Chapter 1


I wrestle with sleep. In fact, we fight quite often. I toss and turn and struggle to obtain every ounce of rest I can get. It's been that way ever since Daniel died. The only time I'm able to sleep peacefully is when there's someone else in my bed. Lately that hasn't been often, not in the way I prefer. Yoji spends the night a few times a week because he knows it helps me, but it's not the same. I like closeness. I like contact. I like the heat of skin touching skin, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath my hand, the intimacy of warm breath on the back of my neck and a strong arm around my waist.

We'd fallen asleep, Slate and I, completely spent. It was the most restful sleep I'd gotten in weeks. So when I heard the sharp, quick chirp of my phone pierce the silence, I nearly growled. As sleep began to drift away and consciousness took hold, I became aware of the hulking body next to me. My back was pressed up against his side. I was pretty sure he was still asleep, but I couldn't be too sure. My phone chirped again and I rolled away from Slate's warm body to fish around with my hand through the pile of clothing on the floor.

When I flipped open the small cell phone, the bright screen made me squint. I hissed softly, silently cursing at the intrusion. Tiny black letters across the interface told me it was Moss on the other end of the line.

"Sarah?" He always talked so loud, the speaker didn't even need to be against my ear. I pressed and held a button so he'd know I couldn't talk. Carefully, I slid off the bed and crept across the room to grab a robe hanging on the bathroom door. It was huge and dragged on the floor. I wrapped it around my naked body and slipped out of the bedroom so I could talk without waking up Slate.

"What the hell, dude?" I still whispered, not wanting to be too loud. "It's a quarter after the effing crack of dawn."

"You told me to call you if I saw anything." I waited for Moss to continue. He did so hesitantly a few moments later. "The only one I recognized was Deacon, but he had two others with him. All human."

The grogginess of having just woken up was gone instantly. I raked a hand through my hair, trying to untangle the knots and make it look somewhat presentable. I hadn't brought a brush with me. "How many girls?"

"Just two. The other guys carried them in, I think they were drugged."

"But alive?"

"They were gagged, so I assume so."

"Where are you?" Adrenaline was already pumping through my veins. He gave me his location and I hung up without saying anything more. He'd know I was on my way. When I opened the bedroom door again, I studied Slate's frame. He hadn't moved, but his breathing had changed; he was awake. I didn't say anything, nor did I bother to be overly quiet anymore. Once I'd gotten dressed and hung the robe back on the door, I stopped to look at him once more. Same position as before. I smirked, a hand settling on the doorknob.

"Gonna leave without saying goodbye?" My smirk blossomed into a full-blown smile as Eddie shifted slightly to look at me.

"Bye," I said, pulling the door open.

He just snorted, amused. I rolled my eyes and let myself out.

There was no way I could get the wrought iron door open without detection. It was locked with three padlocks and a long, thick chain binding it to the wall. After trying all the windows, my only choice left was to pray there was some kind of entrance on the roof. That, and find a way to get up there.

Behind the warehouse I found a large utility dumpster that I used as a starting point. From there I managed to reach the metal fire escape that snaked up the side of the building. It's a good thing I'm light because that rusty ladder looked like a stiff wind might blow it off the wall. All I could think about was that it probably wouldn't hold me carrying the dead weight of a girl over my shoulder. I'd need to find a different escape route.

Once on the roof, I took a moment to look around. There was a door that led to the second floor, but the handle was missing. It was locked using a chain like the one downstairs strung through the hole where the doorknob should have been and a hole that had been carved into the door jam. The only other point of possible entry was the large air duct off to one corner, but that didn't sound very appealing. It would also cause quite a bit more noise than a single blast from my gun to break through the padlock. Luckily, laser blasters are helpful when noise is a problem. It was especially helpful in my case because it sliced through the lock like butter. Hopefully no one checked the roof entrance very often.

Now immersed in complete and utter darkness, I found myself wishing I hadn't been so hasty in my desire to rush in. Until my eyes adjusted, I was blind as a bat with no way of knowing where I should be going to find the stairwell. After several minutes of groping in the pitch black, I rounded a corner and saw the faint flicker of a dying exit sign at the far end of the hallway. I raced towards it, my breathing shallow as relief colored my previously worried expression. The stairwell was poorly lit and it hardly helped me see where I was going. Thankfully there were only three flights I needed to descend.

As I got lower, the air around me grew stale with the smell of sweat and something else I couldn't place. Finally, the door with a large white B painted on it came into view as I hopped down the last few steps. Drawing a deep breath, I pulled the door open. It was even darker than it had been upstairs, but my eyes were adjusting more quickly now and I could see the faint outline of the large room I found myself standing in. It was cold, and damp, too. There was water dripping from a leaky pipe somewhere into a puddle on the floor. It wasn't until my lungs began to ache that I realized I'd been holding my breath. When I allowed myself to take in more air, I wished I hadn't. The smell of urine and excrement was so strong that I gagged. I switched to breathing through my mouth, though that wasn't much better. No one was in this room, so I set off down a narrow hallway at the other end of the room that would hopefully lead me to the girls.

Suddenly a piercing cry echoed throughout the basement, ringing through the hallway and causing me to freeze. I pressed myself up against a wall, willing my heart to jump-start itself lest I die of cardiac arrest. The sound of the girl's weary cries faded into nothingness. While terrifying the scream had been, it gave me a direction to move in. Two minutes later I could make out the outline of a girl huddled against the far wall of a small room. It wasn't until after I was kneeling by her side that I realized something was terribly wrong. This girl was alone. My eyes wheeled around the room, searching for the other girl who should have been there.

My heart beat frantically in my chest, so fast and hard I thought for sure the entire world could hear it. I pulled on the chains that bound the girl's hands together. She stared at me with dull, lifeless brown eyes. She'd been drugged to the gills, barely able to hold her own weight upright.

