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“Then leave,” I snap, noticing that fucker Larry heading toward the exit. I watch pain flicker through her eyes. “Now.”
She holds her hands up, scoots out of the seat, and moves away. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she says softly. “I hope you have a lovely evening.”
Ms. Prim and Proper walks away with her head held high, and my chest tightens. I’m such a fucking asshole. I hurt her and I didn’t mean to, but the woman’s engaged and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Larry grins as he exits the club. I fucking hate that slimy bastard. He’s definitely up to something. I just wish we knew what it was. I fucking hate being in the dark.
My gaze moves around the club as I try to find Ms. Prim and Proper, but I come up empty. It’s as though she vanished. Fuck, I really should have apologized. It’s too late now. She’s gone.
* * *
Walking out of the club, I’m wondering where the fuck Preacher went. After he got his rocks off in the bathroom, he came back and we drank some more, and then he just disappeared. The woman who sat down beside me never resurfaced, and my chest has been tight ever since. I don’t understand my reaction. I’ve fucked countless women. I’ve shot some down and told them to get the fuck gone, but none have left me feeling like this—like she means something. I shake my head. It’s fucking stupid. She’s getting married and I don’t do attachments. I’ve seen what it’s like and I’m not going down that road.
I turn the corner and come to a halt as I see the scene in front of me. The light from a nearby streetlight shines into the alleyway, giving me enough brightness to see what’s happening. Preacher’s standing over someone with a fucking tire iron. The iron has blood dripping from it, and my brother’s breathing hard. I step forward, noting that Preach is standing over someone. Sirens blare in the distance. I have no doubt that they’re coming this way.
“What happened?” I demand, needing to know what the fuck went wrong. He left me not even five minutes ago.
“This fuck was waitin’ for me,” he says, kicking the man on the floor in the ribs, causing him to cry out in pain. “Tried to swing at my head with this,” Preach snarls. “Fucker’s so damn stupid. He thought I didn’t know he was waitin’.”
I shake my head. “The fuck, man?” I ask, wondering what the hell is wrong with him. “Preach, brother, I fuckin’ told you.” I knew this bastard was going to be setting him up. “You hear that, brother?” I snap. “Do you?”
He takes a deep breath and listens. “Shit,” he says, his eyes widening with realization. “The cops are comin’.”
I move toward him. The fucker on the floor is almost unrecognizable. His face has been bashed in, his head too. By the looks of it, his skull is cracked. Fuck.
“Preach,” I hiss. “Give me the iron,” I tell him as I reach for the asshole lying on the floor. I need to ensure that he’s conscious. My fingers find his pulse and I feel a faint beat of his heart. He’s alive, but I’m not sure for how much longer.
“Go,” I tell Preach through clenched teeth. “Go back to the clubhouse. Stay the fuck out of the cops’ path. Shower and burn your clothes.”
His jaw clenches. “The fuck are you doin’, man?” he hisses. “You can’t do this.”
“Preach,” I hiss. “You’ve fucked up. You’ve got history with this asshole and his family. You and I both know that the moment you’re arrested, shit’s going to go south. Get the fuck out of here and shower. Then burn those fuckin’ clothes.”
He hesitates.
“Go,” I snarl. “Fuckin’ go. Now.”
I know what’ll happen if Preach is the one who’s caught. He’ll end up serving a lot of fucking time.
He stumbles backward, moving toward his bike. His eyes are wide, and I can see the pain in them. My brother is pissed. He’s also angry at me for doing what I’ve gotta do. But he’s my brother. I’ll take the fucking hit.
I watch as he climbs onto his bike and takes off. I’m able to breathe a little easier when he does. I reach for my cell and make a call. I need some tapes deleted. No one can know that it was Preach who did this. No fucking way.
CHAPTER1
REAPER
ONE YEAR AGO
Fuck. It feels so fucking good to be out of that motherfucking hell hole. Four years I served in prison for that fucking night. Four damn years. But it was better than Preacher being inside. From what my attorney said, as I had no prior convictions, I was given a lighter sentence. Four years was light, according to my attorney. They thought I’d be looking at ten years given how serious the assault on that asshole was. But he’s alive, and that’s why I didn’t end up doing life. Had the fucker died, I’d have been fucked. But as it stands, he’s alive and doing well. He just can’t remember that night.
My feet move me toward the man standing beside an SUV with a big old grin on his face. I’m surprised Preach isn’t here. I had expected him to be. Then again, I shouldn’t have. The man never once paid me a visit during the four years I was here. I’m pissed, and when I find him, we’re going to have words.
“Good to have you home, brother,” Shadow says as he pulls me into a one-armed hug. “Been too fuckin’ long.”
I chuckle. Ain’t that the motherfucking truth. Too damn long.
“Where’s the booze?” I ask. It’s been a long fucking four years, and I’ll be damned if I’m not celebrating being home.
