Deacon (Unfinished Hero #4)(90)

“One of the best men I’ve ever met,” Raid told him and that was good to know. Raid was a good man and it was good to have that back.

He still didn’t reply.

“Hanna likes you,” Raid stated.

“No. Your woman loves you. She loves you so much she can’t see straight. She likes me ’cause you like me. She’d like Hitler if you liked Hitler.”

When he was finished talking, he clenched his jaw, the Hitler reference cutting close to the bone and he’d done it to his damned self.

“You believe that, you’re whacked,” Raid returned.

“Never said I was sane, brother.”

“Who said you couldn’t be happy?” Raid retorted, impatience in his tone.

“I’m poison,” Deacon reminded him.

“She did it to herself.”

“I didn’t see it happening.”

“She did it to herself,” Raid repeated.

“I didn’t protect her.”

“She did it to herself,” Raid said again and Deacon lost it.

Uncrossing his arms and curling his fingers around the edge of the bureau, he leaned toward his friend. “Ass in a sling, brother, hangin’ from her hands on a hook, legs tied wide open, * offered, mindlessly takin’ cock. And they were lined up for her, Raiden, lined up to take their turn. All that so she could get her fix.”

Raid flinched, muttering, “Deacon.”

“Charged in there, got her down from that hook, she looked at me, had no clue who I was. No f*ckin’ clue. She sold the rings I gave her to buy heroin, but I gave her those rings, man. She walked down the aisle to me cryin’, she was so happy, and she didn’t know me. Tried to get her out of there, got the beating of a lifetime, took it, fought it, nearly died from it. Through that, she wandered back into that f*ckin’ hellhole to be strung back up, f*cked in the cunt, up her ass, jacked off on, my wife covered in dozens of men’s cum, that shit dripping out of every orifice they could reach, not feelin’ shit but the high or the need for another needle filled with junk. Her husband outside, left in the alley, near dead, and she didn’t give a shit. ”

“That’s it, man, she didn’t give a shit.”

“She was my wife.”

Raid leaned in to his elbows on his knees. “By then, your wife was dead. That piece was nothing and she did it to herself.”

Deacon shook his head. “We’re done talkin’ about this.”

“You said she had good folks. All that was on her.”

“Good folks?” Deacon asked. “Fuck, man, they hid that shit from me. Three stints in rehab before she was twenty. They didn’t say shit. Jeannie sure as f*ck didn’t. I put that rock on her finger, they broke the record plannin’ our wedding, tyin’ her to me so I’d take on her shit. And they didn’t clue me in to any of that.”

“And that’s your problem?” Raid asked. “You told me they were decent. That doesn’t say decent, Deacon. That says they’re bullshit liars, just like she was. They knew you were a good man. They tied your hands. You didn’t know what you were dealing with. How could you do shit for her if you didn’t know she had a problem?”

“Money went missing.”

“And to stop it when you noticed that, she was turning tricks before she got in too deep and sold her soul to the devil. Or in her case, her body.”

“I should never have told you any of this shit,” Deacon ground out.

“You did. Deal with it and explain to me how that means, since she threw herself in the pit of hell, you have to live there with her even when the bitch is dead.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Was your wife.”

“I loved her,” Deacon clipped. “Fuckin’ loved her. Visualize Hanna on a hook, takin’ cock that’s not yours, and tell me you would not take that on, that she was with you and you were happy then she was on that hook and you didn’t stop it.”

Raid shut his mouth. He’d visualized and Deacon hated himself for giving his friend that but he had no choice.

So Deacon was going to give all of it to him so he’d shut the f*ck up.

“You want it all?” Deacon asked but didn’t let him answer. “Told you what I told you but didn’t give it all to you, brother. You got grit, but no man has that much grit, I f*ckin’ know. So I saved you from the nightmare, but here it is.”

He took in a breath and held Raid’s eyes.

“I went back. Twice. Tried again to get her out. Twice. Once, got my ass shot at. By the time I got the firepower to take my back and made a plan to extract, my informant inside told me it was too late. She died on that hook, Raid. Overdose. They reckon she took cock from at least two guys in her dead body before someone figured it out and pulled her down.”

“Jesus Christ,” Raid whispered.

“Yeah. Pretty picture, isn’t it?”

“Brother.”

“Cleaned her with f*ckin’ bleach, dumped her in a ditch. Made the news. Missing woman found dead. Grieving family still relieved because they now have answers. Bullshit. Her parents were relieved the nightmare she made of her life was over. My parents were relieved, hoping the nightmare she made of my life was over. I was not relieved. Buried her, walked away. Walked away from her parents who did not give me the knowledge to find the tools to help my wife. Walked away from everything.”