The Only Witness: The Center City Series: Book One Read online

  “Then you know that it's her birthday next week. The past few years I've just given her money, let her buy what she wants but this year, well this year she's made it clear that cash is not king.” Deacon hooked his sunglasses into the collar of his tee shirt. “Think that you can help me out with that? I was thinking a necklace.”

  Vera felt herself relax a little. If he was here about Adelaide and not what she'd seen the night before, then she could simply help him find a great gift and send him on his merry way. The thought of it cheered her. “Alright, I'll hold off on lunch. Wouldn't want you to waste any more time.”

  If he were anyone else, Vera would have teased him about him not seeming the jewelry type, but even if she was more relaxed, she wasn't stupid. “What kind of necklace?” The quicker she knew what he wanted was the quicker that he could leave. Now that she'd relaxed a little about the reason that Deacon Hawke was standing larger than life in her store, Vera began to feel something besides fear. It was a warmth that spread through her body, sent tingles to parts of her which had been dormant for way too long. It was a struggle to push it aside and focus on what he was saying.

  “Something with a charm on it.” Deacon told her.

  “A charm? Like a pendant?” Vera cursed her wandering mind. She needed to focus on getting him out of her store and to keep herself off his radar.

  “Yeah, that's what it's called. It needs to be an emerald, and it needs to be old.”

  “Antique?” Vera walked over to the counter and picked up a small notebook. She began to jot down what he was looking for. It was rare that she took requests; she mostly dealt in the stock that she had, but in this case she's make an exception, because honestly no one said no to Deacon Hawke.

  “Yeah, I guess. I don't know. I don't know about this shit.” He motioned around the shop. “That's why I'm telling you what I need.”

  “Alright, an antique emerald pendant necklace that Adelaide would like.” Vera bit back a sigh because that was going to be no small feat.

  “Exactly. And I need it for Friday.”

  “Friday? It's Wednesday, hell it's nearly noon, so the day is half gone. You want me to find you the perfect gift in forty-eight hours?” Vera demanded, her voice growing louder and annoyance spreading through her.

  “Is that a problem?”

  Vera finally met his eyes. Had he seriously just asked her that with a straight face? He stared at her, obviously waiting for an answer. She realized that it was a problem, it was a big problem, but it was much more manageable than the reason she'd thought he was at her door.

  “It is, but I should be able to find you something,” Vera told him. “I can show you two that I have here, but I'm not sure they'd be her taste.”

  “Then I don't want to see them,” he told her. “I want something that she's going to love.”

  “Okay,” Vera said slowly. “You realize that this isn't going to be cheap, right?”

  “Never said I wanted cheap. Besides, you'll work with me on the price.”

  There he went again with the ordering instead of asking. His cockiness was pissing her off and turning her on in equal measure, which only made her angrier. “I'll gladly give you a discount, but it's still going to be expensive,” she warned. She'd be damned if she ended up losing money.

  “Do I look like I'm hurting for money?” Deacon drawled the words as he stepped closer.

  “No,” she replied.

  “That's because I'm not,” he walked into an area full of chairs, “so it's not an issue.” Deacon stopped short as a large brown chair caught his eye. “That's for sale?”

  Vera moved over to where he stood, keeping as much distance between the two of them as she could without being obvious. With a sigh, she realized that he'd zeroed in on her own personal favorite chair in the world, the chair that she couldn't get up the stairs to her tiny apartment, so she'd reluctantly placed it on the sales floor. “You want that one?”

  “Aren't you supposed to look happy when someone wants to buy shit?” Deacon questioned with surprise.

  “Nothing in this store is shit,” Vera snarled the words as she turned to face him. He was looking at her as if she were lunch or maybe dessert, which made no sense. She was average! Average height, slightly above average weight, which was why diet week was so important. This morning she hadn't bothered with makeup, and her hair was still damp and pulled into a thick bun at the base of her neck. “I said nothing in this store is shit,” she repeated and crossed her arms.

