Title: Blood & Bones: Deacon
Series: Blood Fury MC #4
Author: Jeanne St. James
Genre: Contemporary/MC Romance
Release Date: November 7, 2020
Cover Design: Golden Czermak @ FuriousFotog
Cover Model: Joe Adams
Sometimes a challenge comes along that can either make or break you…
Deacon has a great life. A loyal brotherhood within the Blood Fury MC. A successful bail bonds business he runs with his cousin, Judge. A faithful dog. Heâs also an expert at seducing the ladies. Heâs got the looks. Heâs got the charm. And heâs got the skill.
Or at least he thought he did. Until he met his match. A woman who not only resists him, but challenges him at every turn.Â
As an expert bounty hunter, heâs been hired to capture a violent fugitive. Dealing with a dangerous man is one thing, but dealing with a stubborn woman is quite another. And the victim just happens to be her younger sister.
For Deacon, winning over a woman has never been this difficult. The more she fights his âcharm,â the more determined he is not to give up. This is one war he canât afford to lose, not only for her, but with locating the fugitive before he finds his victim.Â
Itâs a challenge heâs willing to take on, as long as it doesnât destroy him first.
Note: Blood & Bones: Deacon is the fourth book in the Blood Fury MC series. As always, this book has no cheating, no cliffhanger and has an HEA. Itâs recommended to read this series in order.
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âFour fuckinâ days.â
He lifted one eyelid and stared at his giant of a cousin who was filling the doorway of Deaconâs office.
He had his feet kicked up on his desk with his ankles crossed, his arms crossed over his chest and heâd been trying to take a little snooze. He guessed that wasnât going to happen any time soon. He reluctantly lifted his other eyelid.
Judge apparently had a burr up his ass today.
Deacon just might be that burr.
âLast I checked there are seven days in a week, not four. Learn to count, cuz.â
Judge took a step into the office and shoved Deaconâs feet off his desk. âFour fuckinâ days to do a job that shoulda taken two.â
âGot sidetracked.â
âYeah, like normal. By pussy.â
âIt was decent pussy.â Otherwise he wouldâve been home a day earlier.
âGlad you were havinâ fun while my ass was back here takinâ our business seriously.â
âHey, I got the job done and the money should be hittinâ our account any day now.â
Judge only grunted.
His cousin and business partner couldnât argue that because it was true. They were getting a nice little chunk of change for Deacon finding a fugitive out in the boonies of northern Pennsylvania. The skip had been hiding out in a hunting cabin in the woods, where cell phone coverage was sketchy, and the neighbors consisted of mostly white-tail deer, black bear and squirrels. And a few backwoods rednecks.
Despite that, Deacon managed to track down the bail jumper, get him cuffed and deliver him to the nearest police station for the bondsman to come haul his ass back to Jersey.
It actually only took him a day and a half. But Deacon wasnât bringing up that point right now. Not when he had a scowling giant standing a couple feet away from him.
Fee-fi-fo-fum.
âWhatâs up your ass anyway? Is Cassie findinâ herself unsatisfied with your baby carrot cock and forcinâ you to fuck your Fleshlight again?â
âGot nothinâ to do with Cassie.â
âThen, why you beinâ a dick?â
Judge planted his knuckles on Deaconâs desk and leaned over until they were face to face. ââCause I can.â
âWhatever. Be Mr. Grumpy McGrumpFace all you want. I still wuv you.â He puckered his lips and made kissing sounds at Judge. âYou need a hug?â
âNeed you to take your fuckinâ job seriously.â
âThis ainât a job, Judge. Itâs my business, too.â
âThen fuckinâ act like it!â his cousin bellowed.
Justice, his American Bulldog, got up from lying at Deaconâs feet to come around the desk. He nudged Judge with his nose.
