Preacher Dom Page 3

  She listened at the bathroom door then opened it. “Darius? You there? If you’re here, I need you to pick me up some tampons. I’m out.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she listened. She opened the door and hurried to the living room, grabbing her purse.

  “What are you doing?”

  She screamed and spun around. “Shit! I thought you’d left, don’t do that fucking shit!” She snatched up her purse and opened it, pulling out her lip gloss and showing it to him. “Did you hear what I needed? I need tampons,” she said, heading back to the bathroom. “And where did you put that outfit, I didn’t see it. And I don’t even like that outfit by the way,” she called. “It makes me look stupid and fat.”

  Back in the bathroom, she held her breath, listening. He laughed. “It does not make you look fat. And you’re wearing it. No arguments.”

  She let out a breath of relief. “Yes sir,” she yelled, as hate burned through her with that title.

  She waited a while, pacing in the bathroom until she was sure he had time to leave. This time she went carefully, searching the apartment. She let out a sigh of relief at finding it empty. Spotting her sneakers near the door, she hurried to get them, freezing when the doorbell rang. Fuck, no, no, not already!

  Snatching her shoes, she tip-toe raced to the bedroom and carefully shoved open the single window. Climbing onto the small metal landing, she hurried down the rickety fire escape ladder, praying it held. She reached the end and dropped to the ground with a jarring momentum then crept her way along the wall to the back garden where the cigarette shop was. Please let that key be there. Staying close to the bushes along the fence, she made her way to the shop and knelt down, feeling for the third brick to the right of the door around the flowerbed. Pulling it aside, she groped in the dark. Fuck please, please! She flipped over the next brick and touched something metal.

  “Oh God,” she gasped, looking all around before sneaking her way to the shop’s back door. She slipped the key in and opened it slowly, remembering the bell on the top. Inside, she remained crouched, crawling her way to the front door. She should steal a pack of cigs. Shit, she better not with her luck. At the door, she slowly stood and peeked out the window, looking around for any signs of Darius. This part of the town was usually deserted except on weekends. And thank God, it was Tuesday.

  Slowly, she turned the deadbolt, opened the door, and slipped out. Just as quickly, she shut it and hurried down the sidewalk away from S&G. She’d make her way to the Super 8 on the far side of town. He’d not think she’d walk that far. She’d have to go through neighborhood yards all the way.

  “Hey, are you Nineveh?”

  Shit. She turned, and one look at the giant man shot panic through her. She shot out, not waiting to see if he would chase her and not even sure he was the dude she was supposed to be with that night. She rounded the corner and ran hard to the next block, searching for a yard. She spotted a small white fence another block off and forced her legs to pump faster, her bare feet making solid traction. She jumped the fence like a hurdle, clearing it with ease and dodged bushes and trees as she headed to the opposite side of the yard. She jumped the opposite fence the same way. The second she cleared it, a car crossed her path and her momentum didn’t allow for brakes. It was like a movie in her head, her palms hit the hood of the car and instinct had her roll across the hood, headed for the other side. If they hadn’t slammed their brakes, she was sure it would’ve gone just like she’d envisioned on a movie set, but instead she hit the ground and got the wind knocked out of her. She managed to get to her knees, only to realize she must’ve hit the car with the left one. Fuck it hurt!

  “Are you okay? Holy shit!”

  Her ears rang as she grabbed hold of the arms pulling her up, helping her stand. They were saying something and she was suddenly staring into those eyes again. The Preacher.

  Before she could wonder, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her. She tried to look around but was riveted to the lion tattoo on his neck.

  The next thing she knew, she was being put in the passenger seat of a car and he was climbing in the driver seat. Just like some kind of crazy, weird, impossible dream.

  ****

  “Bring me to the Super 8, please. Shit, I think I busted my knee.”

  “What were you running from?” Daniel asked, checking his mirrors for a tail.

  “Not your concern, Preacher.”

  “Oh, it’s my concern now,” he muttered. “No turning back that one.” He glanced at her several times. “You’re shaking like somebody terrorized you. You don’t have to live like this. I can help you.”

  She sniffed a light laugh and looked out the window. “You can’t help this kind of stupid, Preacher. I got six months left in Hell, and I don’t mean the town,” she muttered. “Then I’m free.”

  Fury burned through Daniel’s veins at hearing the lie. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “Where you going, the hotel is that way,” she pointed.

  “I’m taking you where I know you’re safe. Home with me.”

  He felt her burning gaze on him then she finally blurted, “Do I look like one of your lost sheep?”

  “Yes, you do,” he said adamantly. “I won’t let you go back there and let anybody beat on you.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she cried.

  “Of course I do. We met yesterday.”

  “You have no idea what you’re doing. You don’t want to fuck with Darius,” she said, turning in her seat to face him as though realizing just how serious he was. “He’s powerful in this town, he owns damn near half of everything. Don’t nod like you know, you don’t!” she cried. “Stop the car,” she ordered, turning forward.

  “I’m not stopping till we get home.”