"What's your name," I whispered fruitlessly, reaching for my blaster.

I was just about to slice through the chain when I heard a metal door scrape open down the hall. My heart stopped again as footsteps were heard close by. I was hiding behind a stack of crates when the footsteps entered the room and crossed over to the girl. By now my eyes were more than acclimated to the darkness, so when I peered through an opening in my hiding place and saw the bright, blood red eyes that belonged to the stranger, I had to stifle a terrified gasp.

"You're bleeding," he commented, barely looking at me.

I glanced down at my hand and flexed my fingers. It wasn't too bad. I'd barely even felt it. My knuckles were just a little scratched up. With a sigh, I started searching for the tear in my shirt. It was along the left side of my rib cage. I toyed with the torn fabric without saying anything. Then, after a long stretch of silence, "So what happened?"

Moss turned to glare at me again, but I could tell he was just trying to look mad on purpose. He didn't fool me, so I flashed a smile. He growled quietly and reached for a pack of cigarettes perched on the dash. "Right about the time you got on the roof, heatseek found a leech coming up from a tunnel or something. I didn't see where he came from, just suddenly there." He paused to light his cigarette, one hand to work the lighter and the other to cup around the flame.

I reached for my seatbelt, fastening it quickly and gripped the seat. I hated when he did that. Paraplegic's need both hands to work all those damn levers and buttons, not to mention the wheel. "You really need to start letting me light those for you when you're driving." The truck was decelerating, but drifting into oncoming traffic.

"Chicken," he snickered harshly, finally returning his hands to their proper rests. Then he continued, "He just stood there for a while. Don't know what he was doing and I thought for sure you were going to make it there before him. Damn lucky it worked out the way it did, Mack. He got the first girl before you showed up and then you know the rest."

It was my turn to pick up the story, telling him what happened down there and how the rat probably saved my life. I had to interrupt my story when he turned down my street and I realized what he was doing. "Crap, can you take me to Vagabond? Got my last run today before indefinite leave. Then you'll have to put up with my craziness all the time!" He turned the van around and pointed it in the direction of the docking station. We didn't talk anymore about the leeches, I could tell he didn't want to. I knew he wouldn't beat me over the head with it, but I guessed that my little stunt had ticked him off more than I originally thought. Wisely choosing to stay quiet for the remainder of the journey, I just looked out the window and waited for the docks to come into view.

"Mental hugs!" Ten minutes later I was climbing out of the truck. Moss didn't like to be touched. At all. I'd seen him break a guy's hand for doing it.

"Hey, dammit woman! Gimme back my weapon!"

"Oh," I grinned, reached for the blaster stuffed into the back of my jeans. After stowing it safely back in the glovebox, I tossed him a wave. "Bye Moss, I'll be good next time. I promise! And I'll be back soon!"

"Git'er done!"

The first thing I did when Deacon left was text Slate. I wasn't sure why, but I felt like he deserved to be told....instead of just finding me one night with Deacon at the bar. Definitely wasn't my style, but I was trying to be nice. The text simply said 'Come see me', and I hoped he would soon. While I waited, I poured a glass of wine, grabbed my gun and unlocked the door. I didn't want to have to get up to answer it when he got her.

The waiting was making me sick to my stomach. I couldn't think up a way to break it to him easily and I was pretty sure he'd just up and leave the moment I told him I was with another guy. Folding myself onto the couch, I balanced my gun on one knee and held the wine glass on the other, nervously fingering the stem as the minutes ticked by.

An hour later, he tapped the door. "Mack?"

I blinked when Slate said my name, head turning slowly in the direction of the door. "It's open."

He pushed open the door, and from habit ducked inside, even though there was plenty of room. "Hey." He smiled and then saw my gun out. "Gonna shoot me?"

"No," I shook my head and turned the safety back on, then leaned forward to put it on the coffee table. "Can't be too careful when I leave the door unlocked."

"I suppose not," he said, turning to lock the door before crossing the floor toward me, and leaning press a kiss to my head. "You act like you've seen a ghost, which is a dumb expression by the way."

My eyes closed as he bent to kiss the top of my head and mashed my lips into a thin line. I worked very hard to keep my breathing even and expression as impassive as possible. "Hey now, some people can see them. I never have, but maybe I'm just not looking in the right places."

"They are nothing like the movies." He took a seat beside me. "So, what's up."

I peeked over at him, trying to get in a little light conversation before breaking the news.. "How would you know? Do you see them?" Yeah, I was ignoring his question.

"Yes, I have," he shrugged out of his jacket then, at least he'd changed clothes since I'd seen him last. Showered and shaved too. "One was a real dick too, apparently didn't like being dumped in Jersey." He chuckled a bit, and looked at my pistol on the table.

"Weird, I don't know what I'd do if I saw a ghost. Just knowing they're out there floating around is enough to give me the creeps."

"Most of them are harmless, some are full on Swayze pissed though."

"Ah, I see." I didn't know who Swayze was, but I believed him. I glanced away from him to stare at the blank tv and sip my wine, taking my time with it while mulling over the next course of action. "So..." Nice start.

He leaned back, but there was still a tension. He followed my eyes, then looked around the place again.Finally his dark eyes stopped on me and he turned his body to face me. "Only if I lost a button."

Hah. He was funny. The tiniest of smiles was there, lurking along the lines of my mouth. After a long one-sided staring contest with the tv, I turned to mirror Eddie's position and faced him with a serious expression. "We can't see each other anymore."

His brows went up, "Oh?"

"Yeah." That was real helpful. Truth was I didn't want to have to do this. But prolonging it was only making it more difficult.

His jaw tightened slightly and his face became something like his namesake. "And why is that?"

The words refused to form on my tongue. Slate turn to stone and my heart followed suit. "I told you yesterday that I'm not on very good terms with Karma. But I'm trying to fix that. There are things...things that I have to do that prevent me from being with you. I have to do something in order to make things right."

