“I was going to say beautiful.”
I almost snorted, it was so hard to believe. The guy must be swimming in groupies and models. I was just . . . me. Ordinary. Not bad, but nothing special in the looks department. And since I had vomited twice today, I was pretty sure I was not at my best. But he’d always been a charmer, I reminded myself. I’d believed every word he ever told me until the night I caught them in the act.
The sting of seeing them like that . . . together . . . I could still see it. Still feel it. It was that sharp, like the earth had opened up under my feet.
Everything I’d been so sure of until that moment had just crumbled. His love. Her friendship. My place in the world.
A few months later, my mother had passed away.
And then I’d been well and truly alone.
But you survived, chica. You built a new family. I’ve never been so proud of you.
My mother’s voice always spoke the truth. I sighed and forced myself not to rehash the past or drag up old hurts. We were adults now.
“Congratulations on your contract.”
He perked up a little bit at that.
“You heard? Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”
“It’s amazing, Zach. You deserve it,” I said. And I meant it. He was always an impressive athlete, especially considering he’d grown up on food stamps and playing in fire hydrants like the rest of us.
“You know, you were the first person I wanted to tell.”
“Come on.”
“No. Really. It’s . . . well, let’s just say I’ve changed since . . . everything happened.”
Holy shit. He was nervous. Zach Chambers was nervous.
“That’s good. You grew up.” I lifted my chin. “So did I.”
“I haven’t really . . . I heard you don’t date.”
My jaw dropped open. He was not going there, was he? It was embarrassing to think of the great Zach Chambers knowing how dry things had been. Before Preacher came in and tipped over the apple cart, of course.
“You’re keeping tabs on me?” I accused. When he nodded, I hissed out a breath of exasperation.
“I don’t date anymore, either. Not since I realized what I lost and . . . well, nothing casual really tempted me after that.”
My jaw dropped. Star football player . . . celibate. It was hard to believe. But the look on his face . . . well, for some crazy reason, I believed him.
If he had told me he wasn’t dating a couple of months ago . . . this speech . . . God, it might have gotten to me.
But not now. Not after I’d felt the heat and the loyalty of Preacher. The filthy, filthy truth of him. Not now that I was carrying his baby.
Talk about too little, too late.
“I am.”
“You are what?” he asked. I suddenly realized that Zach wasn’t lying. I felt it in my gut. He still held a torch for me. A big one. He hadn’t let go or moved on.
There was a terrible hope in his eyes. Terrible because I was about to crush it. And even after everything, I felt bad about it.
“I’m dating. More than that. I’m with someone.”
“With? Is it serious?” He caught the look on my face. “I know it’s none of my business and I have no right to ask, but . . . I never stopped loving you, Cynth. I was a stupid kid. I took you for granted and I’ll never forgive myself for it. But I’m not stupid now. If you give me another chance, I will never let you down again.”
Zach reached into his pocked and pulled out a box. A dark green box with the word Cartier emblazoned in gold script. A jewelry box.
It couldn’t be . . . I gasped as he opened it.
“I know it’s crazy, but the first thing I did was go out and buy this.” My eyes got big. Like twenty carats big. “Come with me, Cynth. We don’t have to rush into anything. Let me just prove to you . . . let me show you I’ve changed. That I never stopped loving you.”
Oh. My. God.
Zach had bought me a ring.
An engagement ring.
A really, really big engagement ring.
I shook my head. This conservation suddenly felt disloyal to Preacher. I was not going down this road. I couldn’t.
But holy shit, that was a good speech. A good speech, a good guy who was fessing up to his mistakes, and a very, very good ring.
I’d thought of him as a cheating piece of garbage for so long. But that hadn’t been fair. We had been kids, and he had done something stupid. He wasn’t a bad guy. All the things I’d loved about him were still there, and he’d learned from his mistakes on top of it.
Maybe that’s why I told him the truth.
“Zach, I . . . I’m pregnant.”
Wow, way to blurt Cynthia.
“What?”
“You asked me if it was serious, and it is. It happened kind of fast, but it’s not just a fling. And, well, I’m carrying his child.”
A look of devastation passed over his handsome face.
“I’m too late.”
I nodded.
“I should have come sooner. I wanted to wait until I knew for sure about the contract. I wanted you to be proud of me.”
I closed my eyes.
“I am proud of you, Zach. Proud of an old friend who shines a bright light on our neighborhood.”
“I can’t believe I was too late,” he muttered to himself, seriously looking like he might cry. “When did you meet him, Cynthia? How far off was I?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I would have turned him down anyway. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure I would have. It was obvious that he really had changed. That despite being who and what he was, he had learned humility.
We both had.
“Just a–a month. A little longer.”
If he had looked devastated before, the look on his face now was even worse. He closed his eyes and covered his face with one hand.
“Okay. I . . . thanks for telling me. I . . .” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out something else. An envelope. “I really did come here to talk about the church. Giving back and . . . shit.” He ran his hand over his buzz cut. “If you ever change your mind . . .”
The look in his eyes nearly tore me in half.