  “I’ll jump out,” she warned.

  “And I’ll drag you back in,” he assured. “You’re not going to a hotel, you’re coming with me. We can sort the details tomorrow.”

  “Sort the details?” she finally shrilled, gasping and throwing herself against the seat. “Sort the fucking details. Well, Preacher, I’m in a contract and I have six months left before I can get out of it. And if I break that contract, Darius will ruin my father’s career, who happens to be the governor of the damn state.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Daniel muttered, not impressed.

  “What is unfortunate, what does that mean?” she cried.

  “It means Darius The Devil just lost. And I feel sorry for your father, because he’s about to have his reputation ruined.” Daniel met her stunned gaze with his pissed one. “But if I were your father? My daughter’s well-being would come a million miles before my reputation, you can be sure of that. If that’s not the case with your dad, then maybe he deserves to have his reputation nice and ruined.”

  She sat there with her jaw dropped at him. “You’re serious,” she barely said, flabbergasted, facing forward again. “Oh my God, he’s serious.”

  “Dead serious.”

  “And how do you plan to get me out of this contract?” she challenged, back to pissed.

  “I’ll go see your Darius and let him know you’ve got better things to do than serve his sick whims.”

  He turned onto the road before home, ignoring her astonished glare. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

  “I could say the same for him.” He glanced at her. “I forgot to introduce myself yesterday. I’m Daniel. The man who did seven years in prison for shooting his comrades for hurting women just because they could.” He laughed dryly, glaring at the road.

  “Wow,” she gasped. “An ex-con murdering Preacher.”

  “Not murder, murdering is taking innocent life. I was protecting innocent life. If I have to kill to do that and spend life in prison, then so fucking be it.”

  By now her face was lowered but her head still shook. “I can’t… just ruin people’s lives,” she muttered with a lot less fire.

  “What about your life?” Da
niel demanded.

  She snapped her head to him. “My life was my decision. Not my father’s. My father is a good man, he was good to me.”

  “Then he would never want you doing this.”

  “No shit!” she cried, exasperated. “Which is why I can’t let him find out his brightest daughter has been lying to him for the past two years pretending to be a successful real estate agent when really, I’ve been with a manipulating, sick bastard that turned out to be 50 shades of shit, whom I fell flat on my stupid face for like some… some, stupid…”

  Daniel pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, looking at her as she covered her face. “Don’t cry,” he said, forcing the words out. “It’s nothing God can’t turn around. We all make bad choices in life. We live and we learn.”

  “You can’t just break these contracts, Daniel,” she said in a tiny voice, hiding her face from him. “He’ll find me. He’ll punish me. He always finds a way.”

  “He won’t touch you,” Daniel assured. “Not as long as you’re with me.”

  She shot out a laugh, turning to him. “So that’s it? You just snatch me out of the flames and everything’s fine?”

  He tossed his head, considered her words, then looked at her. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “That’s… that’s… ridiculous!” she shrilled, seeming to be begging now.

  “Why is it?”

  “Because… nobody does that.”

  “Well…I do.”

  “What if I don’t want to stay with you, did you ever think of that?”

  “Not really, no.” He looked around then. “Just till we’re sure the coast is clear. Till we get your life back on track.”

  “I’d have to leave the state,” she muttered, not fighting as hard.

  “Then you’ll leave the state. Start over. I’ll help you.”

  She sat there for many seconds and Daniel waited, praying she didn’t fight him. “I’m Nineveh. By the way.” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “Yeah, I heard about the story, just like that wicked city God destroyed.”

  “I know the story well.”

  “Of course you would,” she mumbled, sniffing.

  “That’s the place that was given a warning, a way out of the coming wrath of God.” Daniel waited to see if she’d connect the parallel. “And they took it.”

  She pffed. “They’d have been dumb not to.”

  “Very.”

  She looked out the window. “I think the contracts are legally binding,” she whispered. “He knows lawyers and shit.”

  “Well, I know God,” Daniel said. “He’ll help us figure something out.”

  She looked out at the house. “This is where you live?” she wondered, sounding amazed.

  “My Gramma lives here.” He pointed to the top. “I live up there. The loft house.”

  “The loft house?” She suddenly looked at him. “I have money.”

  “I don’t need your money. Or want anything else,” he said, getting out of the car.

  “Well, I have to pay for something, I won’t free load.” She opened her door.

  “I’ll carry you up,” Daniel said, heading to her side of the car.

  ****

  The thought of him carrying her again made her stomach leap with seven kinds of fear and excitement. Being hauled off the road was one thing, but even then, she’d been distracted with him more than any danger she’d faced. And after having time to think about him, she’d decided he was some kind of holy man. “It’s not that bad,” she said, when he stood at her door.

  “Grab hold of my neck.” She latched on as he slid an arm under her knees and one behind her back then stood.

  Once again, she was staring at that tattoo on his neck as he kicked the car door shut. “Nice tatt,” she muttered, needing something to say as he walked with her like an invalid.

  “I got it one drunk night under the influence of idiots.”

