“You think you’re a big tough guy, huh?”
“I don’t think it.” He ran the blade across O’Klaren’s face. The man tried to move away, but all he kept doing was pressing the blade to his skin. The first nick was a sight of beauty to Preacher. Blood oozed out of the small cut, and he loved to see it. Drawing the blade back, he sliced across the man’s arm.
It wasn’t a part of his body of any importance, but it did make him bleed, and seeing it made Preacher happy.
He continued to slice in odd directions, never using a simple pattern, but sliding the blade back and forth.
In his mind, he didn’t hear O’Klaren’s screams, which filled the warehouse; no, they all belonged to Robin.
The night they lost the baby would stay in his mind for so damn long. He couldn’t stand it, but he didn’t stop.
He kept on slicing until O’Klaren was a bloody mess and then he grabbed the man’s cock, ready to take it from him.
“No, please, no, fuck, I beg you. Rebecca!”
Bear came forward. His friend stood a few feet away, arms folded, waiting.
“What the fuck did you say?” Bear asked.
“You think you haven’t got problems. Rebecca, she came to me.”
“You’re lying,” Bear said.
“I wish I was, but she came to me begging for my dick and why would I deny a woman who was so desperate for a real man? She wants to hurt Robin.” O’Klaren laughed. “She really hates that girl. She wants her to suffer because she doesn’t want to see Robin get what she believes she deserves.” O’Klaren looked at him. “The way you look at her and Bishop. Robin’s worshiped, and well, what can I say? When a woman looks at me with those sweet ‘fuck me until I ache’ eyes, I’ve got to give the woman what she wants.” O’Klaren looked from him to Bear. “You really shouldn’t leave Robin without a guard, and the boy, he’s a fucking coward. Reaper wanted her pregnant, but he would settle for just having something that belonged to you, Preacher.”
Still holding O’Klaren’s cock, Preacher sliced it.
Letting the piece of flesh fall to the floor, Preacher grabbed his cell phone, not caring about his bloody hand.
He dialed Robin’s number but didn’t get a response. Within a matter of seconds, he’d dialed the house, Bishop’s number, and finally Robin’s again.
“No answer on either.”
In between moans, O’Klaren started to laugh. “Oops, it sounds to me, you’ve made one big mistake.”
“There’s no way Reaper would take my daughter,” Bear said.
“What about Rebecca? This could all be lies.”
“Oh, it’s not lies,” O’Klaren said. “That woman hates your fucking guts for getting her pregnant. She wants to see you all suffer, and it’s going to be fun to watch her get what she wants.”
Preacher slammed his fist into O’Klaren’s face so that he knocked him out cold.
Without looking back, Preacher walked out of the warehouse, going to his bike. Bear was hot on his heels.
“No, I need you to stay here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m coming with you, and then I’m going to speak to that whore of a wife of mine. I need to know he’s fucking lying.”
“And if this is all a ploy to get us out of there, I need you to hold down the fort. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on everyone.”
Bear shook his head. “Robin’s my little girl. I know I haven’t been the best father to her, but I don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s my girl.”
“I know, and I’m going to be doing everything I can to get her back if she’s been taken. I need you to stay here.”
Bear looked back at the warehouse. “You’ll call me the moment you see her?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’m going to go and play with him a while.”
“Go and have a whole lot of fun. I don’t mind. I’ll call you when I find her. Don’t let him die. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
Climbing onto his bike, he gunned the engine and took off, heading back home.
Nothing can happen to her.
I can’t let anyone hurt her.
Robin’s fine. There’s no way Reaper would take her.
He had to be certain.
With each passing second, he didn’t like the pain spiraling in his gut from the thought of Reaper getting his hands on Robin. He should have dealt with the son of bitch the moment he’d stepped into Knight’s Bridge, but Reaper had backed off, and Preacher didn’t want to deal with casualties, not when he had O’Klaren breathing down his neck.
He’d made one big fat error in judgment, but it wouldn’t happen again. He broke the speed limit, getting to his home, and when he got there, it was dark but his floodlights were one. Pulling into his driveway, he stopped when he saw Bishop, on the porch steps, head in his hand, holding his cell phone.