Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

Father is seated at the table, his Bible open in front of him. He appears to be reading or meditating or praying. It’s an obvious ploy to make Easy feel uncomfortable. Fortunately Easy doesn’t care.

We deposit the food on the table. I direct Easy to sit across from me instead of beside me even though having him away from my side isn’t what I want.

He doesn’t like it either and moves reluctantly away. I stand and dish the food up for everyone. Father finally shuts his Bible and reels off a long prayer. Shortly after I say ‘Amen’ he starts in on me.

“Your gravy looks watery, Annie. Did you put enough flour in it?”

“I made it the way I usually do.”

He forks apart some of the beef. “It’s pink inside. You know I like my meat well done.”

I get up. “I’ll stick it in the microwave.”

He waves me aside. “No, I’ll eat it.” He gives a long suffering sigh. “You’re not dating my Annie because of her cooking skills, I hope.”

“I haven’t had the opportunity to eat anything she’s made.” Easy replies. He takes a big bite. “Tastes delicious to me.”

“Annie doesn’t cook that often. We have plenty of parishioners who watch out for us as it’s well known she’s hapless in the kitchen.”

I give Easy an embarrassed smile. Father has never complained before. Had the food always been bad and he’s never said anything? “I didn’t realize you didn’t like my cooking, Father.”

He shakes his head in rueful dismay. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but it’s best to get out your flaws now so they aren’t a surprise to this young man later.”

“Of course,” I agree because what else can I do? The urge to flee is strong but I can’t leave Easy at the table alone with Father.

“What is it that you do for a living, Mr. Beasley?” Apparently he’s done cutting me down and now is going to work on Easy. The pot roast is thick and hard in my throat which is good because my stomach is too unsettled to eat more.

“I work for Mallory’s.”

Mallory Manufacturing is an ammunitions plant. It’s a good-paying job with benefits and a pension. Surely Father can’t have any complaint about that.

“I think you applied there, didn’t you, Annie?” Father asks and the sinking sensation transforms into dread.

“Yes, as a line worker.”

“Annie doesn’t have many skills.” Father leans forward with a conspiratorial air. “She applied for many jobs after high school but couldn’t even get hired on at the Quik Stop to pump gas. I’ve allowed her to stay on as the church secretary. A bit of nepotism, I suppose, but charity begins at home.”

“Seems like you need a few skills to be the church secretary.” Easy’s normal smile is gone, replaced by something between a frown and a grimace.

“You don’t,” Father says bluntly. “And are you a gun enthusiast, given you work for Mallory’s?”

“I’ve shot a few in my time,” Easy says. “Honey, this is delicious. Michigan’s going to be sorry that he missed this.”

“I hope you take some home to him,” I answer. I’m aching for Michigan. Is he at home? Is he lonely? What’s he having for dinner? I have to know. “What’s he eating tonight?”

“Probably pizza. Definitely nothing as good as this shit—stuff.”

Father nearly growls. “This club that you belong to, Mr. Beasley, it has been linked to many criminal activities. Do you believe that someone like Annie should be exposed to this?”

“Nope. Annie wouldn’t be exposed to anything like that.”

His foot nudges mine. We both know what I’m exposed to. And how good they make me feel is probably some kind of crime.

“I haven’t seen you in church. Do you attend service?”

“I go to church regularly.” Easy’s eyes are full of mischief. Chapel or church is what the MC members call their group meetings.

“Where at?”

“With my brothers. That’s my congregation.”

“Where two or more of you are gathered, there I am in the midst of you,” I quote Matthew 18:20 in a hurry.

Father narrows his eyes at me but changes the subject. “What’s the most meaningful Bible verse to you?”

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” Easy replies.

I nearly giggle at the expression of outrage Father has at being outwitted.

He continues to grill Easy about everything from how much he makes to how long we’ve been dating without Father’s knowledge. I’m mortified and glad that Michigan isn’t here because only one of them is going to leave offended.

The dinner finally is over and I practically shove Easy out the door. I don’t want him to be exposed for another second to my father, to his offensive behavior.

Easy looks like he wants to protest, say something. Maybe stab my dad with the table knife. But he leaves at my silent plea. I watch as he climbs into his truck and it roars off. I tell myself that this is not the sound of goodbye. At all. But oh, I am worried that he’ll go home and tell Michigan I’m not worth the effort. I take a deep breath to stem the tears that I feel building.

“You won’t see him again,” Father says as I close the door.

“Why not?”

“He’s a man of sin. These types can’t be saved. They only drag others into the pit with them. As your father and your pastor, I’m telling you that this person has a devil seated deep inside.”

“I thought the charge was to love your neighbor as yourself.”

“He is not my neighbor,” Father’s voice is chilled. “Now go upstairs and pray for forgiveness while I cleanse the house of the presence of this foulness he has brought to our home.”

I can’t stand to hear him speak of Easy like this and everything in me revolts. I turn and glare at Father. “I’m twenty-three and I love you, but I don’t think you can tell me what to do.”

His grabs my arm and shakes me. “What have I taught you? The pleasures of earth will only result in the fires of hell. I’m not going to have all my work be tossed aside because you feel some whorish desire.”

“Please, stop.” I’m trembling and not just because he’s pulling my arm rapidly. But I’m afraid. The hard glint in his eye, the straight mouth, are reminiscent of that one time…One time when I was twelve or thirteen I remember asking to go to bowling with a group of girls. He said no. I accused him of ruining my life. He raised his fist and struck me across the face. I reeled from the blow and hit the bookcase. He’d taken off his belt and whipped me hard until I bled through my shirt. I learned not to ask again. He apologized, tended my wounds and we both agreed to never speak of it again.

“Please,” I whisper.

I shrink inside myself.

He shakes his head like a dog shedding water from his fur. “Go upstairs and pray.” His voice has calmed and his grip weakens. I take the opportunity to break from his grasp and run upstairs.

I kneel down in front of my bed. His footsteps follow me up. They pause outside my door. The knob turns slightly. I hold my breath.

“Pray for both of us,” he whispers through the door. “Pray that the devil stays away or we’ll both be sorry.”

After what feels like a century of time passing, his footsteps move away and I hear the garage door open. Hurriedly I pack my backpack again and leave. If I’m going to be punished for something, it might as well be something worthwhile.

Chapter Sixteen

Michigan

Easy stomps into the house. Anger and frustration reek from every pore. He throws a plastic tub onto the kitchen table.

“Roast beef, if you want it,” he grunts.

Curious, I open the container and the rich smell of roasted meat rises. It’s still warm and despite the fact I ate a pizza, my mouth waters. Besides, this is food Annie cooked and eating it will make me feel close to her. I pull a fork out of the drawer and dig in. It tastes as good as it smells and I gobble down half the container before addressing whatever it is that is pissing