Preacher (The Untouchables MC 5)

“You smell like a bar,” she said, wrinkling up her cute little nose. It was almost funny, but her voice was serious. I felt myself sinking in her estimation. “I don’t like that, Preacher.”

I stared down at her. I knew I should apologize. But I didn’t think she would listen.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow,” I said instead.

She nodded coldly.

“I think that’s a good idea. Not tomorrow, though. Maybe we should take a few days without talking . . .” She trailed off, turning toward the door. I followed her outside and grabbed her arm, making her turn and face me.

“A few days? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I need time to think. It means . . . you need to decide what your priorities are.”

“My priorities?” I said, my voice colder than I meant it to be.

“I don’t know what it means, all right?”

I stared in horror as her eyes filled with tears. She looked like her heart was breaking. Had I been so much of a drunk ass that I had done that?

“Goodnight, Preacher,” she said softly, gently pulling away. I wanted to roar. Instead, I just followed her. I stayed ten paces behind. When we got to her place, she turned and saw me. She actually looked surprised.

That pissed me right the fuck off.

Did she really think I would have let her walk away from me? That I would ever let her walk home alone again? She was mine, dammit. And I would protect her, whether she wanted me to or not.

I waited until she was inside and I could see her in the window of her apartment. I waited to see if she would wave or open the window. She didn’t. I turned and stumbled back toward the parsonage.

As I walked, I realized how truly shitfaced I was. I felt like a damned jackass! I wasn’t used to drinking so much straight stuff anymore. It still didn’t explain why Cynthia was so upset. The girl I knew would shake her head or scold me. But this felt different. I had this terrible feeling she was trying to end things with me.

I ground my teeth as I passed a group of hood rats congregating on the corner. My gait was steadier now that I had some righteous anger to sober me up. They were probably packing heat, but they still moved right the fuck out of my way.

Cynthia couldn’t end things with me. She could not. I didn’t have a damned clue why she wanted to, if that was what was happening. But it didn’t matter, anyway.

It would be a very foolish mistake on her part.

It would be like unleashing a dragon. A dragon that would chase her down and hunt her to the ends of the earth. A dragon that would take her back to the dragon’s lair where he would keep her under lock and key for the rest of her life.

I’d been watching lots of Game of Thrones and those Peter Jackson Hobbit movies, but the analogy was perfect. I was Smaug, big and mean and willing to die to protect what was mine.

Because there was no way in hell I was ever letting her go.

Chapter Thirty

Cynthia

My phone buzzed, making me flinch. I was curled up with a textbook that I was definitely not reading, alternating between nausea, tears, and paradoxically, a mild sense of euphoria. I rolled over grudgingly, not caring who was texting me.

Not that I expected it to be anyone other than Preacher.

The man might be brighter than he looked, but he was also an idiot. A drunk idiot who was about to be a daddy. Well, in seven and a half months or so. I sighed, figuring that gave him some time to get his act together.

I tried to imagine him changing diapers and smiled. He would do it. Just seeing the way he protected and cared about those he chose as friends . . . the way he took care of me after making love, cooking for me and feeding me . . . he was going to be a good father if he could curb his wild ways.

The crazy part was that he didn’t even know it yet.

I moaned as a wave of nausea rolled through me again. It turned out I was not one of those cute, once-a-day, barely knows she’s pregnant kind of morning sickness ladies. I was apparently an all day and all night, lying in bed moaning and weeping kind of morning sickness lady.

On the bright side, I was almost halfway through the first trimester, and according to Google, most women only had morning sickness in the beginning.

Hopefully, it would go away sooner rather than later because I was not enjoying this. I felt like I was on a tilt-a-wheel all the time. Of course, having a happy, healthy baby at the end would be worth it, but at the moment, I was wishing Preacher was the one who wanted to upchuck all over the place and not me.