“Or if he isn’t good to you . . .” He tried to give me the box. I shook my head as he told me, “Just hold onto it.”
“He will be,” I said firmly, pushing the box away. “Good to me.”
He nodded, muttered, “He’d better be,” pressed a spontaneous kiss to my forehead, and was gone. I stared at the envelope in my hand then slowly sat back down on one of the benches Preacher had built out of pallets and donated tools. I ran my hand over the wood, carefully sanded and finished to keep anyone from getting splinters.
Wow. I had not been expecting . . . that.
I shook my head as if to clear it. Zach was my past. I rested my hand on my stomach and stared into space. This baby was my future. And hopefully, Preacher would be too.
If he didn’t get his ass shot again.
“What the hell was that?”
I looked up to see a stony-eyed man in leather looming over me. He looked wild. Dangerous. I was reminded again of the stark difference between the two men I’d had in my life. I was glad to see him, as pissed as I had been the past few days. My heart still leapt at the sight of him.
The butterflies might be gone with Zach, but with Preacher, they were putting on a freaking show. Then again, the morning sickness might have something to do with it. I took a sip of my ginger tea to steady myself.
It was time to tell him, I realized. I had to tell him about that baby.
Assuming he was sober this time.
I gave him a tentative smile.
“I have something to tell you, Preacher.”
“Who was that?” He narrowed his eyes, ignoring my words. He glared at me, not caring what I had to say. “Who was it, Cynthia?”
“Huh? Oh, that was Zach.”
“Your ex. You hanging out with him, now?”
&nb
sp; “What? No! He said he wanted to do something for the church. Give back.” I held out the envelope. Preacher’s eyes glanced at it dismissively before snapping back to my face.
“So he didn’t try and get you back? He didn’t just give you a goddamn ring?”
I swallowed. Preacher looked furious. He must have seen the bling from across the street. Crap. This was not good. He looked like he wanted to find Zach and break his legs.
“He . . . well, he tried. I said no, Preacher.”
“What have you been doing to make that guy think he could come in here and ask you to marry him?”
“Nothing,” I stammered, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl in front of the principal. “He didn’t . . . he didn’t get a chance to ask. I wouldn’t let him.”
Preacher’s eyes were hard. Cold. It was like looking into a stranger’s eyes. I fought the urge to back away from him. This is Preacher, I reminded myself. Rough around the edges. Dirty. But not mean. Never cruel.
“You said you didn’t talk to him.”
“I don’t! I never respond to his texts or answer his calls. But I guess he’s been . . . keeping tabs on me. He didn’t know about you. He thought I was single—had been single—this whole time.” I lifted my chin. “He said he’d been single, too.”
“So he’s been waiting years for you and then he just gives up? Like that? I could see that fucking diamond all the way from across the street. You could probably see that fucking thing from outer space. He’s trying to buy you with all that football money, Cynthia!”
Was that a tinge of fear I heard in his voice? Jealousy? He must have heard about Zach’s contract. Seemed like Preacher was keeping tabs, too.
“He wasn’t! I think he meant it! He is sorry. He wanted to start over. I believe him. But I told him no.”
“You did,” he said, looking skeptical. He wasn’t looking at me in that adoring way he usually had. He was looking at me like I was someone he didn’t know. Didn’t like. Didn’t love. “And he just said, okay, no problem, see you later?”
“I told him about the baby!” I shouted. Preacher stared at me. I stared at him. I wasn’t sure which one of us was more surprised.
“What baby?” His voice was dangerously low. So low I could barely hear it.
“We’re having a baby. I’m pregnant,” I whispered brokenly. This was a far cry from the happy moment I’d anticipated. To think, I’d actually been excited to tell him. But his jealousy was ruining it.
Then again, he kind of had a right to be mad.
“You told him,” Preacher said as he stepped closer, “about our baby.” Another step. “Before you told me?”
“I . . .” My eyes darted around wildly, looking for an escape that wasn’t there. Preacher was twice my size and surprisingly fast for a man his size. I’d seen him move quickly when he needed to. I couldn’t outrun him. “I didn’t mean to. It just . . . happened.”
He took another step. We were just a few feet apart now. I stood up, feeling a sudden, inexplicable urge to run.
“I was about to tell you. I was coming across the street next. I just wanted to get it over with.”
“Get it over with?” he asked incredulously. I realized my mistake a moment too late.
“Seeing him, I mean,” I tried to explain. But he wasn’t having it. If steam could come out of his ears, I was pretty sure it would have. He grabbed for me. I darted away and cursed, kicking as I was lifted up from behind.
“What are you doing? Put me down! You shouldn’t be lifting me,” I screeched, annoyed and worried about him at the same time. Love does that, I realized. I loved the bastard, even though he was manhandling me like a sack of grain.
Very carefully manhandling me, but still.
Preacher didn’t say a word, justify what he was doing, or put me down.
Before I knew it, I was in the air, facing upward, being carried gingerly across the street to the parsonage. A door was kicked open. Orders were barked at the guys, who were sprawled all over the tiny chairs in the kitchen eating their lunch. I was carried upstairs, thrust into the bathroom, and left alone. Preacher gave me a grim look and then shut the door. I heard a lock turn and stared in shock.