  “Sure it's not, Sweetheart,” he took a step closer to her, “got some real nice stuff in here. Like that chair. I want it.”

  “Well you can't have it. It's not for sale.” Vera knew it was a weak protest, and she could see the price tag hanging off of the arm.

  “The price tag says otherwise. I'll take it. One of the guys will be by later with a truck to pick it up,” he told her. For a moment Vera was sure that he was going to step forward but he didn't. Instead he took several steps back and looked down at her.

  “I said that it's not for sale.” Vera informed him.

  “Should have taken the price tag off of it,” he grinned, “now how much do I owe you?”

  “A thousand dollars,” Vera replied because it was triple what the chair had cost her and there was no way he was going to part with that much money for a chair.

  “That tag says five hundred, that's what I'll pay.” Deacon's eyes narrowed at her. Vera was reminded once again that Deacon Hawke got what he wanted, when he wanted it.

  Vera's mouth opened and closed several times as she was trying to figure out something to say. “Fine,” she gave him her best annoyed look. Damn it, she really loved that chair. “If you're done shopping, I'd really like to get to lunch and to get to work on this little project you've given me.”

  “Just one more thing. How long have you been living in the apartment upstairs?”

  “A few weeks,” Vera's heart jumped right up into her throat again. “Why?” She thought her voice sounded high pitched and nervous, but if he noticed he gave no indication.

  “If we'd have known that you were living here, we'd have made sure that someone came past at night to make sure everything is okay. You haven't had any trouble, have you?”

  Vera forced herself to keep her eyes on his. “No trouble,” she told him, “everything's been nice and quiet, just the way I like it.”

  “That's good to know,” Deacon studied her as if he knew that she was lying. But he couldn't know that, and she had a really good poker face, so she said nothing. “You sure that everything has been okay?”

  “I just said so,” Vera's voice rose, her tone defensive.

  Deacon studied her for another moment. “I'll let you go and get your lunch now.”

  “Thanks,” Vera wasn't sure exactly how she kept the relief out of her voice, but somehow she did. “Oh, I need a number to contact you about the necklace. Should I use the one on the card?”

  “No, trying to keep the gift a secret. Got a pen? I'll give you my cell.”

  Vera handed over the small notebook she'd grabbed earlier and the pen. “I'll call you as soon as I find something.”

  “Do that,” Deacon gave her the paper back, “in fact, use it anytime that you want.” His tone was casual, but a grin spread across his face, so Vera knew her poker face wasn't as awesome as she'd told herself it was.

  Vera felt the heat in her cheeks, knew that she was blushing. “I...” Her words were cut off by his mouth as he closed the distance between them and claimed her lips. When he deepened the kiss, she didn't protest; in fact she began to kiss him back. Her body was pressed against his, soft against hard, and a small moan escaped her throat when he pressed his hips against her.

  The kiss would have gone farther, Vera knew it, but then the sound of a phone broke into the dream she'd somehow wandered into. She'd just been kissing Deacon Hawke, a personal goal she never thought she'd accomplish. Deacon released her, reached into his pocket for the phone. “Yeah?�
�� He growled the word into the phone. “Ten minutes.” He pocketed the phone and slipped his sunglasses back on. “Like I said, you use that number whenever you want.”

  Vera felt a pang of disappointment as his eyes were covered once more, and the feeling multiplied when he stepped back from her without trying to initiate contact. What the hell was wrong with her? Deacon Hawke might have been hot, but she knew for a fact that he was a stone cold killer, yet she continued to lust over him like a love sick teenager after the high school quarterback.

  She followed him to the door. The sign was still flipped to “closed,” and she left it that way, though she no longer had a desire for food. He now knew that she'd been in the shop last night. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there were plenty of windows she could have been peeping out of.

  Somehow she was still breathing. Vera intended to keep it that way. She pushed everything she could out of her mind as she turned away from the door and sat down at the computer. It was time to do some work, keep her mind occupied and find what Deacon Hawke was looking for.