âJussie donât like you yellinâ, just sayinâ.â
âThen stop makinâ me do it.â
Deaconâs cell phone rang and vibrated at the same time. Unknown Number popped up on his screen. He snagged the phone off his desk and put it to his ear. âDeacon Edwards, skip tracer extraordinaire and all around awesome badass.â
He grinned as Judge rolled his green eyes.
âThis Justice Bail Bonds?â the male with a heavy accent on the other end asked.
He sat straight up in his chair. âYeah, it is.â
âThis is Anthony Bianchi from Bianchi Bail Bonds…â
âOkay?â Deacon hit the speaker button on his phone and placed his cell on the desk so Judge could listen, too.
âFrom Philly,â the man finished.
So, that was the accent. Fucking Philly. He hated that city. It was almost like Jersey, but way worse. It was Jerseyâs sweaty armpit.
Even so, the guy was acting like they should have heard about Bianchi Bail Bonds. Like they were famous or something.
âYeah, so…â Deacon prodded.
âYeah, so got ya numba from anotha bondsman. He said youâre good at trackinâ down these fuckwads when they skip.â
Well, that sounded like a glowing review. His eyes met Judgeâs. âYeah, Iâm good.â
âI need betta than good.â
âIâm betta than good,â Deacon repeated with a smirk.
There was a pause on the other end of the call. âYou makinâ fun of my accent?â
He nodded while answering, âNope. So, what dâyou need from us?â
âGot a skip that might end up in your area. This guyâs a real piece of work, though. Domestic abuse. Sexual assault. Attempted murder. How tha fucka got bond, who fuckinâ knows. Probably some asshole judge whoâs worried about tha manâs reputation ratha than the victimâs right to live without fea.â
Fea? Deacon rolled his eyes. For fuckâs sake, fear.
This dude was worried about victimâs rights? He was making scratch off that âfucka.â
âAlso, tha assholeâs got no problem with witness intimidation.â
âSo, heâs dangerous,â Deacon concluded.
âThatâs what Iâm sayinâ,â Anthony said. âHeâs been in and out of jail, likes to use and abuse women. Sweet talks âem for a while, gets in good with âem, then boom, runs up their credit cards, wipes out their bank accounts, andâs got no problem thinkinâ heâs a man by makinâ a woman do what she donât wanna do. I got two sistas, I donât got time for that kinda trash, hear what Iâm sayinâ?â
âYeah, I hear you,â Deacon muttered. He didnât have time for that kind of trash, either. Jemma might be his cousin, but she was more like a sister to him and he wouldnât want a man doing that to her. Or any other woman.
âAnyhow, heâs bad fuckinâ news. That means if you take this job and you see âim, you gotta watch yourself. Make sure you got protection. I wouldnât put it past âim to take a shot at ya. I wouldnât put it past him to take out tha woman. Which is why Iâm callinâ ya.â The man hacked a couple of times, not bothering to cover the phone when he did so. âLast woman he fucked up and drained dry is now up near you in Mansfield. Probably tryinâ to hide out âtil the trial. But now the mothefuckaâs probably lookinâ for her to either convince her to drop the charges or make her disappea.â
Like swim with the fishes type of disappearing?
âYou notify Mansfield PD?â Deacon asked him.
âYeah, first call I made.â
âThey probably donât have enough people to sit on her full time.â
âThatâs why you were my second call.â
Deacon could hear the unspoken âdumbassâ on the end of that. âWouldnât it be smarter to get her a damn bodyguard?â
âProlly, but that ainât my problem. My problemâs findinâ tha fucka and deliverinâ him to the court and gettinâ my fuckinâ money back. Iâm a business, not a babysitta. The victim has to look out for her own ass. It was her fault for gettinâ involved with this putz in tha first place.â
So, Bianchi was saying the victim pretty much deserved what she got. Fucking great.
âShe the only victim involved in his current case?â
âYeah. He did a numba on her, and guess she wasnât gonna take it lyinâ down.â
âGood for her,â Deacon muttered.
