Cruel Devil: Chapter 11

Deacon massages his throat and I get the feeling he’s working his way up to telling me something I’m not going to like to hear. When the seconds turn into minutes, I shift my focus back to applying my sunscreen. Seriously, if I don’t, I will fry.

‘I didn’t mean to ghost you.’

I put a little lotion on two fingers and massage it through the crisscross ties running down the front of the suit. I look ridiculous doing it but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

‘So why did you?’ I ask. My feelings aren’t hurt by it, to be honest. I have plenty of friends and I’m not actively searching for more. I guess I mostly just find it annoying. I don’t get why guys only see value in women if there’s a chance of them getting laid. It’s bullshit if you ask me.

“Look, I don’t want to cause drama and shit.”

I wait. I don’t know what he’s looking for from me, but I’m not going to help him out here. He approached me, so if this is going to be an issue—him talking to me—he’s just as welcome to walk away.

“A few of the guys on the team aren’t cool with the idea of us hanging out,” he tells me and I stiffen. Dammit. Because, of course, Dominique didn’t forget about the bruise after he left the classroom. I mean, he had no problem forgetting, but not Deacon. Not when it gave him the opportunity to be an even bigger asshole.

I grind my teeth together and ask, “Was it all three of them?” If it was, then I have three Devils to get back at instead of just the one.

Deacon shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” He pauses. “Not in the beginning at least. I think only my QB had a problem with it, but those three are tight—“

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“He your ex or something?” Deacon asks.

I snort. “Definitely not. We’ve never dated and trust me when I say, we never will.”

One dark brow raises over the rim of his glasses. “You sure about that? The way Price was acting, it’s the way a jealous ex would be if he caught someone sniffing around his girl.”

My lip curls. “First, I’m not a dog. No one is sniffing anywhere. And second, yes, I’m sure about that. I’ve known him since we were kids. We’re all sort of in the same friend group and he’s roommates with my older brother. He takes the term ‘overprotective’ to the extreme.” They all do. They’re the bonus brothers I never asked for. Well, except for Dominique. I mean, I still didn’t ask for him. That part is true. But of all the guys, he is the one I most definitely do not see as a brother. Even more so after what happened between us earlier this week.

Asshole.

Deacon nods, and I hate that I still can’t see his eyes, so I decide to do something about it. Reaching up, I pluck the shades off his face, folding them down and setting them beside me.

“So, what did those three knuckleheads do, exactly? I’m assuming threats were involved, or did he go on a power trip and threaten to have you removed from the team?”

A flash of fear appears on his face, but it’s gone a second later. Shit. Dominique really got to him.

“No. Not that. I’m still on the team.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he visibly swallows. “He can’t get me kicked off, anyway.”

I inwardly groan. Why are the pretty ones so dumb? Dominique could absolutely get Deacon removed from the team. All it would take is one phone call to his parents, a sizable donation, and boom. Goodbye, Suncrest U. Hello, community college.

I decide not to tell him that because he seems a little freaked out as it is. If you didn’t grow up in Sun Valley, then it’s safe to assume you don’t know how big of a deal Dominique’s family is. Deacon probably knows who the Prices are, the same way everyone in the U.S. knows who Bill Gates is. But, if you saw him walking down the street, you’d probably walk past him none the wiser, and it’s not like you’d know who his kids were or what they looked like.

“Yo, D!” someone shouts, pulling Deacon’s attention. “Is that her? The chick you got your ass kicked for?” He gives me a heated look, biting his fist. “Damn, man. I get it.”

“Reed, fuck off,” Deacon snarls right as I give the guy a one-fingered salute.

“Come on, man. No need to be like that. I was just complimenting your girl. I’d tap that for sure.” He makes a thrusting motion with his hips and Deacon groans, covering his face with his hand.

“I apologize on behalf of my idiot frat brother. You probably won’t believe me, but he’s actually a pretty cool guy when he’s not wasted like he is now.”

Yeah. Not so sure about that but I leave it alone.

“He said you got your ass kicked. That was because of me?”

He sighs. “It’s nothing. Can we drop it?”

Uh, no. No, we cannot drop it. I told Dominique it was an accident. Obviously he didn’t let it go, but I’d expect him to throw his weight around. Maybe threaten Deacon or try to intimidate him somehow. Physically assaulting him is taking it to another level. Why was he so riled up about this?

“I’m going to need a play by play. I can get that from you or from some of your brothers who, by the sounds of it, are in the know. Up to you.”

His jaw flexes, but instead of telling me what happened he asks, “Did you lie and tell him I hurt you?”

“Excuse me?”

He turns narrowed eyes my way. “I’ve gone over what happened in my head a few times and Dominique said I hurt you. Left a bruise but,” he shakes his head. “I never hit you. I don’t hit women. I’m trying to figure out why you’d tell him otherwise.”

His nostrils flare and damn, he looks pissed. All over again, I get the feeling he isn’t someone safe. It’s like he hides this dangerous edge about him under layers of confidence and charisma.

“Well?” he snaps.

I lift my arm in answer. When he sees the still purple mark, he grabs my arm and tugs it closer, taking me with it since, well, it’s sort of attached. I all but fall into his lap, but he doesn’t even notice. His eyes lock on my skin. Flexing his fingers, he wraps them around my arm in the exact same spot before cursing and shoving my arm away.

“I didn’t tell him you hit me. I didn’t even say this came from you.” I sit back and tuck my legs beneath me. “He saw us talking when you walked me to the athletics building. Then he saw the bruise. My poker face is pretty awesome. Sorry about that. He asked if it came from you and well …” I trail off.

“When we collided?” he asks.

I nod.

