“Get off me, motherfucker. That bitch had it coming. Fucking trannie freak!”
And Clarice, my sweet Clarice, stood there, her arms wrapped around her slender frame, looking like she’d seen a ghost. She’d told me she was used to ignorant people mistreating her, but I knew it couldn’t be easy. I went to her, gently trying to pull her away.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s foolish and ignorant.”
She shook her head.
“I know that. It’s not that. It’s . . .” she looked at me and I realized she was in shock. “Your man is shot.”
My eyes flew to Preacher. I didn’t see any blood. He was trying to move, to get a knee into the kid’s abdomen. He saw me start toward him.
“Do not even think about coming near us. Get as far away as you can.”
I stared at him, not understanding.
“GO!” he screamed at me, and it jolted me awake. I backed away until I bumped into someone. A hand came down on my shoulder to steady me. “Clarice, take my woman away from this gun, please. Take the kids, too.”
“I don’t wanna leave you,” she said tearfully.
“Me either,” Marcus piped up.
“I will see all of you back at the church once the police get here and take this gun away,” he ground out, clearly in pain. Through his hair, I could see his blue eyes as they locked with mine like lasers. “I’m not going to tell you twice, darlin’.”
I left, but only long enough to get the kids to the annex. He was right that they shouldn’t be there. Aunt Julia got busy doling out homemade cookies and apple juice. I settled Clarice into a chair and got her a cup of coffee, my mind back at the street corner where I’d left Preacher. It didn’t feel right to leave him there alone.
“He got shot. He was defending my honor,” she said tonelessly.
“That’s what friends do,” I said distractedly. But I knew it was true. Preacher would protect and defend the ones he cared about, even if he got hurt in the process.
Hurt, or worse.
She nodded tearfully.
“He’d better not die. I’ll kill him,” she said fiercely. Then she looked at me. “What the hell are you doing here? Go and get your man!”
I turned on my heel.
“But hang back if the cops aren’t there yet. If you get shot too, Preacher will skin me!”
“All right,” I called out over my shoulder, not stopping.
“Promise me!”
“I promise,” I shouted as I skidded into the hallway and turned toward the street.
I took off at a run.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Preacher
Sunlight. Darkness. Fluorescents.
I blinked and the lights seemed to change. I blinked again. I saw faces and heard voices, but I couldn’t make out who they were.
“Cynthia . . .” a hoarse voice whispered. Was that me? I couldn’t tell.
I only knew that I wanted Cynthia.
The pain was dull, but stronger than expected. Had I crashed my ride? Gotten stabbed by a jealous husband? One I didn’t know about, because I drew the line at breaking up marriages, generally speaking.
Oh, that’s right. I’d gotten shot.
A voice murmured something about giving me something to help with the pain.
I smiled as some sort of drug went into my veins. I was floating now, the pain gone. But I still wanted my woman, dammit. She was mine, right? She had forgiven me.
But I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t remember.
Cynthia . . .
“I think he’s waking up . . .” a familiar voice said consolingly. “The doctor’s said he’s gonna be okay, Cynth. Try and relax a little.”
“I can’t believe he did this. He just threw himself on a loaded weapon!”
My eyes cracked open at the tone of my sweetheart’s voice. She sounded pissed. Really pissed. But what she said next filled my heart with joy.
“He’s going to be a father! He can’t go around doing stupid ass shit like that anymore! And people around here need him. I need him!”
“Tsk, tsk. Such language from a lady.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she said sourly. I hadn’t heard that tone of voice in a while. Not since I first met her.
Back when she hated my ass.
I was alive, I realized. I was still alive, and my woman was worried about me. Which meant . . .
My eyes opened.
“Come here, woman.”
Cynthia stared at me, still wearing her cute little outfit from the street fair. I frowned, pretty sure a couple of days had passed. Had she been here the whole time?
“You’re awake.”
“I am,” I rasped out, giving her a look. “Now, come here.”
“And that’s my cue,” Clarice said with a big smile as she skedaddled out of the room. The other bed was empty. The door clicked softly and we were alone.
“Come here,” I said again.
Cynthia crossed her arms and glared at me, not moving an inch. I almost smiled. She was as stubborn as a goat, my woman.
“You are lucky to be alive,” she said accusingly. As if I’d done it on purpose.
Which . . . I sort of had. Didn’t matter if she was right, though. She was mine, and I needed to tell her so.
“Woman, don’t make me get up.”
“Fine!”
She threw her arms up and came toward the bed.
“Closer,” I said, watching her hungrily.
She took another step, attitude brimming. She was usually such a sweet, well-mannered girl, it was easy to forget she had grown up in the streets.
“Closer,” I ground out.
She rolled her eyes and saddled right up to the edge of the bed. I grabbed her and pulled her down for a kiss. She squealed. I groaned as my injury made itself known in a big way.
“Goddamn!” I hissed as the pain nearly made me black out. I realized sudden movements were out for now. That meant bedding my woman was going to have to wait.