"Right." He watched me and shook his head. "You are full of shit. I think there's something you have to do, but I think there's something you are scared to tell me as well."

"Excuse me?" I frowned at him. "Look, I don't owe you any kind of explanation, but here I am trying to be nice and let you know what's going on. This is hard for me to do, ok? I like you; universe be damned, remember? But I can't help that this needs to happen."

"I never said you owe me an explanation. I said you are scared." His face was still remaining expressionless, but his voice had enough emotion to it. "Universe be damned, means taking a chance. Taking a chance usually means more than one damned night. Sure, I've been a little out of the loop, but at least that's how it used to be."

I grit my teeth. "There's someone who has information I need. He's my 'in'. But I'm not going to get anything out of him unless I make it legit."

"So, let me help you."

"You can't. I need to be with him. I mean, be with him." There was a flash of something in his face then. Somehow, I knew he'd take it like this.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." He reached for his jacket then.

"Slate," I panicked, reaching out to keep him in place and wishing as I did so that I had the strength to hold him still. "Please."

"What, Sarah? You just tell me I can't see you anymore, now you want me to sit here?" He stopped in the motion, looking at me, and waiting.

Karma had to have one last laugh before I made things right, was that it? I let him go, recoiling. How could I expect him to wait while I boned some lowlife? He would never understand and I couldn't ask that of him. So I said nothing.

"This isn't a time for clamming up, Sarah. What?"

That was the first time he'd used my name. My real name. For some reason, it only made me feel worse. "I used to be a blood doll." My scars were plain as day in that flimsy tank top. "I'm trying to rescue girls from the same fate, Slate. He's part of it."

"I don't like my name," I scrunched my nose, but went on to respond to his earlier statement. "Look, we'd been together twice. I didn't think my hobby was something you needed to know about."

"It's a pretty name, and I know we don't know everything about the other, but tell me, if I was out in something that could have killed me, wouldn't you feel a slight tinge?"

"I didn't know it was gonna be dangerous," I retorted, neatly sidestepping his question. "I didn't know I was going in until the thought struck me. If it helps, Moss was against me going in, too."

"Moss?" He shook his head. "I don't know Moss, and I'm not saying I was against anything... but shit, I can't help it if I feel for your safety."

"He's my tech." Again, ignoring the feel-good, mushy sticky part of the conversation.

"Tech guy. Named after sticky shit around ponds and lakes."

"No, after his father, Timothy, actually. I'm ex-military, Eddie. I like last names."

He grinned. "I'm a street mage Gangster, Sarah. I like your name."

My face? Well it resembled a resigned, unhappy girl. "I could just stop responding until you call me Mack."

"Right."

I didn't respond, instead lifting the untouched glass of wine to my lips. I tipped my head back and drained the glass. "You're going to have to leave soon..."

"Mack, when you can... I want to know how I can help." he smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "And when I can use my new crowbar on that bastard that's keeping the girls."

"Oh, he's mine," I said darkly.

"I gotta get at least one good hit, for this." He motioned between us like I had earlier.

"I'll let you have what's left of him when I'm done." It probably wasn't healthy to sound so serene. "Oh," then my expression became serious again. "Quinn doesn't know about any of this. She doesn't know Deacon is a hunter and thinks all I am is a pilot."

"Like I'm proud of the fact that I gotta let go for this? I'm not going to go off telling her anything."

"She's gonna know something happened. Deacon's on her hockey team, she'll see us together."

He nodded, "So what do I tell her? Irreconcilable differences?"

"Just..." I paused, grasping for a good answer. "Just tell her it was sex."

"We aren't together, because of sex?"

"No, tell her it was just sex. Nothing more. That we were never together to begin with."

"Right."

"I don't think she'll have a problem with our non-relational status, but I don't want her knowing about anything else. Just so we're clear on that."

"Not my place to tell her."

I leaned forward to put the now-empty glass on the coffee table next to my gun. I didn't lean back, but dropped bare feet to the hard floor and rested my elbows on my knees. "Thanks."

"So, I'm going to go. Don't want to blow your shot." I frowned at the floor. "I don't like it, Mack. At all... and yes, I've said it. But, You know what you are doing."

"That makes two of us." I'd let him think that. In truth, I didn't know what in the hell I was doing--just that I needed to do it. My tongue ring clattered against molars in my agitation.

"Get it done, I still want to tear the universe apart." He smiled again, reaching for his jacket.

My breath left me in a rush. This was harder than I thought. "Yeah, git'er done. I'll do my best."

"Git'er Done?" He looked at me. "Your sleeves are too long for that."

What was he going on about? I huffed out a quick laugh. "It's something Moss says."

"Yeah... so call him Larry."

"Tim," I corrected; that particular joke was so far over my head, I had no hope of ever understanding it.

"Never mind," he smiled. "You know how to get ahold of me if you need me."

"Yeah," I stood, shoving my hands in my back pockets lest they try to keep him from leaving. "I'll let you know as soon as I know anything."

He frowned but leaned toward me when he stood, "Watch your six, I mean it."

I leaned, too, but seemed to be fighting it. "Sure, sure." He reached out and pulled me toward him. "No, don't," I protested weakly, but went into his arms all too willingly.

"Something to remember."

"You're making this very difficult." A whisper, up on the tips of my toes.

"Yeah, I know," and with that said, he leaned to press his lips to mine.

I allowed the kiss and returned it, but knew enough to break it off quickly or I'd never be able to let him leave. "Now get out."

"Yes, Dear." He chuckled and threw his coat on. "See ya, Mack."

"He can be taught!" I grinned at him despite my sadness.

"Keep thinking that," he paused and looked over his shoulder at me, "Sarah." He smirked, and pulled open the door.

