Page 8 of Preacher

She blew out a breath. “You really know how to make a woman feel better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better.”

“No, I’d noticed that.”

I looked at her arm again and felt anger climb right back up my spine. “Get your things. You’re not staying here, and you’re not staying at your fathers old house either.”

Her eyebrows went up in disbelief. “You’ve moved on quickly from the business to apparently deciding where I live.”

“I’m deciding where you don’t, because whoever sent those men may know Rowan’s house too.”

“That still doesn’t make the decision yours.”

I stepped closer until she had to tip her chin up to hold my gaze. “Two men just broke into your father’s business looking for routes and schedules. One of them put his hands on you. Until I know who sent them, you’re somewhere I can keep you safe.”

She folded her arms and winced when the movement pulled at the bruising. My patience disappeared the second I saw her wince. “You’re coming with me.”

“To the clubhouse?”

“My house.”

That stopped her, and it stopped me a little too. Her gaze held mine without wavering. “Your house. For how long?”

“Tonight. Tomorrow depends on what Deacon finds.”

She studied me for another second, and I could almost hear the argument forming. Then she looked around the warehouse at the open drawers and papers scattered over the desk.

“Fine.”

I blinked, and she frowned at me. “Don’t look so shocked. I’m capable of recognizing when something has gone from strange to dangerous.”

“Good. Then we’re leaving.”

“But I’m taking my own car.”

“No, I’ll have Gage bring it.”

Her eyes flashed with immediate irritation as she said my name. “Preacher.”

“I’m not leaving your car here. I’ll have Gage bring it.” I repeated.

“You really do have a control problem. You know that?”

She picked up her bag from beside the file box. “You know, I used to think you were mysterious.”

“What changed?”

“I grew up.”

That should have been funny. Instead, my eyes went to her mouth again, and Holly noticed. The warehouse suddenly felt too quiet. Want had never been complicated for me, but this was. Rowan had trusted me with things he wouldn’t trust to anyone else, including the unspoken certainty that his daughter was a line I would never cross.

But Rowan’s daughter wasn’t eighteen anymore. She stood less than a foot away from me with heat in her eyes and a bruise on her arm that made me want to hunt down the man who’d put it there.

I said her name quietly, and when she asked what was wrong, I held her gaze. “You need to stop looking at me like that.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe you need to stop noticing.”

I should have walked away. Instead, I put a hand against the side of her neck and kissed her.