Forever Hidden (Forever Bluegrass #2) (13 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“No,” Deacon said quickly. “You can’t leave. You’re still in danger. What if Vic comes after you again?”

Sydney looked at him, and for the first time saw the shadowed look in his eyes. “Oh, no. Bailey . . . is she dead?”

Deacon swallowed hard. “No, but it’s bad—real bad. It’s the worst trafficking ring I’ve ever seen. We rescued nineteen girls from a shipping container tonight. There were twenty-seven we didn’t get to in time.”

Sydney gasped as she squeezed his hand. She was so excited over love and a treasure she had nearly blocked out the harsh reality of the world. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been so wrapped up in this.”

Deacon shook his head. “No, this brings me back from the darkness. You’re my light, Sydney. And this treasure.”

“What about Bailey?” Sydney asked, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“She’s under their power. The girls call this one man Mr. Fancy Pants. It has to be Vic. He came and got her the other day. Told her he loved her, brought her pretty dresses, and took her to Indiana. I don’t understand it, though. Why Indiana and is it the job that he texted her about?”

“I know,” Sydney said as she leapt up. She grabbed her phone and sent a quick text. A second later her phone pinged, and she grinned. “The football championship is in Indianapolis this week.”

“And major sporting events have the highest level of prostitution and trafficking,” Deacon said as he stood up, too.

“Plus, Patrick and Teddy are going to be there. That seems like a pretty strong coincidence, doesn’t it?” Sydney asked as she started to scroll through her phone again.

“But how can we to get into the parties where Bailey would be?”

“I told you, it’s time to go to Keeneston. But first, I have a phone call I need to make.” Sydney pushed the call button and held the phone to her ear. “Miss Sydney Davies for Allegra Simpson-Williams. It’s urgent.”

Ten minutes later, Sydney had Allegra’s promise that her fashion house located in Atlanta would send over experts to preserve and wrap the wedding dresses in one hour. Further, Allegra promised to have her own transportation team drive them to Wyatt Farm in Keeneston for delivery tomorrow.

“Now that the dresses are taken care of, what about all the rest?” Deacon asked.

“We take it with us,” Sydney said as she began to pack up the rest of the treasure.

“I’ll start packing our things upstairs. We’ll leave as soon as the dresses do. I’ll also call Gentry and let him know what we suspect,” Deacon told her as he started to head upstairs.

“Oh, Deacon?” Sydney called out after him.

“Yes?”

“Do you still have a tux somewhere in your closest?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You better pack it. You won’t get into some of these parties without one.” Sydney went back to packing with gusto. She finally felt as if she could do something to find Bailey. Plus it kept Deacon with her for a couple more days, and right now she would do just about anything to stay with him.

*     *     *

Deacon followed the GPS directions from Atlanta to Keeneston. Sydney had fallen asleep when they had crossed into Tennessee. He looked at the clock. It was almost four in the morning as he drove down the narrow, twisting country road in Sydney’s car. Shadows of cows and horses standing still in the dark pastures gave way to a small main street.

It was eerie. In Atlanta there were clubs and things to do late at night and into the early morning hours. Apparently not in Keeneston. There wasn’t one person on Main Street, and the windows of all the stores were dark except for red, pink, and white twinkle lights and hearts lit up for Valentine’s Day. The stores were cute. Antiques, art studio, The Blossom Café, handmade items, insurance office, law office, bank, Southern Charms, and a feed store lined the short street.

And just like that, he was through Keeneston. He followed the road another couple of miles and turned off onto a private road but was stopped by a gate.

“Syd, I think we’re here,” Deacon said gently as he rubbed her shoulder to wake her.

“Hmm?” Sydney mumbled as sleep tempted her again.

“I said, we’re here. I need your gate code,” Deacon said a little louder this time.

Sydney struggled to sit up, reached to the rearview mirror, and pressed one of the buttons. The gate swung open, and Sydney fell back asleep. Deacon drove down the driveway lined with bare trees. He bet it would be just like the Twin Oaks drive in the spring. Then out of the darkness came a two-story plantation-style house. The only difference was this one was new and slightly more modern in design.

Deacon pressed the other button on the rearview mirror and the garage door opened. He pulled the car in and turned it off. He headed to the door and wondered if there was an alarm. He tried it, and the door silently opened. He shook his head. He’d have to make her start setting the alarm she had. Instead of lecturing her on safety, he went back to the car and scooped Sydney into his arms.

“Where’s your bedroom, darlin’?” he asked quietly as she snuggled her head against his chest.

“Upstairs. Far end,” Sydney mumbled against his shirt.

Deacon carried her up the stairs and to the bedroom at the end of the hall. He stepped inside and walked to the bed. Slowly, he lowered Sydney. Her arms let go of him and grabbed her pillow instead.

“Stay,” Sydney sighed.

Deacon’s heart pounded along with something farther south on his body. “Stay? The night with you?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’ll grab our bags and be right back.” Deacon leaned over and placed a kiss on Sydney’s temple. She sighed happily, her lips curved up into a smile, and Deacon felt like a hero.

He bounded down the stairs and out into the garage. It took a bit of work, but he got the trunk into the house and went back for their bags. Closing the door, he set the alarm to sleep mode and felt better about having all that treasure in the house. He could enjoy the night with Sydney without fear of someone catching them by surprise.

By the time he got upstairs, Sydney had stripped out of her clothing and was asleep in a lace-edged white bra and—he hoped—no panties. Deacon stripped to his boxer briefs and pulled down the covers to slide into bed. Sydney rolled over and flung her arm over his chest, a leg over his, and moved her head to the crook of his shoulder. Deacon leaned down and kissed her forehead. He was the luckiest man in the entire universe tonight.

