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Chapter One
“This place is nice and cozy. I can see why you like it so much,” Reaper said.
Preacher stared at his enemy across the room. He wanted to kill him but he couldn’t. In his whole life, he’d never desired anything as much as running the tip of his blade across the man’s throat and watching him die. This was fucking unfair and he couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming. He should have. Two years Robin had been with this disgusting prick, and yet she was still alive. Sure, she’d been hurt when he found her, but who had she been running to, or running from?
“You better shut your fucking mouth,” Bear said.
Neither he nor Bear wanted this man near them, but they had no choice but to accept him into their home. Preacher felt sick to his stomach.
“Or what? You’re going to attack me to death with your words? Please, we all know I’m not dying tonight or anytime soon.”
“You look happy with yourself,” Bishop said.
This was just another cross for Preacher to deal with. Not only did he have Reaper, the fucking leader of Slaves to the Beast, but now he also had his own traitorous son in his home. Two people he wanted to kill more than anything. Things couldn’t get any fucking worse. They probably could, but he wasn’t going to think about that right now. Nope, as far as he was concerned, they’d already gone fucking bad. Never had he considered himself to be an optimist, but right about now, he was hoping for something, anything to make this all right. There was nothing. The need to kill was strong and building with every passing second, but he kept it at bay. This wasn’t the time nor the place to kill all the fuckers here tonight, even if they did deserve it.
“Why shouldn’t I be happy? Do you think this has been easy for me?”
“I think you’ve been pissing yourself laughing at all of us.”
“No, not at all. Believe what you want, Bear, but I happen to love your daughter.”
“Bullshit,” Bear said.
“I need a drink.” Preacher left the main sitting room, going into his office and finding the best kind of whiskey money could buy. He didn’t even bother with a glass. No, this time, he went straight to the bottle. Downing several large gulps, he closed his eyes, relishing the burn. He couldn’t handle this. There was no way Reaper loved Robin. It just couldn’t work. It shouldn’t work. The son of a bitch was a fucking monster. Robin, though, he knew from experience she had a way of getting under your skin without even trying. She didn’t see her charm, or how men wanted to protect her. He did, and even now with the revelation of a baby, he wanted nothing more than to hold her, love her, and tell her it was all going to be all right. He’d find a way.
“I’m sorry,” Bishop said.
Now his shitty night got even worse with hearing his son speak. There was a time he did love his son. Bishop was his world. Not enough to marry the kid’s mother, but enough to care. All of that had changed in the past few months, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t killed him before.
“I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight.” He didn’t turn around to look at his son. He was holding on by a thread, a really tiny fucking piece of thread.
“I know you’re pissed.”
This time, he did look at his son and laugh. “You think this is all? I’m a little pissed?” He certainly wasn’t drunk. He’d need a hell of a lot more alcohol to even start to numb the shit going on in his brain. Of what he wanted to do to his own flesh and blood. No, Bishop wasn’t his son. There was no way a son of his would help his enemy.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Bishop shrugged.
Preacher took another couple of gulps of whiskey. “Let’s start with angry. I suggest you go back to your little fuck buddy.”
“I’m not fucking Reaper.”
“You were supposed to be a Twisted Monster, you little shit. Instead, you gave her to them, and you think a little apology and pretending to give a fuck is going to make it all better?” he asked. “You think that’s all it takes?” Where did he go wrong with this kid? What did he do to have all this shit land on him the way it did? He didn’t have any answers. Being a dad had always been new to him. He knew deep down he wasn’t a good dad, but there were far worse out there.
“I made a mistake.”
“No, you royally, totally, and unforgivably fucked up.” He didn’t know how much more he could control his feelings. Everything was coming at him so fast. Between seeing the baby, the look in Robin’s eye, and knowing what Bishop had done, he was ready to wage an all-out war. His hands shook with his need to kill. It had been a long time he’d felt this way. Any other time, he’d just attacked and done whatever he felt was right, no questions asked, but right now, he was far from happy with any of this. He had an overwhelming desire to fuck something up and that anything could be his son. Right now, as he looked at Bishop, he didn’t recognize him.
