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Chapter Twenty-Five
Gia
I watch Preacher walk away from the table without a word. His body is coiled tight with anger, possibly also disappointment. He really believed his biker brothers would take my word, and while that’s sweet and not at all what I know of men, it’s also incredibly naïve. It’s a lucrative hustle, which is exactly why gangs, motorcycle clubs, mafias, and the like take that risk.
Why wouldn’t the Reckless Souls?
Preacher is angry as he approaches Coop at the bar with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”
“Her,” he shouts and points at me. “She is my problem. She’s selling you a load of bullshit, and you’re all too happy to gobble it up. Why? Is her pussythatgood?”
I like to think so, but I keep my mouth shut, closing my laptop and ready to get the hell out of here and away from this MC.
“Fuck you,” Preacher spits. “Maybe you should wait until Wild Man has done his thing before you keep talking out of your ass?”
This version of Preacher, angry, feral, and badass, turns me on. A lot. He’s always so in control, so seeing him snap like this is hot as fuck. And the fact that he’s fighting to defend me? Hell, my panties might go up in flames right here and now.
Coop laughs and gives Preacher a shove. “Some part of you must believe it, or why would you even bring this shit here?”
Preacher pushes him back. “Because you fucking idiot! If Gia can find it, so can anyone else, like the law. This isn’t the kind of thing Doherty can protect us from, which means someone is setting us up, man. Don’t you get that?”
That seems to have knocked some of the steam from Coop because his shoulders fell, his chest still heaving with the exertion of all that anger. “Shit, man.”
And people say girls are dramatic.
I shake my head and risk a glance at Wild Man looking up in surprise at the argument. He shrugs and turns his attention back to his own sturdy black laptop.
He must be immune to these macho displays. I’m not, and all the yelling is fucking scary. I feel like, at any moment, someone’s gonna start shooting. My fight-or-flight instincts kick in, choosing flight. I’ve given the info; what they do with it is on them.
“Gia,” Preacher shouts and waves me over when I turn to him.
“I’m gonna head out. You guys got what you need from me.” There’s no reason for me to stay someplace where I’m clearly not wanted.
“Come have a drink, and then I’ll take you home.”
I shake my head. “Not going there either.” I have an idea to make some quick cash and a lot of it, and I need to get started on that instead of hanging around here.
“Gia,” he sighs.
“Fine.” I hoist the duffel bag onto my shoulder and make my way to Preacher, leaning against the stool closest to him just so he knows that I’m not staying long.
“I wish I could say I’m sorry about the trouble, but I told you this would happen.”
He nods. “They’re pissed off and worried about what this might mean. You’re an easy target because you’re not one of us.” He freezes and turns with an apologetic look. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
“That I’m not a member, a whore, or an old lady. Got it. Crystal clear.” And I never will be.
“Gia,” he begins as one of the club whores strolls down the bar to us with a smile for Preacher and a big fat nothing for me.
“Gimme a G&T,” he barks at the woman, oblivious to her tits spilling out of her black tank in a desperate bid for his attention.
Her brows dip. “You hardly ever drink. Wanna tell me what’s wrong, honey?”
He shakes his head. “Just that gin and tonic will be fine, thanks.”
The whore reaches for the top-shelf gin and pours more than a shot into a glass with just a splash of tonic water.
“New girl bringing problems to the MC, huh? I would never do that,” she said with a pointed look in my direction. “I know better.”