  She inhaled the mild scent of Ivory soap on his skin while trying not to feel his body warmth seeping dangerously deep into hers. “A drinking Preacher?”

  “Not anymore,” he said. “Was my first and last. I was on furlough right after basic in the Army when I got that.”

  “Wow,” she mumbled, impressed. “You can set me down,” she said when he fought to work the key in the door lock.

  “I got it,” he said. “What do you weigh, 95 pounds? Do you eat?”

  The door opened and he shhh’d her before shutting and locking it back. He leaned to her ear and whispered, “My Gramma is sleeping.”

  Nineveh nodded, looking around before leaning to whisper back. “I do eat. And I weigh a hundred and twenty pounds. Which is a lot for my height.”

  “Oh a ton, yes,” he barely mumbled, climbing the stairs. Nineveh let herself feel the cords of muscle in his shoulder and neck. She bit her tongue on do you work out. No need to let him know she was obsessing over his body.

  At the top of the stairs he turned to a door. “Open that, will you?”

  She reached and turned the knob and pushed open the door. “Ohh, how cute,” she whispered, looking around the small apartment.”

  “My Gramma is the interior decorator,” he said, walking to a black leather recliner on the left. “I take no credit.”

  “I’m not breakable,” she assured as he set her carefully down.

  “Oh I know that,” he said back, making her wonder. “You’d no doubt be broken to pieces if you were. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Got a beer?” she joked, drawing his immediate scowl.

  “I just told you I don’t drink.”

  “I’m joking,” she cried. “Geeze, lighten up. I’ll take water.”

  “I have Kool-Aid. My Gramma is old school.”

  “Oh, what flavor?” Nineveh couldn’t stop her smile. She loved Kool-Aid, was her childhood drink of choice.

  “Grape.”

  “My favorite,” she cried, excited. “My mom used to make that all the time when we’d go camping. A huge pitcher of it.”

  “Maybe she knew my Gramma,” Daniel said at the fridge.

  “Sheryl Rhodes,” Nineveh said. “That was my mom’s name.

  “Was?” he wondered, handing her a cute glass.

  “Oh my God, these glasses! They’re so old-timey!” She held up the purple tin cup, feeling like a little girl. Then she remembered what they were talking about. “I lost my mom when I was seven. To cancer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Daniel said. “My Gramma knows everybody in town, I’ll ask her if she knew your mother.”

  She sipped on the Kool-Aid. “Mmmm. God I missed this.”

  Daniel took a seat on one of the bar stools a few feet away, looking at her with his head angled. “Can I ask you some questions?”

  She eyed him as she sipped, her stomach knotting. “Depends what it is.”

  “Personal questions,” he said. “The kind that are none of my business.”

  God, he was so direct. He wanted to know, why shouldn’t she tell him? He’d saved her life practically and was proposing to save her future. “Sure.”

  “How long have you been with this dude?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Does he abuse you?”

  She pursed her lips and looked down. “Yep.”

  “How.”

  “Every way imaginable. And please use your imagination because I’m not painting pictures.”

  “I don’t want those kinds of exacts. Ever. Where were you before that? What were you doing?”

  Nineveh stared at him, unable to get past his first comment. Not wanting to know the most painful details. Ever.

  “What?” he wondered.

  She shook her lowered head, trying to shove it down. And why should that bother her so much? She wanted to say I wouldn’t want to make anybody hear it. But there was something that annoyed her about him never wanting to hear the very thing that hurt her the most. “I guess you’re not into detailed confessions. I can’t say I blame you.�
��

  “No, definitely not.”

  “Good thing for you.” She set her glass on the arm of the chair and held it. “Is that like standard... Preacher protocol? Only getting the details you can stomach? Does that help you remain impartial when receiving confession?”

  Those dark eyes stabbed right into her making her fight the need to look away. It was damn near a physical brutality. She held on to her growing anger, not wanting to defer to him. To any man. Good or bad.

  “I’m not a priest,” he said. “I don’t receive confessions and hand out a formula of prayers and absolve all your problems.”

  “Is that what you think I want?” she wondered, staring back right at him. “To have you hear all my sins and absolve all my problems? Because I don’t.”

  “I didn’t say you wanted that nor did I think it,” he said, looking confused. “I’m just explaining I’m not a priest, I don’t do what they do.”

  “And what are you, what do you do? You ask questions that are none of your business but don’t want to contaminate your mind with the dirty details? Not that I want to ever give you the dirty details but it’s...” she grit her teeth when she lowered her head, unable to face him.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to ever give the details and I wanted to assure you that I didn’t want them.”

  “You made that perfectly clear.”

  “Why are you pissed that I don’t want the details you don’t want to give?”

  She swung her gaze to him. “You said you didn’t ever want those details.”

  “Yes. Right after you said you didn’t want to give them.”

  “But you were already thinking it before I said it.”

  “What is your point? Fine, I didn’t want the details before I knew you didn’t want to give them. Is that bad?”

  “Nope,” she said, shaking her head, looking forward at nothing.