That sucked big time. Every time I was near her, or even thought about her, I got sprung. Even right now, with the pain, my cock was definitely awake and happy to see her.
“Serves you right,” she said. But her face was pinched and worried. “Are you bleeding?”
I glanced down at my stomach, not loosening my grip on her wrist as she perched on the side of the bed.
“Don’t move.”
“I’ll get a nurse.”
“Do. Not. Move.”
I stared at her, breathing hard.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what, Preacher?”
“Am I going to be a daddy?”
“Yes. I mean, I don’t know yet, but I decided we can have a baby if I am. And we can try if I’m not. But not if you keep doing stupid ass shit!”
I grinned suddenly.
“I’ve never heard you curse before.”
“Well, you bring it out in me, I guess!”
She looked so cute when she was mad. All indignant and scowly and pretty at the same time. Kind of like a pissed off kitten, but a lot more dangerous.
My woman could definitely cut me with her words and actions. In fact, she could hurt me more than anyone on earth, living or dead, ever could.
“So, we will have a baby, God willing, but not yet?”
She chewed her lip.
“I’m actually not sure. I’m due this week. You distracted me!”
I stared at her.
“How long have you been here? Have you slept?”
She looked away.
“Cynthia, as soon as these stitches are out, I am putting you over my knee. You cannot run yourself down like that when you are carrying our child!”
“Might be carrying your child,” she said in a small voice. “And you were shot. I couldn’t leave you. You kept saying my name.”
My eyes got wide at that. I could vaguely remember calling out for her . . . well, damn. She’d been through hell and here I was yelling at her. I sig
hed. The woman made me absolutely crazy.
“All right. How long have you been here?”
“A few days,” she said with a delicate shrug.
“You are going to march right home, take a long, hot shower to get the hospital stink off you, and get into bed.” I frowned at her. “And eat something healthy!”
“You are not my father,” she said, crossing her arms again. “And I don’t smell.”
“You know what I mean, woman.” I laughed, then immediately groaned at the pain that caused in my belly.
“I guess I got gut shot,” I hissed as I lay back on the bed. I’d been shot in the arm before, but this was something different. This pain was not staying in one place.
Oh, hell, no. This fucker liked to travel.
The pain was doing a little sightseeing by my navel, then up to visit my ribs and sliding all the way down to my goddamn nuts. I forced myself to think positively. At least my cock and balls were intact, thank God. I wasn’t sure I’d have the grace to go on without them.
“No, you got shot in your side. You are so lucky, Preacher. If it had been a few inches in . . .” She shuddered, and I could see how scared she’d been. I’d done that. I’d made the extraordinarily beautiful, kind, and brilliant woman in front of me worry about my sorry old ass.
It might be perverse, but I was pretty damn pleased about it. Proud, too. Like I’d earned a gold star or a blue ribbon.
“Sweetheart,” I said, reaching for her. But she pulled away. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m mad at you.”
“Well, go be mad at me at home. I don’t want you getting sick, too.” I gave her a warm look. “How else are you going to be able to nurse me back to health?”
“Nurse?”
“I was thinking we could get you one of those cute little outfits,” I said, leaning back as I warmed to my subject. “For my sponge baths and feedings.”
“You think I am going to feed and bathe you?” she asked, cocking one hip.
“Yes, I do, woman,” I said smugly. “And you’ll do it with a smile.”
“You’re probably right.” She sighed, looking deflated. “But I’m not dressing up in some porno outfit.”
“No porno,” I agreed, suddenly feeling like a horse’s ass, even though I’d been mostly joking. Mostly.
“And I’m not leaving until I hear what the doctor has to say,” she insisted, giving me a dirty look. “Plus, I need to help all of your brothers find places to stay. You didn’t tell me you had such a big family.”
“Big . . . what?”
The door opened and I bit back a grin.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” I teased. Though Lord knows, I was glad to see them.
Hunter and Vice were smirking at me from the doorway.
“Cain wanted to come here in person, but only so he could laugh at your ass.”
“Aww, you shouldn’t have,” I said. “Did you bring me flowers?”
“We came to help with your missing person and neighborhood problems. The fact that your gnarly old ass got shot just sped up our timeline.”
“He’s lucky Mac didn’t shoot him,” I heard in a slow drawl. “He would have aimed a little lower.”
Hunter and Vice ambled into the room and I saw the pretty Devil’s Rider boys from even further down the coast were standing behind them. Nick leaned against the door jamb, looking relaxed, as always. Drake stood straight, his military training obvious despite his torn jeans, leather, and ink. Nick’s hair was prettier than most girls’, and Drake was a heavily tattooed badass with muscles and nerves of steel he’d gotten in the Marines.
“What are you sad sacks doing here?” I grumbled, even though I was smiling. It was my job to give the young ones a hard time. Hell, I gave everybody I cared about a hard time.
“Kaylee wants your sorry ass home for Christmas,” Drake offered. “For some reason, all the girls do.”
Cynthia looked a little jealous at that.
“All the girls? Do tell, Preacher.”
