I chewed my lip, trying to make sense of his words.
“Disagreements? Like what?”
I saw a shutter come down over his eyes. Clearly, I’d intruded on something personal. Or painful.
“That’s a story for another time.”
I nodded, relieved to end this line of conversation. I was worried about Paul. And the more I learned about Preacher, the more grudging respect I had for the man. But he was confusing. Preacher didn’t fit neatly into the world. I couldn’t put him in a neat box with a label. He wasn’t black and white. Not good or bad.
I didn’t like being confused, and I really didn’t like how intriguing I found him. Or how dangerously appealing.
Did the man have to be so masculine? And those sensual lips! Who ever heard of a man of God with bedroom eyes?
“What do we do about the bills?”
“I’ll make a list. If he wants to come back, I can try and pay them.”
“Pay them? You mean yourself?”
“I live a simple life, but I’m not a pauper.”
“But medical bills are—”
“I’ll handle it,” he said. Oddly enough, I believed him.
“What about the Rev? I hate to think of him all alone out there.”
“A man with Paul’s faith is never truly alone. But don’t worry.” He gave me a determined smile that sent a shiver down my back. “I’ll find him, whether he wants me to or not.”
Chapter Nine
Preacher
I paced in the courtyard, smoking a cigar. I had a few minutes before I had to be back in the office for spiritual counseling. A few weeks ago, I would’ve been grumbling about having to show up anywhere, scratching my ass and half drunk, yelling at people to leave me alone. But so much had happened. This was real life. I had to fucking step up.
I had to be present.
Paul had set me up. I knew it. He never intended to come back. And I knew in a twisted way, the bastard thought he was doing it for me. He’d called me ‘aimless’ and ‘unmoored’ a hundred times since I got my first ride and took off, never to return.
Well, now he was the shiftless motherfucker and I intended to track him down.
Cain picked up on the third ring.
“Cain,” he said by way of greeting. I hid a smile. He was the most stoic bastard I’d ever met, except when it came to his woman. But he was also one of the best men alive.
“Need a favor.”
“For you? Anything. Just keep your hands off my wife.”
I chuckled dryly. I had a reputation for kissing brides. I’d spent most of my life crawling with easy women, so I deserved a good degree of suspicion.
“My friend from the old neighborhood disappeared. We grew up together, roomed together in seminary school . . . fuck, that doesn’t cut it. He’s a brother to me.”
“When? Any thought as to where he might have gone? Or was he taken?”
Cain was on the job already. I could almost hear his brain working over the phone. Thank fuck.
“He’s sick, Cain. Cancer. Dying, maybe. He left me in charge of his congregation and—”
“Wait, what?”
“He asked me to take over his church while he got treatment. But he told me he was going one place and his staff he was going another. Left behind a pile of bills, too. It looks bad.”
I’d done a little searching in the parsonage before making the call. There was another drawer full of unopened medical bills in the dining room. I guess at some point, Paul had taken a page from my book and just said ‘fuck it.’
“You’re working in a church? With normal people?” Cain asked, his voice sounding strangled.
I sighed heavily.
“Yes.”
Silence.
I jerked my ear away from the phone as Cain’s booming laughter filled the courtyard. I’d never heard him laugh that hard. I’d never heard anyone laugh that hard.
To tell the truth, it was pretty funny.
“Have your fun, you fuck. Then help me find my friend.”
“The church hasn’t fallen down yet? Struck by lightening? Plague of locusts?”
“No. But I give my first sermon on Sunday, so there’s still time.”
He was still chuckling as he asked me rapid-fire questions about the type of cancer Paul had (lung), his habits (not many), and friends and family (none to speak of other than the good people of his church).
“I don’t want him dying alone,” I said at the end of the conversation. “Even if he doesn’t want to be found, I need to know he’s not alone.”
“Got it. I might send someone down there to ask around.”
“I have a spare room.”
“Any chance Paul would have access to a fake ID?”
“I doubt it, but anything is possible.”
“Good. Trace will get on this. If he took public trans, there’s going to be a record. That should point us in the right direction.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you for this.”
“Oh, trust me, you have already paid me back in entertainment.”
I made a sour face. I knew I was never going to hear the end of this. But again, I got the joke.
I was filthy and disreputable. I was not fit company for regular folk. And yet here I was, doing my best to steer the congregation. I was about to, anyway.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Cain added.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate this.”
I hung up and put out my stogie, trying hard to ignore Cynthia as I went back inside the office. It was too hard to look without leering like a filthy old man, even if that’s what I was. I had to at least try not to be a revolting pig who wanted to do profane things to her on her desk. And my desk. The floor. The supply closet. Hell, I’d take her in the church if she’d let me.
I’d take her on the altar.
