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It wasn’t even about Preacher.
It was about the earnest young man sitting across from me. A young man who had turned out amazingly kind and thoughtful, even without positive male role models other than Paul and now, Preacher. I’d seen dozens of young men go bad in better situations. Guys I’d gone to school with. Guys who didn’t have a choice but to do bad things to survive. Guys who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
In a neighborhood like this, it was almost always the wrong time.
The truth was, I more than cared about the kid. I admired Marcus very much.
“That must be very confusing and upsetting.”
His eyes lifted to me.
“I knew he was packing. Selling drugs. If I had gone to the police . . .”
I shook my head vehemently. That might be the right thing to do, but not for a kid. Not with a violent gang. Not unless something was happening at that very moment that he could have stopped.
“No. No way. That could have gotten you hurt instead.”
“That’s what Preacher said,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“When I told him about the drugs and guns and stuff. He said it was better to stay out of it unless someone was getting hurt. And then I should come to him, not handle it myself.”
“Well, that last part is very good advice. I don’t know about staying out of it for us adults, but for someone your age, I agree with Preacher.”
“He really didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“What I told him about my cousin. I didn’t say who it was. I just said it was someone I used to be tight with.”
“No. He didn’t tell me. He would never discus anything you two talked about in confidence.”
He nodded, looking slightly reassured. But the hangdog expression was still there. I sighed.
“This is not your fault. You did not shoot him. I know for a fact that Preacher will not hold you responsible, no matter what your cousin did. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I want you to come back when he’s settled and talk to him. He won’t be having office hours for a few weeks, but I know he’ll make an exception for you. In fact, you’ll be doing him a favor.”
“Yeah?”
“Most definitely. He’s going to be bored. And I know how much he cares about you.”
I watched as Marcus chewed that over. It seemed to brighten his expression a little bit. I fought back tears. That sort of thing did not go over with the kids around here.
“He’s really going to be okay?”
“Yes,” I said, opening the door and letting him out. “He is.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Preacher
“Have another bite,” Cynthia said cajolingly, leaning forward from her perch on the coffee table. I could see right down her shirt when she did that. Got a nice whiff of her scent, too. My dick was instantly hard.
Hell, I’d been constantly hard around her since the very beginning. The only issue now was that she wouldn’t fuck me. Again.
“I’m not hungry,” I said petulantly. I was tired of being treated like a child. “Come and sit in my lap and let me play with those titties.”
“Preacher!” She squealed, slapping my hand away. I hissed in frustration. It had been a whole damned week and my lady was not giving up the sweet pussy. “You are not cleared for strenuous activity.”
“It’s not strenuous if I just use my tongue.”
She blushed and shook her head at me, standing up to clear the food away. She was always buzzing around me like a pretty little bee. A bee I wanted to fuck with every fiber of my being.
“Let me watch you then. Play with yourself for me,” I called out.
She gave me a shocked look over her shoulder as she washed dishes in the kitchen. She’d been waiting on me hand and foot ever since my release. It was nice having her around, but I wanted more than a sponge bath, dammit!
Though the sponge bath had been kind of fun . . .
“I don’t do that.”
“What?” I stared at her. “Never?”
“Not a lot, and not in a long time.”
“Woman. Get your ass on that coffee table, spread your legs, and put on a show.”
“Preacher! I can’t!”
“You can. You want me to get better, don’t you?”
“Of course, but . . .”
“Well, I need endorphins. Orgasms are the best healers.”
“I told you we can’t . . .”
“We won’t. You do you and I’ll do me. No jostling.”
“The guys will be back soon.”
“No, they won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I hung a sock on the doorknob. Both of them,” I added.
She chewed her lip and stared at me.
“Come on, hellcat. I need to see that pussy. I’m fucking begging you.”
“Okay, I’ll . . . I’ll try.”
I leaned back on the couch and waited.
Cynthia dried her hands on a dishtowel and walked over to the couch. I stared as she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and peeled it off her shoulders. My mouth went dry at the sight of those glistening curves. Her skin had a subtle shine to it all the time. It was like she was dipped in gold. No. She was dipped in magic.