  Chapter THREE

  It was too early for a beer. Deacon Hawke had three more appointments, and it wouldn't do to have clients smelling it on his breath, but that didn't mean that he didn't want one. He wanted more than a beer. There was a restless feeling inside of him, and it had been there for longer than he liked. If he let himself think about it, he'd admit that it had all started at his sister's party, when she'd introduced him to the woman who kept her shopping addiction well fed.

  Fucking Vera Warren. He'd seen her around town, admired her ass and thought she had a pretty good rack, but she'd always been sort of a cold fish. She never came to any of the parties at the warehouse. She ran a fussy little shop in a town that didn't lean towards fuss. Most of the things that he'd seen inside could have come out of his Grandmother's house, though to be fair Vera's wares were in better shape. Most of his guys who'd dealt with her said she was nice. Only Houdini had any real attachment to her, which was unusual, since the younger hacker was definitely the love 'em and leave 'em sort.

  “I've got Mr. Clark here, Deke,” his secretary's voice came through the intercom. Felicia was a good kid, straight out of high school, but she knew what she was doing. He was glad for that, because even if she didn't he'd have kept her around because of her father. Hector had been one of the founding members of The Vikings, along with Deacon's father and Uncle. He'd died in a bloody battle with a rival MC just days after he'd announced his intention to step away from the MC so that he could live out the rest of his days without a gun in his hand.

  “Send him in,” Deacon cleared his throat to hide the thickness of his voice. Thinking of Hector was always an emotional thing for him. Any fallen Brother was; they all weighed heavily on his head, even the ones who had been before his time of leadership. “Bring in something to drink, and if we're not done in fifteen minutes, rescue me.”

  “Bottom drawer stuff?” Felicia questioned.

  Deacon grinned, knowing she was referring to the bottle of Jack Daniels she kept in the bottom of her drawer for days when you just had to have a drink. “Just water or soda for now. Send the asshole in.”

  Ethan Clark ran a perfectly respectable insurance agency, drove a fancy car and lived in a huge house. For all intents and purposes he appeared to be a devoted family man, which just went to show that what you saw wasn't always the truth. The man was as corrupt as the day was long, deviant in ways that would make his prissy wife faint and so smug that Deacon had pictured himself breaking his jaw a time or two. But that was personal and this was business. He didn't get to his feet as the man entered. He'd only asked for the water so he wouldn't be subjected to hearing Clark clear his throat compulsively for the length of the meeting. “What can I do for you, Clark?”

  “I have some items which need to be moved from Wyoming. It will require two trucks. I will provide the drivers.”

  Deacon sat up straighter in his chair. “My men drive my trucks.”

  “I'm prepared to pay you a good sum for the use of the trucks. You also have my word that the drivers are all competent and can be trusted.”

  Ethan's word wasn't worth much to Deacon; he nearly pointed that out but held back. Truthfully, he wanted to kick the man head first out of his office. There was no way in hell he was handing over his trucks to people he didn't know. “You want my trucks, you get my drivers. They're discreet, as you very well know. It's not up for discussion or debate.”

  Clark cleared his throat, rose to his feet and laid his card on the desk. “The sum written on the back is what I'm prepared to pay you. Now, if you so happen to change your mind, you give me a call.” Clark rose to his feet, adjusted his suit jacket and nodded at Deacon. “Don't wait too long to reconsider the offer, it'll be lucrative for the both of us.”

  Felicia came into the office with the bottles of water still in hand almost immediately after Clark had left. She made a face at the man's retreating back. Deacon had to turn his laugh into a cough. “Should I break out the Jack now?”

  “Tempting, but I've still got stuff to do,” Deacon looked over at the younger woman. “You're dressed pretty damn fancy today,” he smiled as she blushed. “Got a hot date?”

  “Something like that,” Felicia admitted.

  “What are you still doing here, then? Go on, take off the rest of the day.” He could easily handle the rest of the afternoon on his own. Maybe even cut out a little early himself, find some time to head back around to New to You.