I didn’t even have to fuck her. I just wanted to look and touch and taste. Lord knew, I wanted to taste that honey-colored skin just to see if it tasted as sweet as it looked.
I glanced upward with a shrug of apology to the big guy in the sky. God knew I was no liar. I might be filthy minded and immoral, but I was no liar.
I sat behind the desk, letting my eyes slide inevitably toward the beauty sitting in the small room just outside my open double doors. There was no use in fighting it. I was going to stare. She was typing furiously, intent on the screen.
I should have known she had spider senses.
She spoke without looking up from her work.
“There’s a white noise machine by the door. Paul turns it on when someone comes in.”
“If someone comes in,” I said dryly, not expecting any takers.
But they did. My first case was a shy housewife who was unhappy in her marriage, even though she deeply loved her husband. The man was borderline abusive, but not physically. I gave her a couple of things to try when his temper was high. Mostly, ignoring him when he acted like an ass and rewarding good behavior. If it didn’t work, we would talk again.
I didn’t want to tell her to leave the man just yet, but it was a close thing. I had practically tasted the words on my lips. No woman deserved to be berated day in and day out. But I knew a lot of women were.
I believed that people could learn to be better. You just couldn’t give them endless chances.
A couple of older people came in just to talk and introduce themselves. They didn’t have so much a spiritual crisis but more a weariness and a hope for more for their neighborhood.
I was busier than I thought. So much so that two hours had passed before I saw a real lull.
The evening classes were going to start in an hour when there was a soft knock at the door. I looked up to see Marcus waiting shyly. I saw Cynthia discreetly pack up her bag and make herself scarce.
“Come in, Marcus.”
He nodded and took the seat across from me. He looked at me. I looked at him. Nobody spoke.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I s
een something. Something people shouldn’t be doing. I don’t like it. But I don’t want to be a snitch.”
Suddenly, I wanted a drink. Needed one. I hadn’t even really missed being buzzed all day. I’d been too busy to even think about it. And, well, I had Cynthia to keep me pleasantly distracted.
I exhaled. This was it. This was why I was here.
“Were they hurting anybody?”
He shrugged.
“Selling drugs. Drugs hurt people, right?”
I rubbed my beard.
“Well, I don’t know. I think they should legalize drugs. For adults, of course,” I added hastily. “But lots of people do bad things in the trafficking of drugs, that’s true.”
He nodded.
“They shoot people sometimes. I don’t want that to happen to my . . .” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. I changed the subject to give the kid some breathing room.
“If you ask me, doctors are the real drug pushers. They dole out those pain pills like candy and ruin people’s lives.”
“So if they are doing bad things and putting people in danger, what should I do?”
“I don’t want you getting yourself hurt. That’s number one.”
He nodded. Smart kid.
“I would stay out of it. My policy is to mind my own business unless someone is getting hurt. Or if they ask me for help.”
“Okay,” he said, looking thoughtful.
“I don’t know if that’s a perfect answer,” I added, frowning. “I’m new to this. But that is what I would do.”
“Thanks, Preacher,” he said, not looking convinced.
“If you want to tell me more, you can. I’ll never snitch.”
He smiled so big at me that I felt it pierce my crusty old heart. Fuck. The kid had a nice smile. You could just see the pure light pouring out of him.
“Okay.” He stood to go. “I got to get to dance practice.”
“Come back and see me, okay? I get lonely in here.”
He grinned and nodded.
“See ya!”
He bounded out of the room with so much energy I chuckled. I couldn’t even remember having that kind of juice. I groaned and stood up, feeling my age. I walked back to the parsonage and got a bottle of tequila out of the ancient freezer. Cold booze was a luxury I had never indulged in. Certainly not in my little shack on the beach. But since I was here . . .
I smacked my lips as the icy tequila hit my throat, cooling and warming me all at once. I hadn’t gone this long without a drink in a dog’s age. Maybe ever, I realized.
At least, not since my fall from grace.
I had fallen off the straight and narrow path hard and fast, never looking back. I went from a God-fearing, ‘good’ young man to a degenerate, half-crazed, drunken asshole with a love of speed, heavy metal, and engines in two seconds flat. Paul had tried to bring me back but it was too late.
I was too pissed at God to follow his rules. I still believed. But I didn’t think he had a right to tell me what to do with my daily pleasures. Not if he was going to go around killing innocent young girls like my sister.
I believed in God. I even loved him. But it was a messy, angry love.
I took another cupful and dragged my chair out to sit in the courtyard. I should probably eat dinner, I thought to myself. That’s what Cynthia would tell me to do. Instead, I sat and drank, catching glimpses of her and her dancers through the windows that lined the annex.
My cigar tasted particularly good tonight. So did the booze. Maybe there was a reason people didn’t drink all day, after all. Made it much more enjoyable when you finally got to relax.
You old dog. That girl is taming you and you ain’t even getting a taste.