*     *     *

Deacon awoke to the feel of feather-light kisses to his jaw. There was a warm weight on his chest, and he moved to wrap it in his arms. Sydney was chest to chest with him, tracing kisses along his face. He groaned when she shifted, her thigh close to a very active part of his anatomy.

“Good morning, Deacon,” she whispered seductively.

Deacon opened his eyes then and looked into Sydney’s smiling face. “Good morning, darlin’.”

He didn’t know what to say, but sometimes words were overrated. He wanted to tell her he hoped to spend every morning like this, that he didn’t want to go back to Atlanta without her, that she was even more wonderful than Mrs. Wyatt’s letters had said.

Sydney bent down and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. Her long hair fell like a curtain around them. Right now there were only the two of them—him and her—and that was the way he liked it.

Deacon moved his hand down her back to give her ass a squeeze. Sydney moaned and moved her lips to his. When she had wakened that morning, encircled in his embrace, she knew she was done with this little game they had been playing. It had moved past fun and into serious the other night on his couch.

The electricity from the lightning storm that night was nothing compared to what happened when they came together. His hand moved up her back, and with a flick of his fingers he unhooked her bra. Sydney moaned her approval, but Deacon broke the kiss.

“What . . .?” Sydney didn’t finish the question as he flipped her onto her back.

“You know it, too, don’t you?” Deacon asked breathlessly as he slowly lowered one of her bra straps.

She didn’t bother denying it. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Yes.”

“When I make love to you, it isn’t for today. It isn’t for this week or even this month. It’s forever. I’m done hiding my feelings for you, Sydney,” Deacon said with a voice rough with emotion and restraint. Sydney could tell he was controlling himself, giving her an out if she wanted it.

“You were perfect, Deacon. I would never have given you a chance if you hadn’t let me come to you. I love you. I know it’s wrong to fall in love so quickly, but I did. I love you.”

“Love is never wrong, darlin’. And this isn’t fast. This has been coming for five years. For five years I’ve heard about you. I fell in love with the woman in the letters, but she’s nothing compared to the real thing. I love you, Sydney.” Deacon grinned as he peeled her bra from her. “Now, enough talking. I’m more a man of action.”

As Sydney’s nipple disappeared into Deacon’s hot, wet mouth, she agreed. No more talking. Screaming, groaning, and gasping—yes. And that’s exactly what she did when Deacon stripped her panties from her and slid into her.

*     *     *

Deacon smiled as he dried off. This was the best day of his life. The woman he loved returned his feelings. He’d made love to Sydney and had scratches on his back to remind him of it. Sydney stepped out of the shower he had just vacated and licked her lips. Twice had been nice, but three times was a distinct possibility. The first time had been in bed, the second in the shower, and the third was shaping up to be in the kitchen after he cooked her breakfast.

“I’ll head downstairs and start on breakfast,” Deacon said as he stepped into a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else.

“Sounds good. I’ll be just a second.”

Deacon laughed when she swatted his bottom with her towel. Happiness, contentment, and love . . . all the things he’d been looking for. It filled his spirit as he went down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. As he whipped up some scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast, he tried not to think of what was next. He was from Atlanta, and she was from here. How were they going to make it work?

“This is perfect,” he heard Sydney say. He looked up from the stove and decided the
how
wasn’t important. What was important was that they were together, and he would do anything to make that happen.

Sydney sat on a barstool at the countertop in her royal blue silk robe. Deacon stepped up to her and kissed her. His hand slipped inside her robe, and he smiled against her lips. No bra.

“Are you hungry?” Deacon asked as he stepped away to put breakfast on the two plates.

“In many ways.” Syd winked.

Sydney and Deacon ate breakfast while they laughed and talked. It was one of her favorite things to do with him. He had a sharp sense of humor and an intelligence that she enjoyed. He would listen too. She could be talking about fabric types, and he would listen just as much as if she were talking about what she wanted to do with him after breakfast.

“That was delicious. Thank you,” Sydney said as she pushed the empty plate away.

Deacon turned in his chair, his eyes molten with desire. “Ready for the best part of breakfast?”

His hands were at the tie of the robe, his lips working magic as they trailed down her collarbone, but the sound of the alarm going off made them jump apart.

“Get back,” Deacon ordered as his hand reached for a knife in the block on the counter. He shoved her behind him as Sydney peered around him to see the muzzle of a gun come around the corner. Deacon shoved her behind him again, and then all she could see were his shoulders.

“Drop the knife!” a man yelled above the alarm.

“No. You’ll have to kill me to get to her,” Deacon said with ice dripping from his words.

“Happily. What have you done to her? I’ll kill you slowly if you harmed one hair . . .”

Sydney rolled her eyes and went to turn off the alarm. The two men were still threatening each other when she walked back into the room.

“Deacon, put the knife down,” she said as she walked toward the other man in the room.

“What are you doing?” Deacon lunged and grabbed her, pulling her to him.

The other man snarled, and Sydney let out a frustrated breath. “Dad, does it look like Deacon’s trying to hurt me?”

“Dad?”

“Deacon?”

The men spoke at the same time. They looked at each other again, and Deacon let go of her arm and placed the knife on the table.

“Dad.” Sydney crossed her arms and waited for her father to put his gun away. “Thank you. Deacon, this is my father, Marshall Davies. Dad, this is my boyfriend, Deacon McKnight.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, and Sydney thought maybe she should have confiscated the gun instead.

“Boyfriend?” her father said with no small amount of hostility.