Preacher (The Untouchables MC 5)

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That was rude of me.”

“You call them like you see them, Cynthia. That’s a good thing, in my book.” He reached out and pushed my hair over my shoulder. “To answer your question, yes. On occasion, I break the law. But I don’t hurt people. Well, unless they really need hurting.”

My jaw dropped open. I’d been right. He was a criminal. But somehow, he was making it sound almost . . . moral.

“Explain to me exactly how someone ‘needs hurting’,” I said in an outraged voice.

“If they are hurting women. Or killing. I wouldn’t beat someone up for stealing. Of course, if someone throws a punch at me first . . .” He smiled as if he relished the thought of brawling, and I stared, caught off guard by the masculine beauty of his face.

He caught me looking and something darkened in his eyes. He leaned in a little. I leaned in a little . . .

A rat ran across my foot, and I jumped, swallowing my scream. But the truth was, I was relieved. Something disturbing had been happening to me, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

I had come really close to kissing Preacher, of all people.

“Dammit!”

“Good thing you’re wearing sneakers,” he observed.

“You don’t wear sandals in this neighborhood. Not even in July.”

He grunted and looked down at his boots. I followed his gaze. He had huge feet. The man was big everywhere. He was the most physically intimidating person I’d ever seen.

Strangely enough, I didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated.

“Not an issue for me.”

I nodded, then looked away.

“I’d better get up. Thank you for the escort.”

“Is it safe inside the building?”

I hesitated. Someone had been jumped in the basement a couple of years ago. But it was more or less safe. And I didn’t want to do this awkward dance again in front of my front door. What if I gave into my curiosity and asked him in? Just to ask him about his history of criminal behavior, of course. Not because I was still wondering about what that kiss would have been like.

“Yes. I’m good.” I turned and walked up the steps to my building. “Thanks again.”

“Same time tomorrow,” he said and walked away.

“You don’t have to—” I started to say. But he was already gone. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. For the rest of the night, I was in a funny mood. I had a bemused smile on my face as I made a late supper and took a warm bath. I spent an hour reading for school until my eyes started to drift shut. I was still dreamy eyed as I climbed into bed.

I wasn’t sure, but I was pretty sure Preacher intended to walk me home every single night.

And for some crazy reason, I didn’t mind the idea.

Chapter Seven

Preacher

I walked slowly back to the church, almost daring someone to fuck with me. I was furious. Furious at myself for the reaction I was having to a woman who very clearly wanted nothing to do with me. Even more furious that she was in danger, every damn day, just by living here.

Fifteen blocks. It didn’t sound far. But when I thought of her taking that stroll by herself every single night, it turned my blood to ice. I couldn’t accept it. I wouldn’t accept it. I heard distant gunshots and cursed.

I was in this now. I had to help fix things. I couldn’t leave that beautiful woman here with no one to watch her back.

Cynthia wasn’t just physically beautiful, though Lord above, she was that. The woman made me want to do filthy things to her. Things even I hadn’t done yet. When that rat had run over her foot, all I could think about was how damn cute her feet looked in her sneakers. She was so dainty. I wanted to tear her shoes off and fucking lick her damn foot.

Hell, I wanted to lick every inch of her. I liked women. Everyone knew that. Even though I had been taking time off from chasing skirts lately, nothing explained the way I was feeling right now.

Restless. Pent up. Excited. Hard. But also like a serious fucking dumbass.

And all over a woman who didn’t want to give me the time of day. Not that I blamed her. She was beautiful, brilliant, young, and good. Hell, she was practically an angel the way she cared about the people here, especially those kids in her dance troupe.

There was a lot more to her than just being sexy. She was a hardass, for one thing. Not a bitch by any stretch of the imagination, but not a pushover either. She was tough. Sweet. Shy at times. Smart as a whip. And she seemed to be completely unaware of her effect on me.