Had he . . . just . . . locked me in the bathroom?
I slid my hand into my pocket for my phone. It was gone. So was the check. He was a pickpocket on top of everything else!
“Dammit, Preacher!”
It wasn’t long, but it felt like forever. I was waiting for someone to let me out. The parsonage was quiet. Empty. I had tried pacing, but the room was too small. I tried sitting and reading the shampoo bottles, but I was too restless and worried.
What on earth was Preacher planning to do with me?
A door opened. I heard muffled voices downstairs. I cocked my head, trying to listen. Then familiar heavy footsteps on the stairs. I waited but the door didn’t open. I pressed my hand to the door, wondering what he was doing.
Then the door opened and I knew. His face was tight with controlled anger. That’s what he’d been doing.
Getting control of his emotions before he dealt with me.
I gulped nervously.
“Do you need to use the bathroom? It’s a long drive.”
I shook my head. I’d peed about fifty times, it seemed like. More out of boredom than anything else.
“Drive? Where are we going? I need to pack.”
“Don’t need clothes,” he said as he grabbed me and carried me down the stairs, but I saw that he had luggage waiting by the door. I even recognized one of my bags. Maybe he’d gone to my place to pack?
This plan of his was way too thought out for my comfort. I had no clue what he had in mind, or if he was doing this to punish me, or what. I didn’t like being in the dark like this.
“We can’t just leave! The church . . . my classes—”
“It’s handled,” he barked at me. He was really angry, I realized. More than angry. Preacher was out of his mind!
“You could ask me to go, instead of manhandling me!”
“Fine, will you come away with me for a few days so we can work some things out?”
I stared at his face, trying to read him. The look in his eyes was hard and unyielding. But at least he was asking.
I nodded, sealing my fate.
The door to the parsonage opened and I saw four huge bikers waiting outside. They all stared at me solemnly. Except Nick, who wore a faint smirk on his handsome face. He tipped his cowboy hat to me as we passed by.
“Safe travels, Preacher,” he called out. “And good luck, Miss Cynthia.”
Good luck? What was that supposed to mean?
My eyes were huge as I stared back at the gigantic men standing outside the parsonage. Nick was still grinning. Hunter looked almost grim.
Meanwhile, Preacher had strapped me into the passenger seat of a brand-new looking SUV and carefully shut the door. I stared as the lock clicked remotely. He’d locked me in for the short trip around the car to the driver’s seat.
That’s when it hit me. I was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.
We were both utterly silent as he pulled out into traffic and headed for the highway.
Chapter Thirty-One
Preacher
She won’t leave me. She can’t. I won’t let her.
My knuckles were nearly white as I gripped the steering wheel to my brand-spanking-new SUV. It had taken some doing, but Cain had a contact at a car dealership who had agreed to a fast deal in exchange for a boatload of cash. He’d set up the insurance and everything on the spot. The whole thing had taken less than an hour and cost a fortune, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t give a damn about the money.
I just had to get my woman safely out of town and away from her ex.
Cynthia and I were going to have a very long, very intense talk about the rest of our lives.
Or rather, I would do the talking and she would do the begging. And whimpering. And coming, if I decided to go easy on her.
I smiled grimly. In the mood I was in, it was highly unlikely that I would go easy on her ever again.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach was still there. Seeing them together. Both young and beautiful. They had looked perfect together.
And when he showed her that diamond . . . well, fuck. I could afford a big-ass diamond too, but she didn’t strike me as the big-ass diamond type. Hell, I’d get her an even bigger one if she would just agree to be mine.
It was like I was back at the beginning, wanting something too beautiful and precious for an old dog like me. But now that I’d had her, I was never, ever going to let her go.
If I was borderline kidnapping her and taking her across state lines, I didn’t much care. If she left me, nothing would matter anymore, anyway. Without her, I was nothing.
A washed-up old man with sand, tequila, and motor oil running through his veins.
I glanced at the quiet beauty next to me. She looked worried. She should be. I gruffly told her to take a sip of the mineral water I’d brought and shoved a bag toward her with prenatal vitamins and ginger chews.
“I already took my vitamin.”
“Fine. But this is a better brand.”
She held the bottle up. I glanced over to see that she was reading it. Then she put in back in the bag and stared straight ahead.
“Okay.”
I grunted at her easy agreement. I’d gotten the 411 from Angel, Lucky’s lady. She knew all kinds of health stuff and the best brands with the most rigorous standards. She’d tried all kinds of therapy for her kid. Infrared, PEMF, stem cells, you name it. Some helped. Some didn’t. Nothing erased the issue, but getting one step closer to being healthy made a huge difference in her daughter’s life. She called them health hacks.
Now everyone in the Devil’s Riders called Angel when they needed advice that was more than black and white, take two and call me in the morning.
Kaylie might be the club’s official little mama bear, but they had a whole crew of strong ladies down there. Up north with the Untouchables, too.
I wondered what those old ladies might solve if they ever all got together. World peace, probably. Global warming. Hell, they’d probably save the polar bears.
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