He sucks on his teeth. “I grabbed you. Harder than I should have. I get why you got all jumpy after that when I tugged on your hand. I,” He pauses. “It wasn’t on purpose. I mean, leaving that mark. Hurting you.” He hangs his head. “I am not that guy. I’m not to be that guy.”

“Have you ever been that guy before?” I ask, needing to know if he’s safe. If he’s someone I should be careful around.

He shakes his head, and I exhale a relieved breath. ‘No. My old man was. But I won’t ever allow myself to become a monster the way he was.’ There is steely determination in his voice. ‘I’m sorry. We’re getting into deep shit when we barely know each other.’ He chuckles, but it’s forced.

“It’s all good. And thanks. For the apology, I mean.”

He nods.

“I still want that play by play, though,” I remind him.

I wait. He tips back his beer, his throat working as he takes a long pull.

“Stalling will get you nowhere.”

He grunts and then shakes his head. “We had some words. It’s over now.”

“Hey, Reed?” I call out. I stand and scan the backyard, looking for Deacon’s frat brother who brought this all up in the first place.

Deacon hisses. “Kasey, drop it.”

“Yo!” Reed hollars.

“I have questions.” I nod my head and indicate for him to come over. He says a few more words to the guys he was talking to before slapping one on the back and heading our way.

“Kasey—” There’s a warning in Deacon’s voice. It’s cute. I mean if I don’t listen when Dominique gets all growly, why would I listen now?

“You’re welcome to tell me yourself,” I remind him.

He presses his lips into a firm line. Alrighty then.

As soon as Reed is close I say, “What happened with Deacon and Dominique Price?”

Reed whistles. “Aw, man. That was some rough shit.” He ignores the death stare Deacon is giving him and dives into his recount of Tuesday’s events. Dominique getting in Deacon’s face. Choking him. How Deacon nearly passed out.

Deacon is quiet the entire time, chin down and shoulders slumped.

“And then the other guy, what’s his name again?” He snaps his fingers before answering his own question. “E! That’s what all the jocks call him. So Dominique is walking away, point made, am I right?” He wiggles his brows. “When his buddy, E, starts talking in Spanish and punches Deacon while he’s still on the ground. It was fucking savage.”

Deacon groans. “Thanks for the recount, man. Appreciate it.”

Reeds misses the sarcasm in Deacon’s voice.

“Emilio punched you?” I askThat surprised me the most.

Deacon sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think he or Valdez knew why Dominique was in my face. They were trying to haul him off me at first. Talk him down and shit.” His mouth tightens. “After Dominique made his point, he warned me off you and mentioned that,” he points his beer toward my arm, “Chavez blew a gasket and clocked me. Now that I see it, can’t say I really blame him. I’d be pissed too if someone hurt a girl I cared about.”

“I’m sorry. The guys can be overprotective.”

“It’s all good now. Like I said. It’s done.”

“Fuck no, it’s not. D, you haven’t told her about practices, man.”

“Shut the fuck up, bro,” he grinds out, but Reed is drunk, making him oblivious to Deacon’s warning.

“What’s going on in practice?”

It’s Reed who answers. “Deacon is getting his ass handed to him. All day, every day. Left tackles aren’t protecting him. He’s getting sacked damn near every play he runs. It’s fucking brutal.”

My eyes widen. “You’re kidding?” Why wasn’t his team watching his back? The quarterback was the most vulnerable player on the field. One wrong hit and he could be seriously injured.

“Nope. Price’s shoulder is fucked up, right?” Wait, it is? What happened to his shoulder? “So all he’s doing in practice is throwing. Him and Valdez run drills while Deacon starts on the field. Five plays in on day one and it dawns on Deacon that protection is bad and it’s staying bad. He starts to scramble when he gets the ball. Man doesn’t want to get hit.”

Deacon is rigid, every muscle in his face drawn tight. He doesn’t like hearing this.

“This shit goes on for three days,” Reed says, waving three fingers in the air. “And then out of nowhere, Price takes to the field, smacks our boy here upside the head, and tells him, ‘

It was solid advice but Deacon isn’t having it. He’s pissed.”

“Can you blame me?” Deacon snaps.

Reed lifts both hands in the air. “Nope. I’d be an asshole, too. Maybe not to the dude’s face like that, but,” he shrugs. “Anyway, Hunt is mouthing off. He tells Price he’s playing dirty, fucking with his protection, and damn, you should have seen the look on Price’s face. He told Deacon if he wanted protection, give them someone worth protecting. And if he doesn’t like getting hit, then go play fucking tennis.”

I wince. Dominique’s never been one to mince words. “That was harsh.”

“But, effective,” Reed smirks.

I turn to Deacon, who’s still glaring, but when he sees me looking he nods. “It did the job,” he sighs. “Got my head out of my ass and back in the game.”

“And made you a damn better quarterback. Deacon learned in three days what takes most quarterbacks years to figure out, and he’s not buckling under the pressure. He’s playing smart.”

“Has Dom backed off? Is your defensive line helping you out, now?”

Deacon snorts. “No. I’m still on Prices’s shit list. But now,” he shrugs, “I do my part to not get hit.”

“So, he’s still getting hit a lot.” Reed supplies and Deacon shoots him another glare. “Hey, don’t get pissy with me, my friend. You’re just mad because that asshole made you a better player and you don’t like it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Deacon finishes his beer and stands. “I need another drink. You?”

“Uh, sure.” He nods and I watch as he heads over to the coolers the girls placed near the pool. Once he’s out of earshot, I turn back to Reed and ask, “What’s he going to do? Getting sacked in practice is one thing, but he can’t be left defenseless in a game. He’ll end up seriously hurt.”

Reed gives me a sobering look. “I think he’s hoping you can help him out with that.”

Me? What the hell was I supposed to do?