âNot so good for her, if this whacko finds her.â
âHe got connections? Like, does he have the assets to take out a hit on her?â
âNah. Heâs just a broke-ass losa. Gets his jollies from breakinâ women, physically and financially.â
âSo, what are you askinâ me to do?â Deacon asked, scraping a hand down his beard.
âSnag his ass and hold âim for me.â
âYou sure heâs cominâ up this way?â
âNope. But if I can find the victim, so can he.â
âShe aware he skipped?â
âDonât fuckinâ know. Again, not my problem. Thatâs tha DAâs problem.â
The District Attorney for the City and County of Philadelphia probably had way bigger problems and cases than one domestic abuse incident. Their office was most likely overwhelmed.
âSo, ya interested?â Bianchi asked.
Deacon met Judgeâs eyes. His cousin gave him a slight chin jerk.
âDepends on what itâs payinâ,â Deacon said after a few seconds.
âIâll give ya ten.â
A measly ten percent? Deacon shook his head and laughed. âThen no, ainât interested. âSpecially if this assholeâs violent.â
âTwelve then.â
âNo.â
âWhadya want? No guarantee heâs headinâ up your way.â
âRight, that means I might be wastinâ a lot of time sittinâ on the vic if he decides to go underground and forget she ever existed.â
âGot a feelinâ he wonât forget her. Heâs tha kinda dick who donât like a bitch gettinâ tha better of âim.â
âYeah?â
âHe might go underground, then pop up like a weasel when she least expects âim, slice her damn throat and then go back into his hidey-hole. Heâs tha kinda dumbass who thinks if thereâs no witness, tha charges will be dropped.â
âAgain, sounds like she needs a bodyguard. Not my area of expertise.â
âAnd again, thatâs her problem, not mine.â
Judge blew out a breath and shook his head.
Deacon was sure his expression matched Judgeâs annoyed one. This guy was a total fucking asshole. But, in truth, the man was right, his job had been to provide a bond for a criminal. That was it. He wasnât a crusader of justice.
But then, neither was Deacon or Judge.
He pursed his lips and considered what the job may be worth. âTwenty-five percent.â
âCazzo! Iâll find someone cheapa.â
âYou get what you pay for, Bianchi. You get fucked if heâs not captured. Somethinâs better than nothinâ, right?â
Through the phone, Deacon heard fingers drumming against what he figured was a desk, so he stayed quiet and waited.
âTwenty,â Bianchi countered.
âTwenty-five. Last chance or Iâm hanginâ up. Donât got time for these fuckinâ games.â He needed to stare at the back of his eyelids soon. Bianchi was interrupting his nap.
âAll right. You drive a hard bargain. Twenty-five.â
Deacon smiled up at Judge. His cousin didnât return that smile. âEmail us the bond, docket, photos, any info Iâm gonna need.â He rattled off the business email address. âSoon.â
âGonna get it to ya in the next half hour.â
âIâll be in touch if I got any questions. You find him first, let me know.â Deacon ended the call before getting a response. He leaned back in his comfy office chair and folded his arms behind his head. âWhat you thinkinâ?â
Judge shook his head. âJust wonderinâ what pussy youâre gonna fall into while in Mansfield.â
âDonât be a hater. Not ready to settle down like you, old man.â
âThen hopefully youâre wrappinâ it tight when you go divinâ.â
âAlso not makinâ the same mistake you did. Learned from you to never trust a fuckinâ woman.â He grinned. ââCept for Mom. I trust her.â
âMaybe you shouldnât,â Judge threw at him as he walked out of Deaconâs office.
âWhat does that mean?â Deacon yelled.
Judge paused right outside the door. âWhen she used to tell you all the cookies or pie were gone? She was just savinâ that shit for me.â
âBullshit.â
âKeep tellinâ you, I was the son she never had.â A snort came from down the hall.