"Not listening," I announced, moving forward to push him out onto the porch and close the door behind him. The moment I was able to put space between us and lock the door, I let my anger bubble up and show on my face. It was time for another shower...I could cry and fume and get the stench of Deacon off my skin.

"Deacon!" My voice rasped before his hand clenched even tighter around my neck, cutting off my oxygen supply. He had me shoved against the door with a firm grasp around my throat. He'd escalated from angry to physical in the blink of an eye; even I was surprised. I hadn't expected anything more than emotional abuse and manipulation from him. He was livid with me, probably suffered from a big anger management problem. I clawed at his hand, digging my nails into his skin, but inwardly I was in control of myself. I'd had enough air to keep me level headed and I decided to wait it out. But if he held me that way much longer, I'd have to drop him and risk blowing my cover. I needed him to think he could control me.

Earlier that evening, I'd come home to find him in my house. Not sure how he did it, but he must have made a copy of my key. His lapdog, Kyle, probably had something to do with that. Deacon came with ammo this time, another copy of the Gangstar that talked about me at the Red Dragon and a picture of me smoking a cigarette. I didn't know why I had to quit if he smoked like a chimney, too.

Deacon's fingers tightened again before finally releasing me. "So where were you that required that getup?" He was referring to the outfit I'd been wearing in the photograph.

I stared at him, rubbing my throat. "I was in one of the fashion tents, getting contacts. Being a model kind of forced me into the fashion world."

"Contacts?" He looked at me and his eyes seemed darker. "Modeling for who? And why's that damn rag calling me a...whatever the hell it was?"

"Yes," I snapped, frowning. "Contacts. I'm not sure if I've got another job, I was just testing the water. Right now I'm still modeling for Silver Mark lager." I massaged my neck, thankful I don't bruise too easily. "It's a gossip rag. I don't know why it says what it does. Franco likes to cause drama."

"Right... and the big boy? Just more drama? Talking about how good he treated you?"

"Don't know where they would have gotten that. Wishful thinking on their part? I was with him twice, Deacon. Twice. How many times do I have to repeat that? He's nothing."

"Apparently, Sarah." He stalked off toward her kitchen then, presumably to get a drink.

Everything in me wanted to drop him on the floor right there. He'd touched me, he'd hurt me. How far would he escalate in the future? "I'm sorry," I said softly, trying to calm him.

"Sorry?" he snorted, and pulled a beer out of the fridge. "You can't stay away from him, can you?"

No, I really couldn't. But after watching Slate leave with the Islander that night? I wasn't sure I wanted to see him ever again. "I wasn't with him, Deke."

"No, but you sure as hell couldn't have just come to the Fang."

"I like my bar," I told him patiently. "I've been going there for years."

"What were you afraid that he and his Mystery Date would think less of you? Or had to see if they were going to go at it on the bartop?"

I leaned against the door jam and crossed my arms. I suspected that he knew I liked Slate and was intent on needling into me the fact he'd been with another girl. "I went there for a drink. Quinn's usually around. We hang out. Last night she wasn't. Not a big deal. And for the last time, I don't give a flying rat's ass about what he does with that girl."

He eyed me again, "Fine."

"Can we just drop this now?"

"You need to let people know about me, again."

"I did. I told Quinn right after we got back together."

"I don't trust her."

I snorted. "Why not?"

"She's a party girl, and likely to want you out partying with her," He walked over and reached for my neck again.

I flinched and pressed myself against the wall. "There's nothing wrong with partying...I party with her a lot."

"Relax, damn it, I'm just looking." He turned my face to the side, looking at the marks his fingers had made. "Partying, really? Nothing wrong with it? I should go out, and let some bitch run her hands all over me?" The marks would be gone by morning, though where his thumb had been might leave the smallest of bruises. I could pass it off as a hickey.

"She and I dance with each other, mostly. The dancing isn't any worse than what it is at Fang, baby. It's not sex. It's dancing."

His eyes narrowed. "You didn't answer me."

"If it's just dancing, yeah whatever. But if the bitch is trying to stuff her hands down your pants, that's another story."

"So some swinging dick can put his hands all over your ass, and I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

"I don't let people touch my ass, Deke. It's my waist. Last I checked, that was appropriate."

His hand ran down my body to my hip bone, and held there."And, while their hand is here, they are grinding on you?" His voice was low, lips brushing against my ear.

"Fine," I said, putting a hand against his chest to hold him at a distance. "You want me to quit dancing? Whatever. If that'll make you happy. But I'm not going to stop hanging out with Quinn. She's my best friend."

"And stop with the smoking."

"I'm trying," I pushed a little, trying to get him to back off. "It's hard. I can't just go cold turkey. It's too hard."

He finally let her push him back. "I'm sorry, Sarah."

"No you're not." A mutter, leaving the kitchen once he'd backed away. I headed back into the livingroom to grab the cider I'd left by the door when I came home.

"It's like I come back to this changed... person, you know? If you honestly think I'm not sorry, then why not tell me to get out?"

I grabbed my drink, but kept my back to him. I didn't want to look at his face. "It feels like you enjoy finding things to be angry with me over."

"Hell I do, but damn it Sarah, do you see my point, at all?"

"No," I spun around. "I don't see it, Deacon. Enlighten me."

He sighed and put the beer down. "You are angry?"

"You just shoved me against the door and choked me. Yeah, I'd say I'm a little angry."

"I said I was sorry, " he growled.

I sighed, too. "It's fine, just...whatever. I don't want to think about it. Tell me what you want from me so I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I just did."

"No dancing?"

"Sarah, you make me sound like an asshole. I know you like to dance, but I don't want hands all over you, any more than you want them on me."

You are an asshole, I thought to myself. "Ok, awesome. No dancing. Simple enough. I just want us to be happy, alright?"

"And I don't like kissing an ashtray." Nevermind he smoked.

