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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.
