“You’re too hard on yourself.”
“And you’re obviously too naive. What part of my world don’t you understand? I told you I killed my fucking father.”
“Why did you kill him, Deacon?” she repeated. Although she had asked it before, it seemed to be addressed in a different way. She must’ve known how I felt perfectly justified in killing him, but she still wanted more. She wanted to make me dig up that emotional grave where I had long buried the reasons that drove me to murder my bastard of a father when I was still practically a kid. After all, I was seemingly loyal, and the greatest breach of loyalty was killing your own blood.
Even though I should’ve ignored her question and stalked out of the room, I decided to give her what she was after. Then maybe she could once and for all know what an unimaginable bastard I was.
“Because he killed my mother! He tracked her down and tortured her like a fucking animal. He couldn’t just slit her throat or shoot her. No. He made her pay for running from him. He beat her until she died from internal bleeding and a fractured skull that sent bone fragments slicing into her brain.” Shaky hands brought the cigarette to my lips so I could take a drag. Sometimes late at night, if things were too quiet, I could hear her screams … hear her begging for her life. Then finally her pleading for my life.
“Where were you when your mother was being killed?”
“Why do you have to ask so many fucking questions? Are you some kind of morbid freak that gets off on shit like this? A masochist for emotional pain?”
Instead of cowering back at my verbal assault, Alex stood firm. “Where were you?” she repeated.
“Why do you need to know? What could you possibly get by fucking knowing?”
“It isn’t for me that I’m asking. It’s for you.”
I tossed the cigarette onto the ashtray on the table, then lunged at Alex. Taking her by the throat with one hand, I glared into her eyes with enough venom that she should have cowered in fear. “If you were a man, I’d take you down for fucking with me like this.”
“If hitting me makes you feel better, frees you of the pain, then hit me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Answer my question.”
“You got a death wish, woman?”
“He tied you up, didn’t he?” When my nostrils flared with anger, she said, “He didn’t just leave you in the car or another room. He made you watch what he did, but you couldn’t do anything to help her.”
Squeezing tighter on her throat, I willed her to shut up. She was too close. She knew too much. She could see me too well.
Her fingers came to my hand, her nails digging into my skin. But as I stared into her eyes, there was no panic or fear in them. Easing back, I dropped the hand from her throat. I eyed it with contempt before dropping it beside me. What the hell had I been thinking to manhandle her like that? “I’m sorry,” I croaked.
“No. I’m the one who is sorry.”
“You damn well ought to be after pulling the shit you just did.”
“I’m not sorry for that.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry for the helpless seven-year-old little boy who has been forced to carry around such a burden, such guilt, for something he couldn’t control.”
I practically leaped off the bed to get away from her. “Don’t you fucking dare start that pity shit with me!”
“I’m sorry that you’ve never been able to open up to anyone before for fear that they won’t love your darker parts.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Although I wanted to march straight for the bar and down a few shots, my boots remained rooted to the hallway floor.
God, the things I’d said to her—the deepest, darkest parts of myself. No woman had ever gotten that much from me. Not Mama Beth, not Lacey. Fear had always bound me from revealing too much. That if they knew the real me, they couldn’t love me. Sure, they may have had their ideas about what I got up to in my business, but they never questioned me about it. Hell, no one had grilled me like Alexandra had.
For reasons I couldn’t fucking understand, I didn’t escape down the hall to throw some back with my brothers. Instead, I opened the fucking bedroom door and slipped back inside.
Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed, the sheet pulled up to her chest. Her brows rose at the sight of me. “Me coming back in here doesn’t mean I agree with what you said.”
“Okay,” she said softly.
I crossed the room to the bed. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Miss Evans.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be.”
Jerking my chin at her, I said, “Go on and lie back down.”
“You don’t want me to go?”
“No, I don’t.”
Surprise flooded her face. “I just expected that—”
“Don’t you ever shut up?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly before she flounced back in the bed, burrowing under the covers. Of course, while she was doing that, I got another flash of her bra-covered tits and those damn boy shorts. While her behavior still had me fuming, just the sight of that petite yet strong body of hers fueled other reactions in me. Damn, that woman.
Once she was covered, I walked around the side of the bed. I eased down on the mattress to honor her request of staying until she fell asleep. Of course, I kept my ass on top of the covers and as far away as I could from her. When I thought she had finally settled down, I reached over and hit the light.