"I just don't know that I'm going to be able to quit. I'm sorry, but I can't get through my day without nicotine."

"Try harder."

"I smoke half a pack a day, Deacon! More if I'm stressed. You're asking too much."

"Stressed, really? What do you have to stress over? You are maddening."

Crap. "Life," I waved it off, setting my drink down so I could cross the room to be closer to him. When all else fails, distract him. "It's stressful, what can I say? Why am I maddening?"

"Life?" He shook his head. "Act like I am not supposed to care what you do, and who you do it with?"

"Baby," I cooed, slipping my arms around his waist. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just been a while since I was in a relationship. I won't go out dancing, I promise."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I said, up on tip toes in an attempt to ask for a kiss. Damn his height.

His arms fell around my waist and he pulled my against him, leaning to claim my lips with his.

"What's wrong?" I demanded as Deacon dragged me by the arm toward a waiting car outside the Red Dragon in. He practically pushed me in the door and slid in after me. We'd been hanging out at the bar, Myself and Quinn, and hadn't even started drinking when Deacon joined us.

"Get his number, Sarah?" He shook his dark head as he pulled the door closed. "Drive," he said to the imposing man in the driver's seat. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to take on Quinn's bet--seeing how much flirting it would take to find someone who would get us some food--but it was harmless! Aaron had complied without much pressing. I'd chosen him because he was a friend of Quinn's. It was harmless.

"Whose number?" I acted confused. "What are you so angry about?"

"The cook? You and Quinn were cheering it on, having a great old time."

"Aaron?" I turned to face him, forgoing a seatbelt so I could put some space between us. I knew he could get mean when he was upset. "Deacon, he's a friend of Quinn's. I was hungry and he got me some food. Jesus, could you be anymore jealous?"

"Yes, I probably could," he nodded. "You know you could have come by my place."

"I was hanging out with Quinn, dammit!"

"Yeah, and cheering on some jackass you could score in two fucking minutes, Sarah!" his eyes flashed anger then.

I rolled my eyes at him. "It was a game! See how long it took for me to get someone to bring me food. Christ, Deacon."

"Ditch me the other night for her, and then when Father bought those four girls, you fucking ditched me then too!"

Bingo. He'd done what I'd been hoping he would do for weeks. Deacon had finally slipped about something, luckily I was already onto it. He was referring to the 'Fashion Show' we'd attended several days ago with his family.

"Bought? Bought what--what are you talking about?"

He looked at me, "The dresses? He bought them, for your Modeling Career."

I stared at him, lips pressing into a thin line. That wasn't what he'd meant, but it was better for me to go along with it for now. "Oh, look, I'm sorry I had plans that night, Deacon. But you don't need to be this upset."

"Plans with who, Sarah?"

"Quinn."

"Oh really?" He looked at me, dark eyes were still angry and the street lights didn't seem to help.

My heart picked up pace, afraid he had proof to catch me in the lie. "Yes, a long overdue panty party."

"Huh... did Quinn move?"

Damn. "No."

"No...." he watched me for a long time. "Then, why was her house dark and silent as a tomb, and when I knocked, no one answer, Sarah?" his voice was chilling. "Almost like no one was home... or having any sort of party."

"Well what time did you go over there?" I was thinking fast, trying to come up with a believeable lie. "Because we were out drinking for a long time."

"Well lets see, first time was around 130, then around 630, no one home at your place, or hers. So, I ask again Sarah. Where.The.Hell.Were.You."

"Ok," I pressed herself against the car door, heart racing. There was only one way to get out of this without telling the actual trurth, but it would probably get me hurt. I was a big girl, but didn't like the thought of sporting a bruise for the next few weeks. "Ok! We were out all night. Drinking and...d-dancing. Clubbing and partying. I'm sorry!" A snake quick hand went out and slapped me across the face. I sucked in a sharp breath, head snapping to the side from the blow. My cheek stung, but I refused to allow myself to touch it. "Deacon, I'm sorry." It was better than telling him I'd been with Slate.

"Sorry? You are sorry, for fucking lying to me?" Again that hand came out towards me.

I flinched away, raising my hands defensively. "I won't do it again!"

There was the tell tale click of a hammer being drawn from the front seat. "Hear that, Love?" My heart, which had been racing only a moment before, stopped and skipped a beat or two. I froze, a gasp catching in my throat. "That is my driver's big pistol. He's been in some of the worst rat infested shit holes you can imagine. I happened to save his life, so he says he's mine....Look out the window, Sarah..." he paused, watching me. "I said look!" He pushed my head toward the window when I didn't move right away, intent on making me see the empty streets, the back alleys and the nothingness around us.

I was scared right now, the moment had gotten out of control. I could handle Deacon. I could even handle Deacon with a gun. But there was no way I could handle both Deacon in the backseat and a driver with a gun. "What am I looking at?" I asked, terrified.

"Your fucking grave. I'm tired of lies, and tired of warnings, Sarah. I thought we had something, Sarah. I thought I could love you." His voice now was quiet and too calm.

My lips trembled, mind racing to figure out a way to salvage this. "Deacon," it was barely audible and I was reaching for him then in real desperation. "Baby please. I promise I won't do it again. I'll do anything, baby!"

"Maybe instead of punishing you, I could just leave those two guys out here, in the damn trash."

"Please," I clutched at his shirt, real tears in my eyes. I couldn't let anyone die for a problem I'd created. Deke's anger, warranted or not, was created by me. "No, punish me. I..I was wrong. Don't hurt anyone else. Aaron and Finn didn't do anything!"

Deacon hissed. "Finn? Aaron, Slate? Am I trying to waste my time with a whore?"

"No! Slate was nothing. He was a mistake. Aaron and Finn are just Quinn's friends. I swear!"

"I thought you were different Sarah.." he was obviously displeased.

