Page 85 of Preacher Man

Adorable little she-boy. He wondered how nasty she could take it. He let his stare continue.

He didn’t mind some of his circuits being shot to hell. Who was perfect anyway? He had money, he could go anywhere. He chose to be where he was because he just did. It suited his life, besides, his brothers would fall on their asses without him.

"There won't be another time." He took a step away.

And began to count in his head.

"Hey, wait up." He reached three.

Lawless smiled to himself and turned half of his body, his wide shoulders rolling under his Renegade Souls jacket. He was always proud in his club clothes. He’d worked for it, earned it, no one could take that away from him. The little wild pup had pulled himself up from the gutter with no help whatsoever. Of course, he felt pride. He could have become feral. The public just didn’t know.

"I suppose we can go somewhere to talk." She hedged licking the corner of her lip drawing her eyes all over him like a hot bath submerging to the deep end. She went from his shaved head, stopped at the ink and roamed.

Greedy meat.

Talking. Right. Sure. Not today.

Lawless palmed her neck, sinking his fingers into her flesh with a bit of bite to the hold. Testing. And felt her shiver.

Submissive meat at that.

Just fucking perfect.

For tonight anyway. It wasn't his way of life. Sometimes he wanted a real feminine type.

Other times men.

Sometimes something in between. His preferences had many faces and flavors.

Sometimes he wanted steak, and then other nights’ lobster.

Who judges a man's appetites?

What didn't ever change was the control. He drove his own bus.

What was the term for it the screwed-up media had coined it; Lawless was sexually fluid.

Maybethatshould be his new tattoo. He leered a wicked twist of his lips. Women called him pretty, handsome, sexy, he was just himself.

He wrapped his full palm around that slim boyish neck when he heard talk from his boy's table. "I gotta go, Zara is meetin’ up with the social worker and the kid tomorrow, and somehow that means I gotta help with some shit or other." Rider laughed but it wasn't what Lawless heard that had him halting mid-step like he'd been shot in the torso with plutonium bullets.

Acid gurgled up his windpipe almost making it hard to breathe.

It was what he felt in that beat of a second.

Palpable electricity.

"Stay." He told her and stalked back over to the boys. Words vomited out of his lips. "Prez. Z-girl said the kid … Angela, was bitching about homework and needing a computer. You tell her to tell the kid, she gets all A's up until Christmas, a laptop is hers."

The. Table. Dropped. Silent.

Every one of them shutting up at the exact same time.

All his brother's eyeballs were on him.

Lawless didn't blink.

"Say what?" Rider asked finally. Suspicion in his tone.

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