O’Klaren being a pain in the neck was a problem, but he couldn’t act rashly. It would be so easy to simply slit the bastard’s throat, but it wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, it would only make a lot of situations worse, and he wasn’t ready to deal with worse. The last thing he needed was for someone else who was either worse or better at his job to replace him. The squeaky-clean image this cop had made no sense, not when he knew the truth behind the words. So O’Klaren was good at manipulating people, which meant he was more than just a crooked cop, and he’d come here for a different reason. He believed O’Klaren hadn’t been sent here like Milner had told him. No, he believed O’Klaren had come here for an opportunity. Maybe his biggest mistake was in thinking O’Klaren was sent here after the club, when in fact, the cop came here willingly, because like most men, he liked to be top of the food chain. What better way than to become chief in a small town? He’d already been out, pissing everywhere, laying his claim like a fucking dog.
“Knock, knock,” Joanne said, coming into his office. “I saw you come in here, and I figured you might be lonely and want some company.”
“And you thought you were the best girl for the job?”
“I know what it is you want, Preacher. I can give you anything. I’m so good. You know how much you like to use me.”
She walked over to him and gripped his shoulders, but he didn’t want to be touched. He shoved her away, hard.
“Come on, Preacher. It has been too long, and I know what it is you need. What it is you crave.” She ran her hand down, cupping his cock.
He wasn’t hard.
Grabbing her wrist, he twisted it, not enough to snap the bone but with enough pressure she’d feel it. It wouldn’t take much to hurt her.
He loved the violence, and for him, the way he killed Milly, he’d given her mercy. He should have kept her awake for days, weeks, months, prolonged her torture until he no longer gave a fuck about what happened.
“I said no. Get your skank ass out of my office, right now, before you no longer have a hand.”
She cried out, but the moment he shoved her away, she didn’t fail him.
She ran out of his office.
There was no one he wanted.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, trying with all of his might not to think about someone else.
He’d gladly think of anyone but her.
O’Klaren entered his home and immediately was pissed off. Just looking at the place made him angry. He heard his kids in the background. Their music was way too fucking loud.
“Sweetheart, you’re home.”
He looked at his wife. Her face had too much makeup on, and all he wanted to do was slap her senseless. He raised his hand as if to do just that, but she stopped, whimpering. There was a time she had a mouth on her. She’d talk right back to him because she thought she had a voice, but he’d soon put a stop to any lip from her.
“Get those fucking brats to turn the music down. I can’t think!” He walked into the sitting room, and kicking the coffee table out of the way, he took a seat. “And get me a drink. Now.”
This town, it was everything he’d hoped it to be, but right now, he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Preacher and his godforsaken club were … he couldn’t deny it, fucking brilliant. He’d never known a fucking criminal to tie up loose ends, even better than he did. So far, he’d not been able to find a single hint of any illegal activity going on by the gang, but it was there. He knew it was, and it wouldn’t be long for him to find it. He wanted to do this, to prove that all of those that came before him were fucking pussies. The town itself didn’t exactly require too much in taxing thought. Nothing went wrong, and for the most part, flashing his badge installed fear, and he loved to see it. Preacher was a challenge. He’d expected the club to be sloppy, especially with Milner’s fat ass in the chair, taking bribes.
Downing his drink, he handed her back the glass, wanting more and soon.
She was quick to bring him back his glass full with the nice hard liquor. She stood, nervous, twitching, waiting for him to hit her, but he had no intention of hitting her. Preacher was good at spotting lies, and he needed to keep his slate clean. If he brought down this one biker, he knew it would be the start of a whole new life. There were a lot of bikers out there that needed to be put in their place. He’d take them down, one by one.