Preacher (The Untouchables MC 5)

Stop it. You love him. He loves you.

Uh, yeah. I was arguing with myself. And it wasn’t going so well.

And then my mother’s voice filled me head.

Just because it doesn’t look like the life you expected, doesn’t mean it isn’t the right life for you. You know what I always said about God and plans.

“He laughs at them,” I said, glancing toward the ceiling. I wasn’t sure where heaven was, exactly, but I knew my mother was there. She might have been hardnosed and tough, but a more loyal, righteous, and caring woman never lived.

“Come on,” I said, stalking back to the office and grabbing my ancient denim jacket. “Let’s go. The sooner I know what’s up, the better.”

Then I can decide whether I really have lost my mind and whether I want to find it again.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Preacher

“You lose! Drink up, Preacher,” Hunter cackled in his deep voice. We were playing poker for various, nonmonetary favors. In this case, if I lost, I had to do a shot.

So far, I’d been losing a lot.

I’d already promised to loan Nick my beach shack for a month, Vice my cabin, and done more shots than I could count.

“It’s not nice to take advantage of an invalid,” I grumbled.

“Invalid, my ass.” Hunter smirked. “We heard you coming like a moose the other day with Cynthia in here. Nick is the only reason we didn’t barge in to see the action.”

I blanched. Cynthia would not be happy to know they had heard us. And the fact that they had been on the verge of cock blocking was totally fucked.

I gave Nick a grateful look. He was sort of genteel, I realized. In a kick ass and take no names kind of way.

“You are very fucking lucky you didn’t.”

“You’re in no condition to whoop anybody’s ass, old man.”

“I can still take you down, even with a hole in my side,” I growled. “And anyway, if I couldn’t,” I added, “my woman would whoop your ass for me.”

That had them all laughing their asses off. They all liked Cynthia. I mean, how could they not? All night, I’d been taking an inordinate amount of sass about how young and pretty she was.

Hell, they’d been giving me shit since that first day.

‘Cradle robber’ was the PG version of the names they’d called me. ‘Pussy hound’ was another.

Reformed pussy hound, I’d told them. And I was.

“That’s it. Get it out of your systems, you fuckers.”

“Next round, I’m betting for pushups,” Drake said, flexing a thick muscle so that the anchor on it jumped up and down.

“And I’m betting for you fuckers to do an extra neighborhood patrol.”

Vice scratched his chin.

“I’m betting for pussy. If I lose, you set me up with some hot chica around here.”

“There is no easy ass around here, my friend. You have to work for it. The ladies around here are tough as nails and not easily impressed.”

“I don’t know. I think I impressed a few,” Nick said in that relaxed twang of his. I burst out laughing and slapped his back. Figures he was the one getting laid.

“You could get laid at a funeral parlor,” Vice groused.

“I got laid too,” Drake said with a grin. “Candy striper.”

Hunter said nothing. I knew he wasn’t the sort to fuck just anybody. A man got more selective as he got older. He was getting on in years, too.

Just like my old ass.

Vice, on the other hand, was a total fucking manwhore. Just a manwhore without any takers at the moment. I started laughing again.

“I’ll ask Cynthia, but I seriously fucking doubt she would subject any of her girlfriends to you.”

“Ask me what?”

We all turned in unison. I was on my feet in an instant, staring at the vision in front of me. She was perfect, as always. Tight-fitting jean skirt that hit just above the knee. Worn-in old plaid shirt with little embroidered flowers all over it, neatly tucked in. White cowboy boots showing off the golden color of her gorgeous legs.

“I like those boots,” I heard Nick say. I reminded myself to smack him later. Gentleman or not, he was a little too fond of my woman.

“Back off,” I hissed under my breath. “I like you, Nick. I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

Cynthia was frowning at me, her arms crossed over her glorious chest.

“How long have you been sitting there? You are supposed to stay horizontal.”

I couldn’t help myself. I knew it was a bad idea but I just could not stop the words. Probably because I was drunk as a goddamn skunk.

“I’ll get horizontal anytime you want.”

She made a scoffing noise and clucked her tongue.

“You know what I mean. You need to rest. You have a doctor’s appointment in two days.”

“Aren’t they taking the stitches out?” Drake asked, making me give him a surprised look. “What? I pay attention. I’ve pulled more than a few bullets out of guys. I know my field dressings.”