Justice sat down next to him and whined. âGuess youâre gonna be hanginâ with Bubba Grump for a few days. I got some scratch to make.â The bulldog laid his head on Deaconâs lap and turned his chocolate brown eyes up at him. âWould take you along if I could, believe me. You can hang with ya sista. And Daisy.â He rubbed Jussieâs head. âAnd make sure you take a huge shit in the giantâs boots. Iâll give you extra treats when I get back if you do.â
He lifted one eyelid and stared at his giant of a cousin who was filling the doorway of Deaconâs office.
He had his feet kicked up on his desk with his ankles crossed, his arms crossed over his chest and heâd been trying to take a little snooze. He guessed that wasnât going to happen any time soon. He reluctantly lifted his other eyelid.
Judge apparently had a burr up his ass today.
Deacon just might be that burr.
âLast I checked there are seven days in a week, not four. Learn to count, cuz.â
Judge took a step into the office and shoved Deaconâs feet off his desk. âFour fuckinâ days to do a job that shoulda taken two.â
âGot sidetracked.â
âYeah, like normal. By pussy.â
âIt was decent pussy.â Otherwise he wouldâve been home a day earlier.
âGlad you were havinâ fun while my ass was back here takinâ our business seriously.â
âHey, I got the job done and the money should be hittinâ our account any day now.â
Judge only grunted.
His cousin and business partner couldnât argue that because it was true. They were getting a nice little chunk of change for Deacon finding a fugitive out in the boonies of northern Pennsylvania. The skip had been hiding out in a hunting cabin in the woods, where cell phone coverage was sketchy, and the neighbors consisted of mostly white-tail deer, black bear and squirrels. And a few backwoods rednecks.
Despite that, Deacon managed to track down the bail jumper, get him cuffed and deliver him to the nearest police station for the bondsman to come haul his ass back to Jersey.
It actually only took him a day and a half. But Deacon wasnât bringing up that point right now. Not when he had a scowling giant standing a couple feet away from him.
Fee-fi-fo-fum.
âWhatâs up your ass anyway? Is Cassie findinâ herself unsatisfied with your baby carrot cock and forcinâ you to fuck your Fleshlight again?â
âGot nothinâ to do with Cassie.â
âThen, why you beinâ a dick?â
Judge planted his knuckles on Deaconâs desk and leaned over until they were face to face. ââCause I can.â
âWhatever. Be Mr. Grumpy McGrumpFace all you want. I still wuv you.â He puckered his lips and made kissing sounds at Judge. âYou need a hug?â
âNeed you to take your fuckinâ job seriously.â
âThis ainât a job, Judge. Itâs my business, too.â
âThen fuckinâ act like it!â his cousin bellowed.
Justice, his American Bulldog, got up from lying at Deaconâs feet to come around the desk. He nudged Judge with his nose.
âJussie donât like you yellinâ, just sayinâ.â
âThen stop makinâ me do it.â
Deaconâs cell phone rang and vibrated at the same time. Unknown Number popped up on his screen. He snagged the phone off his desk and put it to his ear. âDeacon Edwards, skip tracer extraordinaire and all around awesome badass.â
He grinned as Judge rolled his green eyes.
âThis Justice Bail Bonds?â the male with a heavy accent on the other end asked.
He sat straight up in his chair. âYeah, it is.â
âThis is Anthony Bianchi from Bianchi Bail Bonds…â
âOkay?â Deacon hit the speaker button on his phone and placed his cell on the desk so Judge could listen, too.
âFrom Philly,â the man finished.
So, that was the accent. Fucking Philly. He hated that city. It was almost like Jersey, but way worse. It was Jerseyâs sweaty armpit.
Even so, the guy was acting like they should have heard about Bianchi Bail Bonds. Like they were famous or something.
âYeah, so…â Deacon prodded.
âYeah, so got ya numba from anotha bondsman. He said youâre good at trackinâ down these fuckwads when they skip.â
Well, that sounded like a glowing review. His eyes met Judgeâs. âYeah, Iâm good.â
âI need betta than good.â
âIâm betta than good,â Deacon repeated with a smirk.