I tried again. "What else can I do?" I released his shirt, wringing my hands in front of me. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Sarah."

"What will?"

"Someone is going to die. I've asked you nicely," Yeah right, nicely. "To listen to me, to be my girl... but apparently that's too hard for you." He tapped the front seat with his hand. "Show her." A harsh light filled the cabin as the driver opened his door and went around to open my door. He cut an imposing figure.

"Out of the car, baby." Deke said with real amusement in his voice.

I could feel the tears beginning to well up and fought desperately to keep them at bay. I'd shown enough fear for one night. "No," I begged, finding it hard to breath. When the door opened, I couldn't help it any longer. The tears spilled over onto my cheeks. Deke opened his own door, and stepped out into the dark street. When Deke got out on his side, I wondered if I could make a run for it. But the big guy had a gun. It might be easy to get that away from him, however, if I could be quick about it. And it would only work if Deacon wasn't packing. I slipped out of the car, willing the tears to stop and wiping at them angrily.

The big guy walked to the trunk and popped it open, pulling out a large, heavy looking tarp. Dusky skin, shaved head could be seen briefly in the light before Deke shoved the trunk closed. I caught sight of a tattooed arm as the Driver moved past me. "Over there is fine," He instructed the driver with a point. "He's been a pain in my ass, and it's time." Deke turned to smile at me then, even so far as to hold a small caliber pistol my way. "Would you like the honors?"

When I didn't move or answer, the big man pulled another pistol, semi-auto what appeared to be a .50 cal and worked the slide, aiming it at the tarp.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, horrified, not touching the pistol offered to me. I edged behind Deacon, staying close to the car.

"Make a choice. You shoot him, or my associate shoots him."

"I can't! I don't kill people, what the hell?" My voice was rising and I lurched forward in the direction of the tarp. I found myself staring down the barrel of that big ass pistol.

"I wouldn't do that Sarah..." Deke warned. "He's pretty passionate about his work, and that guy, gave him a hell of a work out. Big bastard wouldn't quit." Deke shook another of her smokes from the pack, and used her lighter. "Make the choice, it's cold out here."

I backed awy from the B.A.P and began to cry in earnest now, turning to beseech Deacon. "Baby, please! Don't kill anyone, I don't understand why you're doing this! You're scaring the hell out of me."

"Think of it, as insurance, Sarah."

"You don't need insurance, Deacon. I'm yours," I clutched at his shirt again, turning to press myself against him.

"Sorry, baby, I promised him.. and he's huge." As I turned, the BAP Fired off four rounds, two to the head, two to the chest. The echoes down the emptied streets died out, no one was bothering to look, if there was even anyone around.

Gunfire never scared me, but this time I flinched and screamed, turning to see the tarp covered body. "No!" My shrill scream echoed in the night. I started shaking as I lurched toward the tarp again. This time that driver holstered the pistol, his job was done, and he was cold, so he went back to the car.

Deke followed me. "Well, thanks for telling me how to get your attention, Sarah. Go on, open it up. Come on, it's like Christmas," he was nearly giddy. "Aibeit a little bloody," he walked toward that tarp.

I fell to the ground, the cobble stone street jarring my knees but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything. The night was oddly quiet, even Deacon was drowned out. I'd been suspicious before when he wouldn't let me see the man under the tarp but now that he was? I just knew somehow that it was Slate. I reached with a trembling hand for a corner of the tarp and peeled it back.

"His name is Charley Roberts, Sarah," Deke said, watching me. "Amazing resemblance, don't you think? Shaved head, large, some crazy looking skull thing on his arm." He sighed and lit that smoke finally. "He was stealing from my father." He was quiet for a while. "I know now, the truth, behind how you feel for that big Slate." There was a relaxing inhale of tobacco.

While relief swelled within me, so also did grief. This man didn't need to die, either. I wiped my fingers over the side of his face, weeping from both feelings. I pulled back blood and wiped it on my jeans. "You're wrong," I said.

"Really? How am I wrong, baby?"

"Charley Roberts," I repeated his name, trying to catch my breath as I stood. "Didn't need to die. I'd have cried just the same for any person wrapped in that tarp." My entire body shook, but somehow I'd managed to stop the tears. I crossed the bit of distance between us, putting on a brave face. "You made your point. I will never disrespect you again."

"Next time, it's someone you know...Sarah." He turned and walked to the car, pulling open the door, and waiting for me.

I turned to look at Mr. Roberts, wondering if he had a woman waiting for him somewhere, worried. I frowned, resolving that nothing like this would ever happen again. I would not see Slate anymore. Slowly, I turned back to the car and silently got inside.

He slid into the car behind me and slipped his arm around my stiff frame. "Drive." And that man did what he was told to do, pulling away from the curb, and driving them back toward the Dragon.

Deke was sitting in his house, sipping from a glass of Petit Sera, and smiling while he waited. He knew his message was loud and clear, and also knew that I should be arriving any time.

So I was five minutes early. No messing around anymore, never anywhere without his knowledge with the exception of my"last goodbye" with Slate. I was wearing a dress, since Deacon preferred them, and stood huddled on the front porch after knocking.

Deke walked to the door, and opened it with a smile. "Come in, Baby."

I smiled, slipping into the house past him. Green eyes scanned the livingroom a few times before settling back on him while I worked to remove my jacket. "Hey, how are you?"

"I am good, how are you?" He was all smiles tonight, no hint of anger. He even reached for my jacket.

"Thanks," I said, not in the least bit surprised. Deacon could be a very nice guy when he wanted to be. He knew how to put on a show. "I'm alright, a little tired."

"Tired?" He hung up my jacket. "Why are you tired, baby?" He walked to where the wine bottle was, poured a second glass and held it out to me.

"Did some modeling today." I took the glass from him but didn't drink from it. "Silver Mark is looking to put up more ads."