  “Seriously? You rock, Deke.” Felicia's words broke him out of his thoughts. He didn't need to be thinking about prissy ass Vera Warren and her store full of hand-me-downs, anyway. Deacon watched as the girl all but ran for the door. He could remember being that young and that excited about everything; it just seemed like a long time ago.

  His eyes fell on the card that Ethan Clark had left on the desk. Out of curiosity he picked up the card and turned it over. The sum on the back made him let out a low whistle. What the hell was worth one million dollars to Clark? Deacon wasn't sure he wanted to know what the man had up his sleeve, but he was pretty sure that he needed to.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” a voice questioned. Deacon's head snapped towards the open door. He'd known Piper Douglas since they were children. If things had worked out differently, she'd be his sister-in-law. It had been years since he'd seen her face. Actually, he'd been pretty sure that he'd never see her again.

  “What are you doing here?” Deacon forgot about Clark, about Vera, or anything else that had been weighing him down as he rose to his feet.

  “Wow, Deke, it's amazing to see you too. I missed you as well.” Piper plopped down in the chair across from his desk and promptly put her feet up on the surface.

  Deke eyed the road dust falling off of her boots onto the surface of the desk he'd cleaned the day before, but said nothing. He knew the look on her face; she was spoiling for a fight. “You're supposed to be in South America.”

  “Yeah, I am.” Anger flashed in her dark eyes. “The Old Man called, said I needed to come back posthaste.” Piper let out a snort of laughter as Deacon sat up straighter. “Let me guess, he didn't mention summoning me.”

  “No,” he admitted. “Did he say why?”

  “Of course not,” she spun her ring around her finger, as she always did when she was trying to work something out in her mind. “It cool if I crash at the house?”

  “You don't have to ask that, little sister, you're always welcome. Have you been to see Adelaide yet?” He figured not, because he was sure he'd have heard her screams of joy clear across town.

  “Not yet,” Piper continued to spin her ring. “She probably knew that I was coming back before I did.”

  “Probably,” Deke agreed. He rose to his feet and stretched. “You want a drink?” He let out a laugh at her expression. “Stupid question.” There was a lot that he wanted to ask, but Piper's expression told him most questions weren't going to be welcome. He chose w
hat he thought was the safest course. “So, what did you get Adelaide for her birthday?” He moved around the desk and walked out of the office to snag the bottle from Felicia's desk.

  “Fuck, her birthday is next week.” Piper groaned. “I totally forgot. I haven't even thought of a present. I can not believe she's refusing money this year; who does that?”

  “Apparently, Adelaide does. And just for the record I have thought of a present,” he smiled a smug smile as he came back into the office and found two clean coffee mugs. Piper sat up straighter, a curious expression on her face. “And no, I won't tell you what it is, but I will tell you where to go to find something she'll like.”

  “That's fair,” she took the glass he offered her, held it up and knocked back the contents in one swallow. “You're really not going to tell me what you're getting her? Really? And here I was thinking that we told each other everything.”

  “Not this,” he grinned at her, “not after the Christmas when I told you I was buying her those new pots she wanted, and you turned around and got them for her anyway. Mine were already wrapped when you accidentally sent her the confirmation email so she knew they'd be delivered Christmas Eve.”

  “I panicked,” she protested, “and I was already in the doghouse because I wasn't coming home, so I needed something good. Besides, she loved the new phone you got her.”

  “Do you know how much that phone ended up costing me?” He'd been a good brother and put the line on his plan, and watched his bill shoot sky high from Adelaide's use. There were another two years on the plan, and she'd been hinting that she wanted the latest model.

  Piper chuckled. “Should have just got her the IPad.”

  “It was sold out,” he chuckled as he remembered trying to find one the day before Christmas. It was impossible even with his reputation. “So I'm not telling you shit except the store.”

  “Fine, what's it called?”

  “New to You,” he replied.

  “Vera's store?” Piper questioned as she held out her glass for him to fill.