Page 27 of The Captive (The Kelley Legacy #5)
They were climbing a narrow stairwell up to Shane O’Neal’s apartment, and Lana hadn’t been able to fight her unease since the moment they’d arrived in Chicago.
It didn’t help that O’Neal lived above a gun store, which he apparently owned and ran.
She stuck close to Deacon, wrinkling her nose at the musty stench in the air.
“Yes, we can trust him,” Deacon answered for the tenth time. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “We’ll be in and out, okay? Ten minutes tops.”
They reached the top of the stairs and paused in front of a weathered wooden door that swung open before they could knock. Deacon had discreetly pointed out one of the cameras at the bottom of the stairwell, so O’Neal knew they were here. Apparently Deacon’s “friend” took security very seriously.
Not his appearance, though, Lana noticed, as she laid eyes on the man Deacon claimed to trust. Shane O’Neal had scruffy reddish-brown hair that came down to his shoulders and an unkempt beard that devoured his entire face.
He wore camo pants with a red stain on the knee—she hoped it wasn’t blood—and a black T-shirt that boasted at least six holes in various places.
His pale blue eyes were sharp, however, out of sync with his couch-potato looks.
“Were you followed?” was the first thing O’Neal asked in a faint Irish brogue.
Deacon shook his head.
“Good.” The door opened wider. “Come in.”
Lana’s eyed widened as she got a good look at the interior of O’Neal’s flat.
There was a surprisingly spacious living area, made all the more spacious by the complete lack of furniture in it.
No chairs, couches, coffee table. Evidently O’Neal didn’t spend much time here, unless he came in to admire the vast amount of rifles hanging on one entire wall.
The adjacent wall featured a collection of swords. Pleasant guy.
O’Neal led them down a corridor lit only by a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. They passed two doors, both closed, and finally entered a large room filled with computer monitors, metal shelving and enormous steel crates.
“So is this your girl?” O’Neal asked in an indifferent voice as he moved toward a metal file cabinet jammed between two computer desks.
“A friend,” Deacon answered vaguely. “Lana, meet Shane. Shane, Lana.”
She managed a faint hello, all the while irritated by Deacon’s introduction.
A friend? Try the mother of his unborn child!
Obviously her numerous attempts at conversational connections had failed miserably.
He seemed just as determined to keep her at arm’s length.
To deposit her on her family’s doorstep and disappear from her life.
O’Neal pulled a fat manila envelope from the cabinet. “I assume this will do?”
Deacon took the envelope and peered inside. Lana craned her neck, raising a brow when she caught a quick glimpse of the thick stack of bills. She forced herself not to ask why O’Neal had huge envelopes of money lying around the house. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know anyway.
The men didn’t say much as O’Neal proceeded to open a crate and rummage through a scary amount of ammunition clips. “Still using the .35 mm?” O’Neal asked.
Deacon nodded. “And the .45.”
O’Neal tossed a dozen clips into a small black shoulder bag, then handed it to Deacon. “Where you headed?” he asked, not sounding too interested.
“Montana,” Lana said before she could stop herself.
She immediately got a dark scolding look from Deacon. Shoot. She shouldn’t have revealed their destination. Deacon might trust this man, but he’d specifically told her in the car not to offer any details.
“And then Oregon,” she added belatedly. “My family has a house on the coast.”
“Uh-huh,” O’Neal said, unconcerned.
At least he didn’t seem to care one way or the other where they were heading.
This entire friendship was kind of baffling.
These two men had worked together on several assignments, yet they acted like complete strangers.
And O’Neal was just handing Deacon money and ammo like they were Tic-Tacs. Without even questioning it.
“I got the car, too,” O’Neal told Deacon. He reached into his pocket and extracted a set of keys. “It’s parked out back. Blue pickup.”
“Thanks.” Deacon put his hand on Lana’s arm and took a sideways step to the door. “I owe you, man.”
“And I’ll collect,” O’Neal said, grinning for the first time since they arrived.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
And then, just like that, they were ushered to the front door, saying goodbye and descending the mildew-scented stairwell again.
“That’s it?” Lana hissed.
“Like I said, in and out,” Deacon replied with a shrug.
She remained dumbfounded. “Yeah, but…he gave us all that money, the bullets, the car, without even asking what we needed it for.”
“That’s how it works. The mercenary community is fairly tight-knit. You’re in a jam, a fellow soldier will bail you out, no questions asked. And then you return the favor.”
They rounded the building toward the gravel lot in the back, and sure enough, a dark blue pickup waited for them.
“So you don’t help each other out of the goodness of your hearts?” she asked, slightly confused.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “You’re assuming we have hearts, sweetheart.” He clicked on the car remote to unlock the doors.
Lana bit the inside of her cheek as she slid into the passenger seat.
She didn’t understand this world. These people.
When she helped someone, she didn’t expect anything in return.
She did it because she genuinely wanted to make things better for the other person.
In Deacon’s world, however, nothing came free. Or cheap.
She suddenly experienced a burst of guilt, wondering what Shane O’Neal would demand of Deacon in exchange for this afternoon’s encounter.
“I forgot, I got you something when we made that pit stop in South Bend,” Deacon said after he started the engine.
Surprise slid through her. “You did?”
He twisted his big body around and rummaged through the duffel he’d tossed in the backseat, turning a moment later with a small pill bottle in his hand. Looking awkward, he handed it to her.
Lana stared down at the label, battling between shock and pure joy. Prenatal vitamins. He’d actually bought her prenatal vitamins. Did that mean… Was he beginning to come around about the baby?
“Thank you,” she murmured, her chest tight with emotion.
He shrugged. “I figured you’d need ’em.”
She curled her fingers around the pill bottle, suddenly needing to cling to it. Maybe the tender gesture didn’t have any deeper meaning. Maybe he’d only done it to make himself feel better, to know she’d be taking care of herself after he disappeared from her life.
But she couldn’t help thinking that it did mean something. That Deacon had indeed heard everything she’d been saying and was finally beginning to see that his future could hold so much more than he’d always believed. Not just his future, but their future.
The impulsive notion gave her pause. She fixed her gaze out the window, watching the scenery on Lakeshore Drive whiz past. She suddenly had to ask herself exactly what she wanted from this man. To simply be a father to their child? Or did she want more?
She closed her eyes, a barrage of images swirling through her brain. She imagined Deacon’s strong arms gently cradling their baby, his rugged face soft with emotion. Deacon talking gruffly to their baby, looking down with pride.
And then the fantasy took a different turn. She pictured herself waking up every morning with her head pressed against Deacon’s rock-hard chest. Whispering to each other as they fell asleep in each other’s arms. Sitting at the kitchen table while he cooked for her.
Her eyelids snapped open. Oh, lord. This wasn’t just about the baby. This was about her. About them.
“Oh, my God,” she blurted out.
Deacon sharply swiveled his head. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard, searching for her voice. “Nothing,” she finally said. “I just never realized how beautiful the view of the lake is.”
His brows furrowed, as if he didn’t quite believe her, or know how to respond. Eventually he just shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice, I guess.”
Lana glued her gaze to the window again, trying to actually focus on the lake this time in the hope of erasing the terrifying thought that had crashed into her head before her outburst.
But it was impossible to erase. It lingered in her brain, making her a little lightheaded and a lot confused.
Was it possible?
Was she actually falling in love with Deacon Holt?