Page 108 of Preacher Man

All night he came back and forth to the bar, she was highly aware of him wherever he was, could hear his laugh above the din of the bar, her body in tune with him, and every time he sidled up to order more drinks, not looking worse for wear despite the bourbon he was asking for, she suspected he was passing it off to someone else, he gave her sweet compliments, didn’t even mention again what they did in that little room. Instead, Preacher told her how he enjoyed her smile and the way she swayed her hips to the music while she worked and how he noticed her taking care of an old guy who was drunk and needing a cab.

He’d noticed every damn thing all night.

He was letting her know he was with his boys, but more than interested in watching her.

And when it came to closing time, dog tired she cleared tables with the bus boy, told Tom he could leave, Preacher sat quietly at the bar, not at all impatient, just occasionally stroked his beard, took a few calls, made a few and waited for her.

And then he took her home on the back of his bike, arms encircled around his waist, her cheek laid on his spine, the sensation morphing into something she had no words for because it felt so good, more so when he rested a hand over her clasped ones at a stop sign.

Connection.

Preacher stayed the night. And the next.

And the one following that.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“What do you get if you cross a thief with a tracker? War, baby. Utter war. - Grinder.

A week and a day later Preacher had just finished yanking on a Henley shirt and strode through Ruby's place. He'd seen her every night since the night at the bar, if it continued he might have to keep some of his stuff here so he didn't have to keep rushing off back to his place for fresh clothes. He caught a buzzing across the room, he cast a look, his eyes narrowing to suspicious slits. It was the third time he’d seen Ruby’s phone silently lit up with the nameDwaynedisplayed as it vibrated on the kitchen counter in a matter of minutes. Preacher, the ever-nosy fucker that he was where she was concerned. Ruby hadn't mentioned any other man in her life, be it relative or other, but with her penchant for secrets, he still wasn’t sure, and this guy seemed insistent he get hold of her. He cocked his head to see if she was close by. Nope. He could hear the shower running, pipes clanking in the old building. He should have joined her, got her good and soapy. Instead, he watched her phone and this persistent motherfucker.

So, he pressed the green button and answered. Helpful as a saint. Nothing to do with being nosy and wanting to warn this character she wasn’t in the dating market.

"Yo."

"Who the fuck is this?"

Didn't that tone just abrade his nerve endings with sandpaper? He smiled tightly. "You called this phone, who the fuck are you?"

"I want Ruby."

Don't we all, bud."She's busy."

Preacher had had one busy as hell night on a run for Rider, he maybe got three hours of good solid sleep along with the two naps in between bouts of the best sex of his life. Every time with Ruby it became the best sex of his life. His old lady was wearing him the fuck out and he was so not complaining.

"She ain’t busy for me, put her on."

"Look, my man, did I stutter? I said she's busy. Now, who the fuck are you? Or this call is about to check out."

The guy gave Preacher a few select monosyllabic words that all started withfuckandyouending inprick.

“Ain’t nothing to do with you why I wanna talk to her.”

Charm school 101. He smirked offended to his soul. Truly, he was hurt, so no friends then? Was this the absent brother? This complete jackass sounded like someone she’d be related to. She’d filled him in a bit more this past week on just what kind of people she shared blood with. Her sister sounded like an absolute peach. A rotten peach.

"I'm her fucking man, that’s what it has to do with me, either say your shit or not, no skin off my nose."

"Her man?" The nasal voice had the gall to snort. "Ruby is too damn frigid to have a guy, bitch is like the Sahara Desert."

"Watch your fucking tongue when you speak about her, you dizzy-fuck, or the next face you'll be looking at will be mine when I bury you." Preacher's growl was a nasty sound.

The line went quiet.

"Whatever, tell her Dwayne called and to call me back asap. She knows why, bitch better not keep me waiting or else." He hung up before Preacher could ask for his address and what size coffin he wanted.

"Motherfucker." Whoever this Dwayne was he was about to die, damn slowly.

Where Ruby was concerned, Preacher was a walking polygraph. She couldn't lie for shit. Her tongue said one thing, her body another. He listened to the reliable source in the room and believed her body. So, when she came through to the kitchen wrapped only in a white towel he grabbed her around the waist, saw her eyes smile and turn smoky with sex. There was something in those dark depths as she watched him that affected every rib bone in his chest, he’d seen it before, months ago, last year, when he’d caught her looking over at him nearly every time he stepped into the bar, and he never understood what the look was because it was gone a second later, she was unreadable at times, but Preacher knew exactly what it was he saw now. Unbridled passion, a passion so wild it held no borders and thank fuck for that limitless desire that Preacher wholly intended to deserve.