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“Holy shit, Preacher. You may never get rid of me now,” she pants as I wrap my arms around her.
In seconds, Gia is asleep, her words still echoing in my mind.Never get rid of me.I don’t want to get rid of her. I knew the moment Hector’s men snatched her away from me.
Hector.
He can’t exist, not anymore.
I give it a few more minutes until I’m sure Gia is asleep before I climb from bed and head to the clubhouse. It’s a short drive, and I kill the lights before I turn into the parking lot and make my way toward The Chamber.
Toward Hector.
Inside, the lights are off, and there are no prospects in sight, which is weird. Really fucking weird, the more I think of it, but I don’t waste time worrying about why there’s no one here to protect Hector. It’s better this way.
No witnesses.
I pull the gun from my holster and screw on the silencer as I get closer and closer to the chair that was occupied by Pastor Braden not so long ago. I reach above me and tug the string hanging from the bare bulb.
I smile when the light flickers to life, but my smile quickly fades at the sight of Hector, head leaning back, eyes open, and blood running from the open wound at his throat.
My first feeling is relief that the fucker is dead, but on the heels of that comes anger that someone stole my chance to be the one who kills him.
I shrug it off, glad that he’s dead. Now, I just want to get back to Gia.
MyGia.
I get back to my woman, wrap her in my arms, and fall asleep.
The first night of many, I hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gia
“Whisk the eggs quickly and slowly add the milk or heavy cream.” The bubbly blonde on the YouTube video makes this all sound like it’s super easy.
It’s not. Whisking the eggs is easy because I’m a master at scrambled eggs. Brunch? Not so much. But after the amazing bang, I got last night, and then super early this morning, the least I can do is feed my man.
That’s what Preacher is, my man. I’m claiming him. I licked him—long and slow—and he belongs to me now. “Okay, milk and eggs whisked. Done.” I tap the play icon on my phone.
“Now it’s time to get the things that will make your omelet super yummy! I prefer scallions, enoki mushrooms, bell peppers, and goat cheese, but you should pick your favorite ingredients.”
I pause the video and head to the fridge. It’s mostly empty, but I manage to find two types of cheese, bell peppers, and ham.
“This works,” I say to myself and spot a lone tomato in the vegetable crisper. “Score!”
Kitchen Barbie walks me through the best way to slice everything, and I start sautéing veggies with a laugh. If Mom could see me now, she’d absolutely shit her pants to watch me cook an omelet. A fucking omelet! Well, it’s not technically an omelet until I add the eggs, but when I do, pride washes over me.
I sprinkle it with salt and pepper, feeling like a hot shit chef as I successfully flip the omelet over and cook it a few more seconds. I just get it on the plate when Preacher enters the kitchen.
“Morning,” I tell him with a wide smile, the kind you only wear after you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life the night before. “I made breakfast, or brunch, I guess,” I say as my gaze slides to the clock on the stove that says it’s just after eleven.
“Morning,” he growls and wraps his arms around me. He’s still hot from sleep, and his morning wood presses against my belly.
“A very good morning,” I tell him and wriggle against him.
Preacher pulls back and takes in what I’m wearing. “That’s my shirt.”
I smile and grab the hem, tugging it over my head and throwing it at him. “Take it.”
