“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To get rid of me,” Preacher said. “You know when I first heard about you, I was wondering if I’d be able to handle you. How I was going to deal with another cop breathing down my fucking neck. I mean, your entire resume was painted as to how amazing you are, but the truth is, you’re not perfect. You’re a piece of shit.”
“What are you going to do with that pipe?” O’Klaren asked.
Preacher lifted it up. “I’m going to bash your face with it. You see, O’Klaren, you’ve made a lot of enemies. So many enemies in fact that a lot of people can’t stand to be around you. Not that I blame them. I wouldn’t want to be around someone like you either. Now all those times you’ve hurt others, it’s coming back to bite you in the ass. I finally figured it out, you see. They didn’t just send you here to take me out. You’re not here on any special mission. I was happy for you to play the asshole on a pedestal, but you had to go and hurt her, and now, I can’t let you get away with it.” Joanne moved, and he swung the pipe, hitting O’Klaren across the face. “Before you die, you’re going to be in a lot of pain. Pain caused by me, and you are going to pray long and hard you never tried to take me out.”
He hit him again, this time, knocking the son of a bitch out cold.
“Can I go back to the clubhouse now and take a shower? I don’t think I can stand to have his drool on me. He’s disgusting.”
“Head back,” Preacher said. “Bishop’s upset about something. Let me know if you hear from him.”
“What’s he upset about?” she asked.
“Nothing to concern yourself with. Just know, he’s not happy and leave it at that,” he said. He looked toward Bear. “You’re coming with me, right?”
“Yeah, of course. Do I need to send some boys to handle your boy?”
He shook his head. “Bishop will come around in his own good time.” He bent down, grabbing O’Klaren’s shoulders. Together, they dumped him in the trunk of his car. For now, he didn’t need Bear thinking about his daughter or Bishop. He had to get his head in the game.
After phoning the clubhouse and discovering Bishop wasn’t there, Robin tried his cell phone number, but he didn’t pick up.
She was nervous.
What if he went straight to Bear?
Pacing the length of the house, she’d long washed up the dishes. There was no point in even attempting to make any food.
Preacher wouldn’t be home, and she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it, not with worrying about Bishop or where he was.
“Where are you?”
She tried his cell phone again, only for it to go straight to voicemail.
Slumping down on the sofa, she closed her eyes. She hated Bishop finding out that way. She couldn’t think of a worse way of telling her best friend.
Checking the time, she saw he’d been gone two hours already.
Getting to her feet, she started to pace again. All she could do was pace.
“Where would you go if not the clubhouse?”
He’d taken his bike, so the only logical explanation was the fact he’d gone for a ride.
She walked into the kitchen and poured herself some old coffee. She put it in the microwave to warm it up.
If Preacher was gone all night, she wanted to be awake for when Bishop finally arrived home. Not that she’d have the first clue as to what to say to him.
How could she talk to Bishop about what was going on between her and his father? None of it made sense, not even to her.
She sipped at her coffee as she heard the unmistakable sound of a bike arriving home.
She rushed toward the window and the floodlight Preacher installed was on. Rain had started to pour down, but she didn’t care. Without grabbing a jacket, she opened the door and saw Bishop, straddling his bike. The light at the front glowed forward.
“Bishop,” she said.
He looked toward her but didn’t get off.
Stepping out of the house, she walked down the small set of steps, and rushed toward him. “What are you doing?”
“What does it matter to you? How long has it been going on?”
“Come inside and we’ll talk about this. It’s wet.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I want to know how long you and my father have been lying to me.”
“We haven’t been lying to you, Bishop,” she said.
“You’ve been having sex behind my back.”
“Look, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Preacher had business—”
“So it’s Preacher now? I’m surprised you’re not calling him Caleb or Mr. Keats.”
“You don’t have to be this way,” she said. She didn’t want to argue with him.
“What are you to him? His whore?”