Page 61 of Preacher Man

And far from doing good. If he could manage to be steady he considered it as an okay day, a manageable day.

About to close out the message without reply, his thumb had a whole different idea. Cursing under his breath. What the hell. Send it, not like it mattered.

H: 10:07 - I'm fine. How’s the head shrinking, you fixed everyone in Texas yet?

He got the deviant joke loud and clear, the one about the biggest head case craving the taste of a psychiatrist. The little bit of a thing was smarter than most.

There was some biblical irony in that somewhere only Mary Magdalene would understand hitting above her weight grade.

Not even a minute later she replied with a laughing emoji

G: 10:08– Ha Ha! Trying to! Are you coming to Texas any time soon? Miss seeing you.

He could practically see the subtly dripping from the letters. Gauging his reaction, using her head shrink knowledge on a demon would never work, she should know that by now. His chest tightened until he popped up to his feet, pacing the four-foot by four-foot room, glaring down at his phone.

What was the little bit of a thing doing to him? Twisting his insides until he didn’t recognize himself.Miss seeing you.

He wanted to bombard her with a million questions all starting and ending with was she seeing anyone? And then the two-part follow up question being; who the fuck was he and where did he live? so Hawk could do a small matter of homicide. Not anything clean either, nah, for the lucky sonovabitch who got to be with Gia, hold her, touch her as a normal man, he would paint the walls with his blood, his screams would rip so far down into Hawk’s soul that maybe for one night he’d have a slice of peace.

He asked her nothing.

Hope was a weak rebellion not meant for the likes of him. The last time he felt hope he was royally and painfully screwed over by people who knew better.

People of faith were the worst kind of scum. All hiding behind their righteous bible bashing and god-fearing ways. May God strike fear in your heart bullshit. He'd rather be a heathen than swallowing those lies. There was nothing more terrifying than a deluded human speaking for a non-existent entity and feeling righteous about every dirty thing they did in His name.

Hawk's belly sunk hollow, black and empty, much like his chest that corroded desire into something nasty and wrong. Hawk paced until his knees creaked, glaring down at his phone like he could reach through and touch what he was forbidden to want.

What would it be like? He wondered, with his mouth parched, his dick hurting. He wouldn’t jerk off, he didn’t deserve the release.

He wanted a fight, though. Maybe those pretty boys out there in the club would indulge, he could find their weak spots in minutes, those little foibles that made a person tick. It was his skill. You find the tick, you find the pressure point to a person blowing up. And then watch them implode.

Sheinfested his mind, thoughts of worshipping her in dark ways, her laugh would be his reward, her screams his payment for a man worthy of being in her fucking presence and not dying of overexposure to all that goodness.

The devil couldn’t walk into a holy house and not expect a few flames.

Fuck, he needed a reality check yesterday.

How much more could he take of this? Back and forth he paced. From one end of the small room to the other.

The ping vibration in his hand startled him.

G: 10:27- Did I scare you off? You don’t have to be. It would be nice to see you, we didn’t get time to chat in Colorado last year.

And then another right on its tail.

G: 10:28– Please talk to me, Hawk.She included a sticky-out tongue emoji. He wanted to suck on her tongue. Wanted to shove his tongue into her pussy until he drowned.

And then.

G: 10:29 - We were friends a long time ago.Three emoji’s with it this time; a motorcycle, a man, and a woman. He remembered the night he took her home on the back of his bike, dainty fingers clutching his waist, branding him forever.He’d known then.She’d smelled of lemons and he still couldn’t see the fruit without wanting to pulverize it into mush.

His belly sunk lower, feeling the burn of memories.

They were never friends. She was a little bit of a thing he wanted to do disgusting shit to until she was painted in his come and nastiness.

He should have been fucking shot.

Worshipping Gia would have been the easiest thing Hawk had ever done in his miserable existence. He’d found the club, found Rider and by chance he’d met Rider’s baby sister a few years later, whose smile had rocked his fucking world and hadn’t righted itself since. Game fucking over.

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