"So, My Girl's beautiful face is going to be all over the place?" He was smiling, watching me.

I didn't have the energy to make myself look flattered, so simply smiled at him. His false behavior was sickening. "Yep, once they do a few more shoots I think. This one's for the lager."

"I like the lager, you should get me a hook up," His eyes were taking me in, shining. "You look good."

So this was how it was going to be? Pretend like nothing ever happened? I laughed a little, shrugging. "I'll see what I can do, babe." Still hadn't touched the wine. I didn't want to be even the slightest bit off guard around him anymore. "You look good, too."

"Thank you," he even turned to show the new vest and slacks. "Maybe I should model?" He smiled. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not really. They had food at the shoot." I gave another brief smile, gaze flickering to the couch ."I kind of just want to relax."

"I had Romero's deliver us some dinner," He nodded, "Okay, thought I would offer. He walked toward me then and put a hand to the back of my head. "Too good to kiss me, Miss Model?"

"Maybe we can heat it up a little later if I get hungry?" I looked to the couch again, but Deacon was looking for a bit of necking. I forced a smile and closed my eyes, leaning forward to meet his lips.

"Yeah, we can, " and he smiled, leaning down for that meeting of lips.

I knew I couldn't half ass this, I suspected he might be testing me right now. The hand not holding the wine glass settled on his hip. My lips parted, moving against his earnestly. He seemed pleasantly surprised that I was so eager to kiss him. Unless he was going to press me for something else, I couldn't find it in me to prolong contact any longer than necessary. So after a few moments I pulled away and started in the direction of the couch. "How was your day?"

He followed me to the couch, "I picked up your dresses from Dad's, took care of a few errands, and then was looking forward to seeing you." he smiled brightly. "I tried to call you last night."

If the dresses were at Kingsley's home, it was safe to assume the girls were as well. At least it was a start. I smiled, sitting down and crossing my legs. "Oh, about that. I was taking a bath last night and accidentally dropped it in the water." I pulled it from my purse, holding it out to him. There was water under the screen and it wouldn't turn on. "I'll have to get a new one."

He just chuckled, "Phones don't really need a bath, Baby."

I gave a smirk. "I think it was jealous of the tub, wanted to see under the bubbles."

Deacon turned it over, inspecting it idly. "Too bad, I could have used this..." he paused and looked at me. "I can't say I blame it." A big, lecherous grin followed.

"Used it?" I quirked a brow.

"The battery, I have a phone like this one, but the battery's shot." Not mentioning that he could check texts and the like.

That's probably why it took a bath with me. "Sorry, babe."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Sarah." he smiled over at me. "So you got a good night's sleep then?"

"Not really, but that's pretty normal for me."

"You always seemed to sleep good with me."

"That's because I sleep better with someone in my bed."

He let his hand come to rest on my leg, "Someone? Not just with me?" He bent then and with the other hand dropped the useless phone to the tabletop.

I looked at his hand, disgust roiling within me. "I guess I just like having someone with me. A warm body to snuggle with."

"I agree, when you are seeing someone, you sleep better with them."

My green eyes traveled from his hand, all the way up his arm and back to his face. "You're in a better mood today. It's nice."

"I was worried about you, and about us."

I sighed, leaning forward to set the glass of wine on the coffee table. "And you're not now?"

"Should I be?"

"No, I'm just surprised at the 180."

"I am sorry, I truly am. I just think of you with someone else, and I get a little crazy," his hand slid slowly up to my thigh for a light squeeze.

It took everything in me not to push his hand away. My smile was weak. "You don't have to worry about that, baby."

"I know that, now."

"Scaring me half to death was probably not the best route, babe." I pouted, not sounding angry at all.

"No," he scratched his chin, watching me, "I suppose it wasn't."

"That's not going to happen again, Deacon. I mean it. Look I know I was wrong for saying I wouldn't party and then doing it anyway, but pointing a gun at me is not ok. Telling me to kill someone is not ok." I frowned.

He lifted the wine glass for a sip as he nodded his head. "I know, but I don't wanna read about how my girlfriend is dressed like a cheap hooker, or that big bastard's name and how he treated you." There was a flash in his eyes, lightning fast. "I'm sorry, Baby. I really am."

I turned to face him. "Threatening to kill me is not the proper way to express that."

"I wouldn't have killed you, you know that." Yeah, right.

"You sounded pretty damn convincing to me."

"Well, I won't. Now you know."

"Thank you. I just.. I want things to go back to how they were when we met. We need to get back to that." I reached to put a hand on his knee.

"I agree, totally." He smiled at my touch, then looked at my glass. "Not feeling the need for a drink?"

"Not really in a drinking mood." I shrugged, settling back against the couch. "Plus I'm not big on wine."

"This one is really good, but you don't have to drink it," he took the glass, carefully placing it on the table. "They just kind of ruined ya for the night, huh? Not hungry, not thirsty..." he smiled and leaned back with me.

Being with him made me sick. The knife strapped high on my thigh beneath the dress was itching to be pulled. "I'm sorry, it's going to take me a little while to...you know, get over what happened."

"I understand, Sarah."

"So...how did your father manage to get dresses from that fashion line? Aren't they really expensive?"

"He pulled a few strings with some old friends. I just know you'll look damn good in them.

"Where are they? Can I see them?"

"Sure, they are in my bedroom, hanging on the closet door."

High heels were my herald, the click-click of footsteps as I made my way to the door. I knocked rapidly, then tucked my hands into my pockets to warm them. When he answered the door, the .500 appeared first and was followed by a look out. Slate dropped the gun to his side and pulled the door open a few more inches.

"Mack! Hey, come in."

I blinked. Though unalarmed by the gun, I was a little taken aback by the greeting. He wasn't usually so chipper. I slid through the doorway and unbuckled the belt of my red wool coat. "Hey Slate," I smiled.

