Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Suck your cock?”
“Now who is speaking dirty?”
“You like it when I do.”
“You’ve got that right.” He lifted her up on the counter, and through her shirt, he kissed each tit.
She went to push off his jacket, but he had to stop her. “I can’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“You have got the most sexy pout. I’ve got to go and deal with some shit. I want you to stay here. Do you know where Bishop is?”
“He was at the clubhouse. We really need to tell him. I hate arguing with him. I don’t argue. He yells at me about how much of a cock tease I’m being. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.”
“Don’t worry, one day soon we’ll handle Bishop and Bear.”
“I’m nervous.”
“There won’t be a reason to. You’re my woman, baby, and I’ll take care of you.”
“You’ve always taken care of me.”
He kissed her again, wanting nothing more than to strip her naked and love every inch of her body. He loved it when his name fell from her lips. He truly couldn’t get enough. Nipping at her lips, he was tempted to forget about O’Klaren just to feel her wrapped around his dick.
“What the fuck is this?”
He pulled away, and there at the entrance of the kitchen was Bishop.
His son looked like what he’d seen disgusted him.
Robin jumped off the counter, but he didn’t let her go out in front. This wasn’t what he wanted to happen. One look at Bishop, and he wanted to curse. He shouldn’t have been so fucking stupid when it came to letting his son alone.
“What? You? Robin? What the fuck?” Bishop yelled. “Tell me this isn’t what I think?”
“Bishop, please, don’t overreact.”
“Overreact? I just saw you locking lips with my dad. Are you going to tell me I’m seeing things?”
“No, you saw right.”
His cell phone went off, and Preacher cursed.
“Oh, that’s a surprise. You’re screwing my wife and the club calls so you can run on out of here.”
“If you’re trying to tell me I’m a coward, you’re fucking wrong. Yes, I’m fucking Robin. She’s mine, but I don’t have time to deal with this shit. I need you to stay here.”
“Fuck you.”
Preacher grabbed Robin, moving her behind him as Bishop threw a knife. It missed him, but he wasn’t going to stand that.
He advanced toward his son, but Bishop seeing his intent, rushed out of the house. Preacher looked at his son, and he hadn’t wanted it to end like this.
Running a hand down his face, he heard Robin behind him.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“You’re going to lock the doors, stay here, and if he comes back, try to talk to him. Bishop won’t hurt you.”
“He threw a knife. Do you really need to go? We should do this together. What if he tells my dad? Oh, no,” she said.
He cupped her face, making her look at him. “Stop. You don’t need to worry about your father. I’ll deal with everything. I’ve been dealing with all of this shit for a long time now. Trust me, and don’t let this shit with Bishop upset you.” He kissed her head. “I’ve got to go. I know you don’t want me to, but I have to do this.”
“Why can’t it wait?”
“Club business will never wait.”
“But he’s your son.”
“I don’t care. It’s not going to wait. He’s always gotten what he wanted, but it’s not going to happen now.” He kissed her again. “Get in the house. Lock the door. Do as you’re told.”
She didn’t argue with him, and he waited to leave until he knew for sure she was safe and locked in the house.
Once she was, he climbed behind the wheel and took off, heading toward the bar where Bear had said O’Klaren wanted to leave.
This would only work if he got O’Klaren now. There was a small opportunity to get him. Arriving at the bar, he climbed out, waiting. The car engine was still running.
Reaching into the back of the car, he found the metal pipe he wanted. The owner of the bar hated O’Klaren. The cop had taken advantage of an old drug charge on his sheet to get free beer and to cause trouble.
It would seem wherever O’Klaren went, he left destruction in his wake. The squeaky-clean cop his papers had portrayed was in fact so far from the truth. The man didn’t know clean. He didn’t know how to be a good cop.
The door to the bar opened, and O’Klaren stepped out with Joanne by his side. She was struggling to play her part.
O’Klaren’s grabby hands were wandering all over her body, and she clearly didn’t want them.
Clearing his throat, Preacher drew O’Klaren’s attention toward him.
“Now, look what we have here,” he said. “Do you see this piece of shit? He really thinks he’s something, but I can promise you, he’s nothing but a bug. Someone I’m more than happy to squash.”