It was too much all at once. The memories, the pain, the guilt, the heartache. Seeing his face again … I’d dreamed of that for so long, but I literally felt ripped open. I couldn’t breathe.” A tear slid down my face.

“Geez.”

“Yeah, geez.” I tipped my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Dawson’s face filled my mind. His intense blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and slightly imperfect nose.

It had been a little over three years since I last saw Dawson, and although he looked the same, he was different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was more than just the handful of scars marring his skin, the silvery line running on the underside of his jaw, and the two puckered blemishes in his hairline. Whatever he’d been doing while he had been away had left him with physical marks, but I also felt the change in him—his presence.

Four years ago, Dawson Spencer would have walked over hot coals for me. For his friends. He was that guy; the dependable, protective guy everyone wanted in their lives. And he was mine.

But that was then, and this was now.

And now, I belonged to Donnie DeLuca.

T
he morning of the funeral, I woke at five am.
What the fuck is up with that?
Especially as it had been a late one the night before. Mikey, Lex, and I had sat out back on rickety lawn chairs and drank a shitload of beer. Mikey kept Lex entertained with stories of the trouble we’d gotten into in high school. Most of it had been kids’ stuff, but Mikey and I had endured our fair share of slaps from our mom. Fortunately, for us, she had rarely told our father. Geary Spencer had a tendency to be a bit heavy handed if you were standing too close the moment his temper broke. Unlucky for me, I took after him in that respect. He always said my temper would get me in trouble one day … and he was right. It had on more than one occasion.

Most of Mikey’s stories involved me, him, and my best friend growing up, Donnie DeLuca. We’d been tight back then; it was always Donnie and me. Mikey was brought in when we needed a third man or a lookout. He was up for anything then. Far as I knew that all ended, like many things, the night I was arrested.

Rolling over in bed, I sat up, swinging my feet around to land on the floor. My head felt better than it should considering how much we had to drink and how late we’d stayed up. I’m pretty sure Mikey nodded off at one point in his chair, despite how uncomfortable it was.