I smacked my lips at the thought of Miss Cynthia under my hands and mouth. I knew it wasn’t going to happen, but being around her made my blood sing and my cock constantly hard. I felt fucking young again around her.
I’d wait out here and walk her home again. There was no way she was taking that stroll by herself. I grinned at what I anticipated to be an outraged expression when she found me waiting outside for her again. I went inside to get another drink.
“You’re drunk.”
“Not drunk,” I said, walking companionably beside her. She hadn’t put up much of a fight this time. That was good. She was learning. I was as stubborn as an old goat. “Just a touch of mother’s milk.”
She shook her head.
“Why do you drink?”
I laughed, not caring that people turned to stare.
“Why not? Why deny myself the simple pleasures? I don’t see most things as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.”
“You sound like a nihilist.”
“I do,” I agreed. “And I am.”
“But you believe in God.”
“I do. But I’m pissed at him.” I gave her a warm look. “Or I was, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Story for another time.”
She sighed.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Walking you home? It’s not safe.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she grumbled.
“You don’t like me.”
She kept walking but I saw her tense up. Now we were getting somewhere. I knew I should leave well enough alone, but I wanted to know why. Fuck it.
“I don’t know you.”
I looked at her, considering my options. The benefit of tequila was that it had lowered my resistance to this crazy fascination I had for the girl. I was interested. More than interested. Borderline obsessed. But I also knew she was way too young for me.
She was way too good for me, too.
I was trying my damndest to think of her as a coworker. But I was failing. I would just have to bide my time. See if I could cure myself of this impossible to ignore attraction I was feeling toward her. She would be better off in the long run, even if she didn’t laugh in my damn face.
“That’ll change,” I predicted.
We passed a happening little bistro on a corner near her street. I cleared my throat, feeling like a bit of a jackass.
“Are you hungry?”
She looked at me in surprise. Then she nodded. Just like that, we were about to break bread together.
“I could eat.”
I had to school my features to stop the wide grin that wanted to spread across my face. I opened the door. It was time to wine and dine the lady. Even if I didn’t get in her cute little pants, looking at her while I ate was sure to be fun. And this would give her a chance to get to know me.
Of course, if she got to know me too well, I was well aware that she would know without a doubt what a degenerate I truly was.
Let the chips fall where they may, you old dog.
I pulled her seat out for her and decided to do just that.
Chapter Ten
Cynthia
Am I… on a date with Preacher?
I looked down at menu, then back up at the man sitting across from me. He was so big he made the seat look like a kid’s chair. I almost giggled at the thought.
What is it that is so compelling about the man? I wondered. He’s a foul-mouthed degenerate.
But he’s gorgeous. And honest. And he cares, a more traitorous voice whispered.
He scowled at the menu, and I resisted the urge to laugh again.
“Forgot your bifocals?”
He winked at me with those crazy beautiful eyes of his.
“Everything is in working order, darlin’.”
My cheeks turned pink at the double meaning. He was telling me he was still virile. Good Lord. How was this brooding, wicked, eerily handsome man supposed to take the place of Reverend Paul? I couldn’t make sense of Paul’s thought process.
Unless . . . he meant for us to save Preacher.
“How did you guys meet? You and Paul,” I asked once we had ordered. I decided to live a little and get a glass of red wine. It was good for your heart, I reasoned. I hid my smile when Preacher ordered
the same, even though I was pretty sure he preferred whiskey. Or tequila.
“We grew up together. Poorest part of town.”
“Were you always friends?”
He shrugged.
“We were more like relatives. Same block. He was always around. And then we both decided to go to the seminary at the same time.”
It was hard to imagine.
“You were religious?”
“I was,” he said, tearing off a piece of bread and slathering it with butter. I raised my eyebrows. He just grinned and took a big bite. “Still am. I was just more traditional then. Good as gold,” he added with a wink.
“Really. You consider yourself religious?” I said with a raised brow.
He nodded.
“I talk to the big guy all the time. He just might not like what I have to say.”
“Right. The whole ‘angry’ at God thing. It made you, what, go off the beaten path?”
He chuckled.
“That’s one way to put it.” He gave me a shrewd look. “What about you? I doubt many bright young women are chomping at the bit to work at their local church.”
“I grew up here,” I said with a sigh. “I didn’t have a lot growing up. Single mom, and . . . well, things got messy. Reverend Paul was always there for my mom and me. He started a lot of programs for the neighborhood. Eventually, I ended up helping him expand the youth program. And then when I started school, I was able to do some of my work here for credit toward my degree.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I’m impressed. How close are you to graduating?”
“Only a couple of classes, but it will take another semester to finish. I can only manage one or two classes at a time.”
“What then?”
“Grad school,” I said proudly. “I already started my application.”
“Where?”
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