“They are all like little sisters to me,” I announced loudly. And they were. Just because I stole a few kisses and pinched a few bottoms, well, those days were behind me, anyway. I was a one-woman man now.
“You are a lucky sonofabitch, you know that, Preach?”
“Yeah. I’m lucky the bullet didn’t hit anything.”
“No, I mean your woman,” Nick said with a feral looking grin. He might be even calmer than Mac, and slow to anger, but Nick was no slouch with the ladies. In fact, he might even put Callaway to shame with the number of women after him at any given moment, though I doubted he’d ever had a five-way before. Come to think of it, Drake was beating them off with a stick, too.
“Don’t even think about it, you bastard.”
He just grinned and winked at me.
“I’ll perform the ceremony for you. If you want.”
“Fuck that,” Hunter growled. “I’m doing it.”
“You told them?” Cynthia asked with a worried look. “I thought it wasn’t official until you actually asked me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone, sweetheart. I think they can just tell I’ve been hooked.”
She scowled at me, crossing her arms and tossing her hair.
“Hmmph. That had better be what they meant.”
That cracked the guys up. They laughed their damned asses off. Meanwhile, I just lay there, wishing I could get down on one knee right fucking now. But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
But when I got better, that was the first thing I was going to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Cynthia
“Damned fool, getting himself shot,” I muttered to myself as I cleaned. No one was here to hear me anyway, so I let loose. I’d been cleaning and ranting on and off for a few hours now. I was pissed. I was tired and pissed and scared. How were we supposed to build a life here when Preacher threw himself on bullets? “Stupid man thinks he’s invincible.”
I was helping get the parsonage ready for guests. Paul’s bed and the other beds upstairs were clean, but I needed to air them out. Preacher never even went up there, apparently, other than to use the shower.
Except the few times I’d slept over, and then we’d used the guest room beds, shoving the two twins together and falling into the crack more than once.
Preacher was pretty much either on the couch, in the kitchen, or in my bed.
The man had also been spending a lot of time in his office, walking the neighborhood, and talking to people. Frequenting the local restaurants, usually with me. But not now. Now, thanks to some punk kid with an attitude, he was flat on his back, recovering.
It could have been so much worse, Cynth, I reminded myself.
I shivered, trying not to think too much about that. He was coming home. He was alive. He would rest and recuperate. He would heal.
Or that’s what his ass would be doing if he knew what was good for him when they released him later today. I would be more than happy to tell him where to go if he didn’t follow the doctor’s strict orders to rest and recover.
Yeah, I was still angry enough to curse him out. I’d been practicing. I’d even picked up some new ones from Clarice.
Meanwhile, Preacher’s buddies had been staying in a no-tell motel, which was not okay with either one of us. He said they were low-maintenance, but the only motels in the area were frequented by hookers and burnouts and rented by the hour. Even with a whole case of cleaner and scented candles, it didn’t sound very nice. Not for his ‘brothers’ who had come so far to help him out. To help us out.
So they were coming to stay here and that was the end of it. I’d put my foot down and stared down four giant, unusually good-looking men announcing that Preacher’s family was not staying in a roach motel one night longer. They’d all laughed at me but had finally agreed.
Only after explaining to me that yes, they were family but not by blood. The motorcycle club was a big famil
y. Technically, they were from two different clubs that were practically on either end of California, but they were connected too.
And anyway, they would make excellent chaperones, I decided. Preacher had been trying to get into my pants non-stop since the first day in the hospital. I rolled my eyes. Even injured, the man was a relentless sex machine. He kept trying to get me to sit on his lap and wiggle around, which I had to admit sounded like fun.
I’d told him I’d be happy to do it, if only he hadn’t been such a dumbass!
Despite his threats to spank me when he finally woke up, I hadn’t stayed away. I’d gone home to sleep a few hours here and there. I’d slept in a chair in his room, too.
It had been a really, really long week. Nine days, to be exact. I was glad it was over.
To tell the truth, I was beat. I hoped Preacher would sleep a lot, because Lord knows, I needed to catch up on some rest myself, too.
A soft knock on the kitchen door made me look up. I recognized Marcus just from his silhouette against the faded curtain covering the glass panes in the door. He had a uniquely energetic yet slouchy way of moving.
“Hey,” I said with a smile, opening the door. Marcus was one of my first students when I’d started the dance troupe. I was definitely attached to him. I freaking loved the kid.
“Preacher here?”
I shook my head.
“Sorry. He will be here in a few hours. What’s up?”
“Wanted to talk,” he said with a shrug. But I could tell there was more to it. He was about to leave, still carrying some sort of heavy load. I pinned a casual, not-at-all-worried-about-him-even-though-I-was smile on my face.
“How about I stand in for him?”
He bit his lip and nodded. I held the door open, and he slouched his way inside, sitting when I pointed to a chair.
I sat across from him, carefully acting like nothing was wrong. I found that teenagers were like puppies and kittens. Move too suddenly or stare too intently, and they would disappear.
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