EMELIA
“Deacon, old pal, lovely to see you, lad,” one of the Irishmen said. “What do you think you're doin' here? And where are ya goin' with the lassie?”
Deacon didn't answer. He stared hard at the gathered men and I could see that he was formulating his plan in his head. He looked at me, trying to tell me something with his eyes – something I wasn't getting. I'd never been in a situation like this before and had no idea what I was doing.
But I knew that if we were going to go down, I was going to go down fighting. I wouldn't be dragged back into that life again. Not when I had all I wanted in the world standing beside me.
When Deacon moved, it was smoothly and it was quickly. Before anybody had even registered what he was doing – let alone react to it – he'd raised his arm and squeezed off a shot. The bullet tore through the man who'd just spoken, a fount of blood spraying from the wound in his shoulder. The Irishman squealed in pain and dropped to the ground, clutching his wounded arm. It was a non-lethal hit – I had to give him credit for that.
But with three others in front of us – and raising their weapons – playtime was over. It was time to shoot to kill.
Tony took several steps toward me just as the other two Irishmen moved on Deacon. I raised my arm and held my gun steady on Tony. He glared at me, shaking with rage, his face dark and his eyes filled with the promise of a painful retribution.
“Don't make me do this,” I said, my hands shaking.
More gunshots and men screaming rang out, shattering the stillness of the night air, but I couldn't look away from Tony. I was afraid that if I allowed my attention to be diverted, he'd move on me and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I had little doubt that Tony would kill me for what I was doing – so there was no way I was going to give him the chance.
No, my gaze remained on Tony, and only Tony, as he walked toward me, his face growing ever darker with each step.
“You wouldn't shoot me, princess,” he said. “You're a lot of things – like an ungrateful little bitch for starters – but you're not a killer. You don't have it in you. I can see the fear in your eyes.”
“Don't call her princess,” Deacon said as he stepped up beside me. “And you should apologize for calling her a bitch, while you're at it.”
I cracked a smile. He remembered how I felt about terms of endearment like that. It was patronizing and condescending, and when someone like Tony used them, it filled me with a deep, abiding anger. I could deal with a lot of things, but being patronized or condescended to were things I couldn't deal with. Wouldn't deal with. From anybody.
I considered taking a play from Deacon's book and aiming for the shoulder as I squeezed off a shot – mostly just to prove to the old son of a bitch that I could indeed pull the trigger. But Tony lunged toward me suddenly and I shot on reflex. The noise the gun made as it went off sounded like a cannon and the shockwave from the recoil reverberated all the way up my arm and into my shoulder. It had a kick stronger than I'd anticipated.
Because it had all happened so fast, Deacon hadn't even reacted in time and I'd been unable to focus on where I was shooting. I didn't have the time to aim as Tony lunged for me. His body collided with mine, knocking me to the ground, and driving the air from my lungs. I screamed as his body pinned mine to the ground. It took me a moment to realize Tony wasn't moving. And until Deacon reached down and pulled the old man off of me, I hadn't even realized where the bullet I'd fired had hit.
Right smack dab in the middle of his chest. His blood was pouring all over me and when he looked into my eyes, I saw pain blended with hate radiating within them. If he'd had the strength, he would have strangled me right then and there.
Tony, while not dead, was going to be soon. If he didn't get help, anyway. But I got the feeling that nobody at my father's house was going to go out of their way for him. I didn't think that anybody would be calling an ambulance – at least, not for a little while.
Deacon hauled me to my feet and I looked down at myself – grimacing at the sight of Tony's blood covering me. I looked up and saw that of the three who'd been standing with Tony, only one of the Irishmen remained. I didn't know why he was still alive, but he was just standing there, looking back at us. He wasn't holding a weapon and he didn't look threatening.
I didn't understand what was happening, but Deacon kept his gun trained on him. The other man though, held his hands up and didn't make any overtly threatening gestures. Simply judging by his body language, I didn't think he was going to be a problem for us – the look on his face told me that he respected Deacon. Liked him.
“Neil, let us past,” Deacon said. “Please. I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want, brother.”
“Your truck is gone, man,” the man named Neil replied. “How are you going to get out of here?”
“We'll find a way,” Deacon replied. “Don't make me shoot you too. You know I don't want to do it, but I will if I have to.”
“You wouldn't – ” But Neil must have seen the look in Deacon's eyes because he stopped talking and looked down at the ground. “I'm sorry it's come to this, brother. I never wanted this. I really didn't.”
“I didn't want it to come to this either, man,” Deacon said. “Trust me on that, Neil. I didn't want this either. I just wanted something – different.”
“Here!” Neil said, tossing something over to him.
Deacon stared down at what was in his hand for a moment before looking back at his friend, a questioning look upon his face. He held up the keyring to me and dropped it into my hand.
“It's one of your cars anyway,” Neil said and smiled. “Figured you might like it back. Should help you get where you're going.”
Deacon thanked Neil and we rushed from the back of the house and toward a car parked out front. Climbing inside quickly, we drove off as fast as humanly possible, leaving my father and my former life behind. For good.
Reaching out, I took Deacon's hand in mine. Things might not be easy from here on out. We were alone and we would struggle. But we had each other, and soon enough, we'd have a child. Maybe several more. Life was already beginning to look up.
“Buenos Aires, here we come, baby,” Deacon said, winking at me.
I smiled as I looked back at him. I was free. For the first time in my life, I was free.
THE END
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