Undeserving (Undeniable #5)(92)

Feeling an unexpected flare of protectiveness, Debbie's hands went to her stomach. "It's Preacher's baby," she countered.

Another cruel smile split his lips. "Yeah? He marry you?"

When Debbie didn't respond, Rocky's smile grew. "Didn't think so."

He pressed a hand on the wall beside her and bent his head to hers. He captured a lock of her hair and tugged hard.

"You know, me and my boys, we got a rule. Don't matter which one of us she's fuckin'. If she ain't married, she's fair game." Again the dry, woody stench of whiskey engulfed her.

"You're a little fatter than I like, but you sure look sweet." He stepped back a fraction to look at her, and inside his vile gaze, Debbie saw all the sick and twisted things he wanted to do to her.

"Wh-where's Angel?" She stammered. Wishing for her pocketknife, Debbie cursed herself for no longer carrying it.

"Who?" he asked and laughed again. His hand dropped from her hair to her chest, just above her breasts. His fingers dipped between her cleavage and cold panic lodged in her throat, freezing her in place.

Then Rocky was suddenly gone. Wrenched away from her and shoved up against the opposite wall. Preacher quickly advanced on Rocky and gripped him by his shirt collar.

"Don't you ever touch her!" he shouted, his voice quaking with rage. "Not fuckin' ever!"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me," Rocky growled.

Dark eyes stared into dark eyes, and both men's features tightened further. The tension between the two was tangible, rolling off them in menacing waves.

"You don't touch her," Preacher repeated coldly. "Ever."

All around them Road Warriors had paused in their debauchery and were watching the exchange with wary expressions. Crazy-8 and Knuckles had also joined the fray. Fists clenched, bodies taut with aggression, they met the wary gazes of the surrounding Road Warriors with hard, unyielding stares.

It was Rocky who relented first. Smirking, he put his hands in the air. "Whatever you say, Prez … "

Preacher took a halting breath and released Rocky with a shove. Quickly straightening, Rocky turned and stalked off down the hall, but not before winking in Debbie's direction.

Then Preacher turned his blistering gaze on Debbie. His eyes were on fire. The tendons in his neck and arms were bulging, straining beneath his skin.

She shrunk back against the wall as he advanced on her, but made no move to stop him as he grabbed her arm. Holding tightly to her, Preacher marched her down the hallway. As pregnant as she was, she had to practically run to keep up with his long-legged stride.

He brought her to a sudden stop outside of the room he always kept locked, and after fumbling with his keys, threw open the door. One look at the lethal expression still marring his handsome features and Debbie hurried inside. Preacher slammed the door shut behind them, pitching the room into near darkness.

A light flickered on, brightening the room and highlighting the thick layer of dust coating nearly everything inside it-a desk and chair, numerous family photos, and a long, rectangular table with enough chairs around it to seat every member of the club.

While the rest of the clubhouse smelled lived in, this room smelled stale and unused. Debbie's stared briefly at the desk in the corner and the framed photograph resting on top-a black and white snapshot of a young Gerald and Ginny, a swaddled baby in Ginny's arms, and the clubhouse towering behind them.



       
         
       
        

"What the fuck are you doin' here?" Preacher snarled. "And where the fuck is Tiny?"

"Who are all those women?" she countered, her voice trembling-with anger or fear, she didn't know. She gestured toward the door, residual panic making her movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Preacher's frown deepened, making the angry lines in his face appear twice as pronounced. And Debbie was once again struck by how different he seemed.

"I told you not to come here. You bein' here is doin' the exact opposite of what I told you to do!"

"I thought you had business to take care of!" she shouted. "But you're throwing a party? Is this what you do on the road?"

"What happens here or on the road isn't any of your business."

Shocked, Debbie blinked. Her eyes filled with tears. "Is this what you want, then?" she whispered.

"Is what what I want?"

"Those disgusting women!" She thrust a finger toward the door. "I saw Knuckles and Crazy-8, and I saw you!"

Preacher regarded her coolly. "I don't know what you think you saw, but those women are hookers, bought and paid for. And I haven't touched a single one of ‘em."