There was a pause on the other end of the call. âYou makinâ fun of my accent?â
He nodded while answering, âNope. So, what dâyou need from us?â
âGot a skip that might end up in your area. This guyâs a real piece of work, though. Domestic abuse. Sexual assault. Attempted murder. How tha fucka got bond, who fuckinâ knows. Probably some asshole judge whoâs worried about tha manâs reputation ratha than the victimâs right to live without fea.â
Fea? Deacon rolled his eyes. For fuckâs sake, fear.
This dude was worried about victimâs rights? He was making scratch off that âfucka.â
âAlso, tha assholeâs got no problem with witness intimidation.â
âSo, heâs dangerous,â Deacon concluded.
âThatâs what Iâm sayinâ,â Anthony said. âHeâs been in and out of jail, likes to use and abuse women. Sweet talks âem for a while, gets in good with âem, then boom, runs up their credit cards, wipes out their bank accounts, andâs got no problem thinkinâ heâs a man by makinâ a woman do what she donât wanna do. I got two sistas, I donât got time for that kinda trash, hear what Iâm sayinâ?â
âYeah, I hear you,â Deacon muttered. He didnât have time for that kind of trash, either. Jemma might be his cousin, but she was more like a sister to him and he wouldnât want a man doing that to her. Or any other woman.
âAnyhow, heâs bad fuckinâ news. That means if you take this job and you see âim, you gotta watch yourself. Make sure you got protection. I wouldnât put it past âim to take a shot at ya. I wouldnât put it past him to take out tha woman. Which is why Iâm callinâ ya.â The man hacked a couple of times, not bothering to cover the phone when he did so. âLast woman he fucked up and drained dry is now up near you in Mansfield. Probably tryinâ to hide out âtil the trial. But now the mothefuckaâs probably lookinâ for her to either convince her to drop the charges or make her disappea.â
Like swim with the fishes type of disappearing?
âYou notify Mansfield PD?â Deacon asked him.
âYeah, first call I made.â
âThey probably donât have enough people to sit on her full time.â
âThatâs why you were my second call.â
Deacon could hear the unspoken âdumbassâ on the end of that. âWouldnât it be smarter to get her a damn bodyguard?â
âProlly, but that ainât my problem. My problemâs findinâ tha fucka and deliverinâ him to the court and gettinâ my fuckinâ money back. Iâm a business, not a babysitta. The victim has to look out for her own ass. It was her fault for gettinâ involved with this putz in tha first place.â
So, Bianchi was saying the victim pretty much deserved what she got. Fucking great.
âShe the only victim involved in his current case?â
âYeah. He did a numba on her, and guess she wasnât gonna take it lyinâ down.â
âGood for her,â Deacon muttered.
âNot so good for her, if this whacko finds her.â
âHe got connections? Like, does he have the assets to take out a hit on her?â
âNah. Heâs just a broke-ass losa. Gets his jollies from breakinâ women, physically and financially.â
âSo, what are you askinâ me to do?â Deacon asked, scraping a hand down his beard.
âSnag his ass and hold âim for me.â
âYou sure heâs cominâ up this way?â
âNope. But if I can find the victim, so can he.â
âShe aware he skipped?â
âDonât fuckinâ know. Again, not my problem. Thatâs tha DAâs problem.â
The District Attorney for the City and County of Philadelphia probably had way bigger problems and cases than one domestic abuse incident. Their office was most likely overwhelmed.
âSo, ya interested?â Bianchi asked.
Deacon met Judgeâs eyes. His cousin gave him a slight chin jerk.
âDepends on what itâs payinâ,â Deacon said after a few seconds.