Sure, he’d done his best to raise him and he could openly admit he’d made many mistakes. He never, ever claimed to be a good dad. Never wanted to be a good father. He only wanted to get his son from baby, to toddler, to boy, to teenage, and to adulthood. They were all the important stages, but looking at him now, he wanted to kill him. That feeling may never go away.
“I … I didn’t know this would happen,” Bishop said.
“What? You didn’t think my biggest enemy wouldn’t take her and try to use her against me? How fucking thick and stupid are you? Did you learn anything in school, or were you too busy screwing the girls to even care about that?”
“I’m not stupid.”
“Oh, please, you waste so much of your time hating who I am and what I do. You don’t think I know about your all-consuming loathing at being known as my son? Do you know why everyone knows you as my son? My boy?”
He gave him a few seconds, hoping Bishop attacked him. All he needed was a single reason to ram his knife into his son’s face, or at this point, his fist would be just as good. Anything to make this night worth it all. Bishop didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound. Even now, he disappointed him. “Because you haven’t made a name for yourself. You think anyone gave a shit about Caleb Keats? Hell, no. I had to be the man I am today! Me, no one else. When you start being a man for yourself, you’ll learn. Until then, you are royally fucked. The only thing keeping you alive is me. I’m all you’ve got and what do you do, you shit on me, and take the girl who was nothing but kindness and love to you. You make sure she pays.”
Stepping up to his son, he glared at him. “The reason that baby exists is because you were too much of a selfish coward to give a shit. That’s why. When you look at her, I hope you see your fail
ings as a friend. She didn’t do anything in all of this to deserve your hatred. Me? I can handle everything and anything you throw at me, boy! That’s all you are and all you will ever be, a fucking useless boy.”
“She fell in love with you,” Bishop said. “That’s what she did.”
Preacher laughed. “You’re always the one willing to blame. Everything that happened between us was fucked up. You want to know why she fell for me? You really want to know? I was there for her, Bishop. When she wanted you, or someone, I was the one who stepped up. Do you think it was me she wanted by her side? No, it was you. It would have always been you if you’d stepped up and been a real man. But like always, the only thing you cared about was getting your dick wet, and well, she had grown tired of your bullshit, just like we all did. You were always about yourself, never about her. She saw you a couple of times with the women. She knew you were useless, and she only hoped she was wrong, so wrong, but she wasn’t, was she? No, you only care about yourself. It’s why when all of this is over, it’s going to end very badly for you.”
“I need you in there before I tear him apart,” Bear said, coming into the room. “He touched my little girl, and I can’t … I need you in there.”
“Preacher touched her and you got no problem with that,” Bishop said.
Bear walked into the room, a smile on his face. “What did you say to me?”
“You heard me,” Bishop said.
Preacher didn’t stop Bear as he slammed his fist into Bishop’s face. “You should be grateful you’re still standing. I would take my sweet time with you, make you bleed long before I give you a chance to make it up to me. You fucked this club. You turned on Preacher, but as far as I’m concerned, you caused my baby girl nothing but pain. You even let me believe that I was right in thinking she died. Not anymore. The moment his protection of you ceases, I’m having your ass, and it’s never going to see daylight again.”
Keeping hold of his whiskey, Preacher returned to his sitting room to find Reaper with this big old smile on his face, sitting on his sofa and sinking into the seat. There was no reason for him to stop whatever Bear had been saying to Bishop. His son was on borrowed time.
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” There was no denying the gloating look on Reaper’s face as he watched what he’d caused to unfold.
“What’s not to love?” Reaper asked. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch the way you guys were fucking up? Bethany wants her mother and I need her as well. We’d become one nice, big, happy family.”
“A big family? You have one kid.” He wasn’t going to acknowledge that Robin had called their girl Bethany. She’d wanted to call their child Bethany, the one she’d lost. No, he couldn’t go there. Not right now.
“What, you think I can’t have many more? I know what Robin feels like riding my dick, I know how she tastes, and those sweet little moans she makes when you touch a part of her just right.”
Everything he was saying only served to fuel Preacher’s anger. “You got what you came here to do. Leave.”
