Page 17 of Preacher's Daughter


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Against my instincts, I call the only number I know by heart, my Dad’s cell.

Mine’s upstairs somewhere, probably still tucked in my backpack, dead.

He answers almost straight away and as soon as I hear his voice I know this was a stupid idea.

He can tell I’m crying before I even say two words.

“What is it, Faith? What’s happened?” he asks before I can even put a sentence together.

Taking a breath to try and ask him if he knows anything somehow, he speaks right over me.

Preacher.

“I’m glad you rang Faith, are you alright? I want you to make sure and lock all the doors and windows. I spoke to Fitz… and a few other folks, including Sheriff Brodie. Apparently, there’s an armed gang on the loose, held up a bank truck across the state line… man on the loose around our way isn’t unlikely.”

I bolt upright, feeling a new edge of excitement replacing my sadness straight away.

Noah, a fugitive running from a heist?

I don’t know why, but the very idea sets my heart racing again, a smile spreads across my face and I start to machine-gun my Dad with questions, turning the tables on him a little.

Okay, a lot.

I almost squeal with delight as I consider the possibilities. Nothing this exciting ever happens to me, let alone in our town.

“Faith?” My Dad says firmly, skipping my questions. “Now, tell me what happened after this stranger left this morning, which way did he go, and what did he look like? Sheriff Brodie will most likely come by and ask some questions, get tire prints. All that sort of thing… Faith?”

“When are you coming home, Daddy?” I ask, ignoring his questions, glancing at the clock.

“Well, I was going to leave it until tomorrow, but if this man’s who we think he is I’ll be on the next flight home,” he says, sounding like he’s packing his bag as we speak.

Making a face and clenching my jaw, I feel so helpless. Like I wish there was a way I could delay him coming home somehow. So I could go look for Noah myself.

“You don’t need to rush back Dad, that guy’s long gone and if he’s a bank robber, then I’m a supermodel.” I groan, letting the thrill of the fantasy die again.

He left, he had his fun and like any guy would he told me a bunch of crap and when he saw his out, he left.

Simple.

All the old feelings, everything I told myself before yesterday comes flooding back.

In no time I even hear my Dad sigh, relieved.

He can hear his daughter’s safe and she’s definitely back.

“Well, if you think you could manage just one more night?” he asks. “I still haven’t even put in our budget submission… it’s kind of important I do that while I’m here,” he says meekly.

I pretend to stifle a yawn, eyeing the keys to the old dodge on the rack.

“I’ll be okay Daddy. I’ve still got unpacking to do and if I see any strange men in trees I’ll call Sheriff Brodie,” I drone.

“Men in trees? Faith, are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, sounding worried again.

“I’ll be fine Dad. Just tired is all. Must be the weather, love you,” I tell him, sounding off and hanging up the phone.

I groan again when I hear a truck pulling up out front, Sheriff Brodie must be here after all, which doesn’t surprise me.

But when I look out the window, it’s not his truck at all. It’s a different one.

Orange and white.Chapter TenNoahLaying with Faith right up against me, it all clicks for me.

This is what I want, nothing less.

I want her all day, every day and for every other day after that. The details?

Pfft! I’m not interested in the details right now.

Having the girl of my dreams up against my aching dick, still tasting her sweet essence in my mouth as I stroke her hair in her sleep.

It doesn’t get any better than this. This is the only detail that matters, right here in my arms.

I doze for a bit, but soon the noise from the air conditioning unit, the kind of storm that’s trying to blow outside… sooner than later they all start to match the old thoughts coming back.

The shit I need to be doing.

Surely I can have a day off, a little rest is all?

You’ve had two days now already. That case isn’t going to deliver itself.

That damned suitcase.

May as well have the damned thing tied around my neck it’s such a lead weight in my life now. Has been for a whole week now even though I only started out on the road yesterday.

Can’t even shit without taking it with me.

It’s safe under the table, I’m in a preacher’s house for god’s sake. What could possibly happen to it?

But it keeps gnawing at me, same as knowing my truck’s out on the road.

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