âIâll give ya ten.â
A measly ten percent? Deacon shook his head and laughed. âThen no, ainât interested. âSpecially if this assholeâs violent.â
âTwelve then.â
âNo.â
âWhadya want? No guarantee heâs headinâ up your way.â
âRight, that means I might be wastinâ a lot of time sittinâ on the vic if he decides to go underground and forget she ever existed.â
âGot a feelinâ he wonât forget her. Heâs tha kinda dick who donât like a bitch gettinâ tha better of âim.â
âYeah?â
âHe might go underground, then pop up like a weasel when she least expects âim, slice her damn throat and then go back into his hidey-hole. Heâs tha kinda dumbass who thinks if thereâs no witness, tha charges will be dropped.â
âAgain, sounds like she needs a bodyguard. Not my area of expertise.â
âAnd again, thatâs her problem, not mine.â
Judge blew out a breath and shook his head.
Deacon was sure his expression matched Judgeâs annoyed one. This guy was a total fucking asshole. But, in truth, the man was right, his job had been to provide a bond for a criminal. That was it. He wasnât a crusader of justice.
But then, neither was Deacon or Judge.
He pursed his lips and considered what the job may be worth. âTwenty-five percent.â
âCazzo! Iâll find someone cheapa.â
âYou get what you pay for, Bianchi. You get fucked if heâs not captured. Somethinâs better than nothinâ, right?â
Through the phone, Deacon heard fingers drumming against what he figured was a desk, so he stayed quiet and waited.
âTwenty,â Bianchi countered.
âTwenty-five. Last chance or Iâm hanginâ up. Donât got time for these fuckinâ games.â He needed to stare at the back of his eyelids soon. Bianchi was interrupting his nap.
âAll right. You drive a hard bargain. Twenty-five.â
Deacon smiled up at Judge. His cousin didnât return that smile. âEmail us the bond, docket, photos, any info Iâm gonna need.â He rattled off the business email address. âSoon.â
âGonna get it to ya in the next half hour.â
âIâll be in touch if I got any questions. You find him first, let me know.â Deacon ended the call before getting a response. He leaned back in his comfy office chair and folded his arms behind his head. âWhat you thinkinâ?â
Judge shook his head. âJust wonderinâ what pussy youâre gonna fall into while in Mansfield.â
âDonât be a hater. Not ready to settle down like you, old man.â
âThen hopefully youâre wrappinâ it tight when you go divinâ.â
âAlso not makinâ the same mistake you did. Learned from you to never trust a fuckinâ woman.â He grinned. ââCept for Mom. I trust her.â
âMaybe you shouldnât,â Judge threw at him as he walked out of Deaconâs office.
âWhat does that mean?â Deacon yelled.
Judge paused right outside the door. âWhen she used to tell you all the cookies or pie were gone? She was just savinâ that shit for me.â
âBullshit.â
âKeep tellinâ you, I was the son she never had.â A snort came from down the hall.
Justice sat down next to him and whined. âGuess youâre gonna be hanginâ with Bubba Grump for a few days. I got some scratch to make.â The bulldog laid his head on Deaconâs lap and turned his chocolate brown eyes up at him. âWould take you along if I could, believe me. You can hang with ya sista. And Daisy.â He rubbed Jussieâs head. âAnd make sure you take a huge shit in the giantâs boots. Iâll give you extra treats when I get back if you do.â
JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today and international bestselling romance author who loves writing about strong women and alpha males. She was only thirteen when she first started writing. Her first published piece was an erotic short story in Playgirl magazine. She then went on to publish her first romance novel in 2009. She is now an author of almost fifty contemporary romances. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F mĂŠnages, including interracial. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a free sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup
đReviewđ
Deacon is living his life on his terms as he is part of the brotherhood of the Blood Fury MC, enjoys the freedom of being single and has his career as a bounty hunter. When his latest assignment has his world colliding with Reeseâs their lives are about to change.
Reese is a lawyer who learnt from a young age that the only one she can depend on is herself. She would do anything for her sister she will do whatever is necessary to protect her even if it means working with Deacon.
From their first meeting the chemistry between them is electric but Reese isnât about to just become the next woman he loves and leaves so it will take everything that Deacon has to convince her that she can trust him with her heart and her life.
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