Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Whoa,” he backs up with both hands in the air, a smirk on his face. “Someone’s got his panties in a bunch.”
“Fuck you, Coop. You know what this ask means for her, the danger it puts her in. Like I said, I know what I need to do but don’t ask me to like it.”
I walk outside to my bike, desperate to clear my head before I say or do something I’ll regret later. It’s not Coop’s fault that Gia is a hacker or that we need her to retaliate against the Iron Kings. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Braden’s, and he’s probably already cuddled up with his wife at this moment.
“Preacher! Oh my God, Preacher, there you are!”
I turn at the sound of the distressed voice I vaguely recognize and find Kathy MacFarlane jogging across the parking lot.
“Kathy, what are you doing here?”
Tears and mascara are streaking down her face, one of the club whores chasing behind her, and she looks at me full of sadness and worry.
“Listen, bitch, I told you no one is allowed over here.”
I hold up a hand. “She’s fine. Get the fuck outta here, Stella.”
Stella freezes and glares at me before she huffs and turns away.
“Kathy, what’s wrong?”
She smiles, but it’s shaky and watery.
“Frank is still missing,” she says over a quivering breath, “and the police won’t tell me anything about it, and now Gia is gone too. I can’t find her anywhere, and she won’t answer my calls or texts. We got into a stupid fight, and I threatened to kick her out, and now she’s gone. What if something bad has happened to her?”
She’s working herself up into a good fit, and if I don’t stop her, she’s probably going to hyperventilate.
“Kathy, stop.” I put both hands on her shoulders to calm her down.
“I can’t, Preacher! My little girl is gone, and it’s all my fault.” Her legs buckle, and for the second time tonight, I’m helping someone else from falling over. Falling apart.
“Pastor Braden is fine,” I assure her.
Kathy shakes her head. “You don’t know that. I’ve been trying to get information for days, and no one will tell me a thing.”
“Kathy,” I bark a little louder. “I just heard from a friend on the force. They’ve located Pastor Braden. He’s safe. And at home with his wife.”
She gasps at my words and shakes her head in disbelief. “No. He’s not…married. Is he? Gia told me, but I called her a liar. That’s why she left. We got into a big fight, and, Preacher, I’m so worried…” Tears roll down her face, and she starts to sob.
“He is, Kathy. He’s been married for decades. I’m sorry.” I put an arm around her and walk her back across the parking lot. “You should go home and get some rest.”
“I can’t.” She sniffles. “Even if you’re right about Frank, Gia is still missing.”
“I’ll find her and make sure she calls you. I promise.”
She sniffles again, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Thank you, Preacher. I was mean to her because I’ve been so worried about Frank. She’s a mess with the drugs and all, but she didn’t deserve it.”
“You’ll have a chance to make it right,” I tell her and hope to the heavens above that I’m not lying, that what we’re asking Gia to do won’t be her last job.
Kathy turns to me and wraps her arms around me. “You’re a good man, Preacher. Biker or not, Gia could do a lot worse than a guy like you.”
“Thanks, Kathy. And you could do a lot better than a man like Frank Braden.”
She shrugs and slips behind the steering wheel of her beat-up sedan. “I’m not sure that’s true, but I appreciate you saying it.” The engine rumbles to life, and though she’s still crying, Kathy turns the car and merges onto the road.
She’s a strong woman, stronger than even she knows because life has demanded she be. She and Gia both.
I hope she never has to find out how strong she truly is because soon enough, Gia will.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gia
I sit on the bed inside Preacher’s bedroom for about ten minutes after he leaves, still glowing and breathless from my self-inflicted orgasm, and wonder what to do next. After a quick hot shower, I toss yesterday’s clothes into his washing machine and, wearing nothing but one of his black t-shirts, begin to snoop.
I know, I know, it’s totally uncool to snoop around some guy’s house, especially after he’s been nice enough to give me a bunch of orgasms, but I’m so fucking curious about this man.
He’s a biker, and I totally dig him. I won’t hesitate to say yes if Preacher asks me to be his Old Lady. But he won’t. He can’t, not with everything that’s happened with Frank and those dirty rotten Iron Kings, but still, a girl can dream.