Page 22 of Take Me to Church
Lydia was raised to believe shehadto be sweet. Quiet. Docile and easy going. If she was anything else she was punished. Threatened. Judged. So she learned to tell everyone exactly what they wanted to hear, men especially, even if it wasn’t the truth. That means you can’t take what she says or how she acts at face value.
I run down the hall, needing to get my eyes on her, knowing I’m probably overreacting. I shove the full weight of my body into the back door, flinging it open and stumbling out into the dusky light of the parking lot just in time to see a four-door Charger with tinted windows peeling across the blacktop.
Headed straight for where Lydia is hefting a pile of trash bags into a dumpster.
I don’t have time to think it through. Don’t have time to come up with any sort of real plan.
All I can do is react.
The car comes to a jerky stop a few feet from where Lydia stands. She spins to face it as the tires squeal against the asphalt, stumbling back as the driver’s door opens and Rodney gets out, his jaw set, eyes narrowed and focused on her.
His intentions are clear.
He’s come to collect what he thinks she owes him.
Lydia tumbles backward in her haste to put as much space between them as possible, her ass hitting the ground hard as she goes down. Rodney pounces, lunging forward to grab her by the arms before hauling her to her feet.
He only makes it two steps toward the open door of his car before I’m on him. I swing hard, my fist connecting with the side of his head with enough force to jerk it in the opposite direction. The hit’s hard enough to stun him and he releases Lydia. I shove her back, putting my body in his path because I know it’s going to take more than one hit to end this.
Rodney’s narrowed eyes snap to my face as he wipes a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. “I thought you didn’t play anymore, Preacher.”
I grit my teeth at the name I haven’t used in years, shaking my head at him. “I’m not fucking playing.” I jerk my chin in the direction of his car. “Walk away.”
Rodney huffs out a laugh. “I’m here for my due, so you’re the one who needs to walk away.” His dead eyes move past my shoulder to where Lydia stands. “Me and her have a deal and she’s gotta pay up one way or another.”
“You could’ve had your payment. You decided you didn’t want it.” I consider offering to pay whatever she agreed to again, but I know it’s too late for that. He’s already decided cash is not what he’ll be collecting, and at this point there’s no way he’s backing down.
This only ends one of two ways. He gets what he wants or I do. Either way, one of us isn’t making it out of this alive.
“I don’t want money, Preacher.” His eyes narrow on where Lydia hides behind me as he licks his lips. “Not anymore.” He goes back to staring me down. “Now go back to your dirty little life pretending you’re better than all the rest of us.”
“Don’t make this about me. You know damn well it’s not.” My brothers and I have worked hard to move forward in our lives. To be better than we were. To get away from the bullshit existence fate shoved us into. And I will do anything to keep from being dragged back.
Almostanything.
Rodney inches toward me. “But it’s always been about you, hasn’t it? You’ve always thought you were better than everybody, including the men who think they’re your brothers.” His disgust with me is apparent as he continues to close the gap between us. “That’s why you got this little gig on the side behind their backs. You go around trying to save bitches from the lives they put themselves into so you can prove just how good of a man you are.” He snorts. “And you won’t even let your brothers help because you’re the only one good enough. You and the other two just like you.”
He’s got my reasons for doing what I do all wrong, but I know damn well there’s no way I’ll convince him differently. I don’t really care why he thinks I do it. But I do care what Lydia thinks, and right now he’s putting all sorts of ideas in her head.
“And this bitch got herself right where she deserves to be.” He motions at Lydia before turning to point at himself. “She came to me. She askedmefor help, not you. So why don’t you go back to your perfect fucking life with your perfect fucking business and leave me to mine.”
My life isn’t the only one he’s twisting right now, and I might not care what he thinks of me, but I won’t let him believe Lydia deserves the things he wants to do to her. “You’re not touching her.” I keep my eyes locked on his, making it clear I won’t back down. That this won’t end the way he wants it to. “So you can either take the money I’m offering you, or—”
“Or what?” He sneers. “What are you going to do, Preacher?” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Rodney’s hand juts out in the blink of an eye, fingers gripping Lydia’s arm tight enough to leave a bruise as he yanks her toward him, sealing his fate.
And mine.
9
LYDIA
I’D ALREADY FIGURED out Christian and Rodney knew each other, but it’s clear their connection is more than simply a passing familiarity. The bad blood between them is evident and making me more and more uneasy with each passing second.
The situation is going downhill fast, but I don’t realize just how fast until Rodney reaches around Christian and grabs me, his grip so tight it hurts. The move catches me completely by surprise because I foolishly believed Christian was completely capable of keeping me utterly safe, the way he always did when I was little.
But this isn’t about a missed dinner or a pissed off narcissist looking for someone to take his frustrations out on. The guy trying to drag me away is bad. Badder than bad. It’s written all over his face. Literally.
