A million questions flew through his mind. The only answer he had, though, the only solid, concrete thing he knew, was that he owed her.
He owed Lana Kelley so much more than he could ever repay. He hadn’t signed up for this. He’d been promised a quick job, a way to score a huge chunk of change. Instead, Lana had been a hostage for months, at the mercy of Le Clair and his ruthless fists, forced to pose for videos and photos in order to scare her family.
And the entire time, she’d been pregnant. So yeah, he owed her big-time.
But he couldn’t be a father to this baby. He had no love to give to a child, to give to anybody. His capacity for love had died right along with his parents years ago. Yet he knew Lana wouldn’t be able to understand why he had no place in a kid’s life. In her life. What if he snapped one day, the way his father had? Genetics were a very powerful thing, and his dad’s abusive DNA bubbled like acid in his blood.
As a kid, he’d always been too intense, felt things too deeply, wanted things too much. His father had been like that, too, and after his parents died, Deacon realized just how dangerous that intensity could be. How easily a person could snap.
So he’d banished emotions from his life. Decided the only way to control them was by not feeling them. How could he risk feeling anything for Lana or this baby? What if that darkness inside him, the same darkness that had destroyed his father, slithered out and hurt them? No, he couldn’t take that chance. He’d already hurt Lana enough.
The baby would be better off without him. With Lana for a mother, the child would have everything it wanted and needed. Money, security, love, kindness. Deacon knew without a doubt that Lana would be strong for this baby, as strong as she’d been throughout this entire ordeal. An ordeal he was partly responsible for.
Guilt seared into him, nearly burning him alive.
“You…you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met,” he choked out.
Lana stared at him in shock. She must have heard the raw note slicing his voice. He’d heard it. And he was just as shocked.
“What?”
Unable to stop himself, he touched her chin, tracing her delicate jaw with one calloused finger. “You survived this, all of this, with no help from me.” Remorse hung from his words. “This entire time, you were strong, for yourself, for this baby. Jesus, Lana, I’m…I’m in awe of you.”
Rather than shying away, she leaned into his touch, letting him caress her cheek. “You did help,” she said quietly. “You got me out.”
His chest ached with shame. “I got you into this in the first place.” The ache was suddenly replaced with a jolt of determination. “But I’m going to fix it. We’re not in the clear yet, but I promise you, I’m going to take you back to your family. One of the guys mentioned your father is in Montana, so the first thing we need to do is—”
The feel of her hand on his thigh cut him short. When he met her eyes, he knew exactly what was on her mind.
“Lana…” He trailed off, nearly jumping as she dragged her hand closer to his groin. “Stop.”
“No.” Her hand stilled. “I know there’s a thousand things we need to do, and I know that this isn’t one of them.” Her face collapsed abruptly, a look of torment and dismay entering her eyes. “But damn it, Deacon, I don’t want to stop.”
She slid closer, pressing her lips on the stubble coating his cheek. “I don’t want to think about anything right now. Not our next move, not the fact that we’re probably being hunted down as we speak.” Her voice shook. “I’m scared and confused, and my arm hurts, and I’m not thinking clearly, and right now, I just want you to kiss me.”
His breath hitched.
“Can you do that?” she asked, looking up at him with imploring blue eyes. “Can you please just kiss me?”
Chapter 12
Words kept streaming out of Lana’s mouth. Words she knew she shouldn’t say, questions she knew she shouldn’t ask, but as she sat there next to Deacon, with his big warm body pressed beside hers, she had no strength left. The attraction she’d felt toward this man, however inappropriate it might be, was something she couldn’t battle any longer.
This entire night had been too much to handle: fleeing the city, the fear spinning through her at the thought of losing her baby, telling Deacon the truth. She didn’t even have the energy to think about any of it right now. She was tired and sore, and so incredibly frightened her hands refused to stop shaking.
“I don’t want to think right now,” she whispered into his rough, stubble-covered jaw. “I just want to forget about reality.”
Deacon didn’t respond, but she saw his throat bob as he swallowed.
“That night at the hotel,” she continued, a desperate twinge to her voice. “It was like a fantasy, a dream. You made me feel something I’ve never felt before with a man.”