The Darkest Corner (Gravediggers #1)(99)

The blood was more than noticeable now, and Deacon noticed some had gotten on his clothes. They rushed the gurney back to the ambulance and got Egorov loaded inside just as the first news camera made it to them.



       
         
       
        

They all noticed the black bag strapped to Egorov. And they all noticed how close the bullet had come to going through the bomb instead of flesh and bone.

"Hell of a shot." Axel let out a low whistle through his teeth.

The comm unit in Deacon's ear crackled and he heard the sweet sound of Tess's voice. "That was insane!" she said. "I watched the whole thing on national television and I still have no idea what happened. If I hadn't heard you say that he was dead I never would've had a clue."

"Marry me, Tess," Deacon said. He'd had no idea he was going to say the words. They'd just popped out. But now that he'd said them, he desperately wanted to know the answer to the question.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, clearly stunned.

"He said 'Will you marry me?' " Elias said from wherever the hell he was.

"Yes, I believe that's what he said," Dante agreed.

"Y'all shut up," Tess said. "You're ruining my moment."

"Don't mind us," Axel said. "We're just along for the ride."

Deacon didn't let Tess hear his laughter, afraid she'd take it the wrong way. He didn't want to get her temper riled at a moment like this.

"I asked you to marry me," he repeated. "What do you say?"

"Wow," she said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Tess," Elias said. "Just give the man an answer. We're all on pins and needles here."

This time it was her laughter he heard over the comm units. "I'd hate to leave you in such suspense. I'll marry you, Deacon Tucker. God help you, I'll marry you."





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR




Six months later . . .

Tess walked the long hallway of the second floor, peeking in the finished rooms and wondering if she'd made the right decision.

These weren't the rooms that she'd known since she'd lived there. These were the rooms of a home. The renovations had been finished only the week before, and the top two floors were now as spectacular as the bottom. She saw the swish of a black tail as the cat slunk inside the bedroom at the far end of the hall, but she turned and went up the stairs to her suite of rooms.

The memories there were strong, especially of her and Deacon-as he'd demolished her bathroom, teased her unmercifully, or stripped her bare and made love to her until the sun peeked through the big glass windows.

Her life had been irrevocably changed. She'd seen and done things she could never unsee or undo. She knew the truth. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't fear or doubt. Fear for his life. For hers. For the family they'd make one day. 

The only thing that mattered was that Deacon was her home. Wherever that may be.

"Deep thoughts," came a gravelly voice from the doorway.

She turned and smiled at him and held out her hand. His expression was solemn, but he took her hand and squeezed it once.

"They did a good job on the renovations," she said. "Much sturdier," she said, bouncing up and down lightly on the new floor.

It was a good space. The floors had been replaced with gleaming oak, and the wallpaper had been stripped. The walls were a soft ivory, and the ornamental ceiling had been restored to its full glory. The windows let in lots of light, and with the light paint and floors, the room was open and airy and comfortable. The king-size bed sat intimidatingly against the far wall, the duvet soft and white, the pillows mounded up at the headboard. The bathroom and sitting room were equally beautiful and spacious. And she smiled as she saw one of Deacon's T-shirts draped over the chair in the corner. It was still theirs. Only theirs.

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"I want to marry you," he said. "We've waited long enough. You've won that bet at the Clip n' Curl a hundred times by now."

"I've already told you I'd marry you," she said, looking at the ring on her finger. "Set a date and find a preacher. I'll be there."

"You've been planning this wedding for the last six months," he grumbled. "You made me buy a suit."

Tess rolled her eyes. Men. "Then maybe you should just wait until Saturday and show up at the church on time. It'll be here before you know it."

"Smart-ass," he said, smacking her behind.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked, seriously now. "Do you believe we'll be safe?"

"I don't know," he said, pulling her down to sit on the bed next to him. "I've learned from experience to never take anyone at their word. It's too dangerous. Would I risk leaving if I felt it was the right thing to do? I don't know that either. I worry about your safety. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything ever happened to you."