"Hey, I wasn't expecting you. You okay?" He pushed the door closed and locked it, putting the pistol back on the table by the tiny couch. In boxers and a tank, he was obviously in for the evening.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I shrugged the jacket off my shoulders and draped it over the back of his chair. "Had an idea I wanted to run past you."

His eyes moved over my outfit and he had to smile. Nothing lecherous, just a man that liked what he saw in what a woman he cared about wore. "Looks good. Want a beer or something, while you run this idea?"

"Oh please, all Deacon had was wine." I slinked along behind him as he went.

He made a face at that. "Ugh," and disappeared from view, returning with Silvermark. He came back and twisted the top from one to pass to me.

I took it from him with a smile, glancing at the label with an arched brow. "Silvermark, eh? A little biased, are you?" A careful sip, savoring that first swallow and then a second longer pull of the amber liquid.

"Well, see... they have this hot chick modeling for their brand," He smirked as he twisted the top on his own.

"So does Badsider," I pointed out, gesturing to him with the mouth of my bottle. "PJ Ramirez? Damn hot sight, if you ask me."

"I don't know, this Silvermark girl? Something about her." He grinned, then walked over to me to lean in for a kiss.

"Silvermark's got two models, you know." My face tilted upward to meet that kiss, but I didn't touch him with my hands for fear that I might not let him go.

He kissed me softly. "Take the hint," whispered against my lips.

"Oh, you mean me," I said teasingly, reluctantly pulling away.

His lips curled upward as he nodded, "Yes, you." He bumped me lightly toward the couch.

I took another swig. "So there's a dinner at the Toulson house tomorrow night." I sat gracefully with my legs bent just right so there was no indecency. Damn short dress. "I'm formally meeting the parents."

He frowned at that, but nodded. "Go on."

"I figure it's the perfect opportunity for me to check out the inside. See if I can't locate the girls. Then after we go home, you and I can return to get them out. You've got that magic thing you do." I waved a hand in the air in front of me. "Making people disappear. You get in, get the girls out, I keep an eye out for the leech"

"Okay," he took a swallow from the bottle. "How many girls you think are there?"

"At least four. Deacon said his father bought four. But I'm not sure if he has any in addition to those."

"That's a lot of movement for my spell." He was thinking it over.

"I guess I never stopped to think about how it worked. Or that you might not be able to move that many." I paused to think it over, too.

"I can move them, but can they move like you?"

I shrugged. "They're teenagers. They're likely to be scared, or drugged, out of their minds."

"If they make a sound it drops and we are at war, you know?"

I made a face. "So maybe it's not that great of an idea."

"If it gets them out, I'm fine with the idea. But we have to make them understand, or I gotta put a lot into it, and I'll be drained time we get out. I'm willing to take the risk for you, and the girls, Mack. You should know that."

He might be willing, but I didn't know if I was willing for him to take that risk. After another long pull of my beer, I licked my lips. "I can't think of any other night we can get them out. Deacon's planning--" I cut myself off, glancing up at him and away quickly. "He's planning for a night alone with me after dinner. I was thinking I could maybe drug him, make him pass out. Then come help you."

His brow rose briefly and he nodded. "Drug him."

"Gladly."

"I think I can find some cyanide," He grinned.

I elbowed him lightly. "Not quite what I had in mind."

He laughed then. "Okay, okay." he rubbed the spot where my elbow hit for effect.

"Big baby," I smirked and finished off the beer with a satisfied sigh.

"I was hoping you'd kiss me and make it better," he smirked.

"I thought about that," I admitted, angling myself toward him more. "But decided against it because then I'd be here all night."

"So what's the problem?"

"I told him I was going home."

"Gods, Mack," he shook his head, watching me face him. He leaned in and kissed my bare shoulder with a light rake of teeth. "Fine, I'll kiss you and make me better." He chuckled. "What time will I hear from you tomorrow if we are doing this?"

My eyes fluttered closed when his lips touched my skin, flames shooting from the spot to cover every inch of my flesh. I was moments away from tipping forward and getting in his lap...but then he questioned me about tomorrow. I forced myself to sit still and open my eyes. "Umm...I don't know. Late-ish, I assume. Not sure what time dinner will finish, and then I have to deal with Deke."

"Maybe a drug he's allergic to?"

"I wouldn't know that. I was thinking about maybe convincing him to get high with me. Then sneak something in his, he passes out and when I get back pretend to have had a bad trip too."

Slate shook his head. "Well, I'll pick up a few things and be ready to run," he leaned down again. He saw the look and knew the effect he'd had on me. His teeth found my shoulder again.

"You're doing that on purpose," I murmured.

"So?"

My hand dropped to his knee. "You're making it very difficult to remember that I need to be leaving."

"That's the idea..." another nip.

Fingertips squeezed his leg. "Dammit, Slate." I was fading fast, but still had a bit more fight left in me. Still, I leaned into him. "Are you never sated?"

"Are you saying I should stop?"

"You should," I nodded. But that wasn't a yes.

He was inching higher up my shoulder with kisses and nips. "That's not convincing."

"Oh," I breathed, head tipping to the side to give him better access to my neck. "What if I said please?"

"Please?" he chuckled. "No, can't." Up the shoulder to the base of my throat now, hot breath. "Sorry, you are S O L."

My last defense was to tip backward and away but it turned out not to be a defense at all because I was pulling him on top of me. "I can't stay," I warned. "We've got, like, half an hour and then I need to book it."

"I'll see if I can meet your time frame..." he smiled and continued his assault on my neck. I knew he wanted to leave his mark, but he knew that would get me hurt so the kisses moved to my lips. He put what he could into showing me how he felt.

I felt alive beneath his touch. I kissed him back earnestly, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him close, wanting to feel the weight of him all but crush me. I doubted we'd meet the time frame, but every second with him was worth it.