The Heathen: Preacher Brothers, 2 Read online

  I cleared my throat and smoothed my hands over my thighs. “You don’t remember?”

  He didn’t answer right away but did shake his head slowly. “It’s fuzzy.” He looked around the living room before settling his gaze on me.

  “I found your SUV in a ditch. You hit your head on the steering wheel.” I lifted my hand and pointed to his forehead. “Had a nasty cut.”

  “You brought me back to your place?” His voice was a little tight, hard. Angry?

  “I couldn’t leave you there. I work at the community hospital. My name is Kimber, and I’m a nurse. I wouldn’t have left you there.” He still said nothing, but I could see on his face he was thinking hard. “I really think you should go to the hospit—”

  “I’m fine,” he cut me off harshly, as if that was the end of that subject. I hadn’t even had time to tell him it wasn’t like I could take him there with how shitty the weather was.

  “I have some painkillers from a gallbladder surgery I had last year, if you’d like to take some? It’ll take the edge off.”

  He shook his head. “I can handle a little pain.”

  A little pain? I bet he was in a lot more than just a little bit, but he seemed pretty masculine, so maybe it was “weak” to act like he hurt. Or maybe he’d had the same kind of shit childhood I did, where acting like you were weak got you backhanded.

  I cleared my throat and looked down at my hands in my lap. It was when I felt his gaze on me that I glanced up. The expression on his face was stone-cold, but in his eyes, I saw something else, something... softer? Knowing?

  If I had seen anything in his gaze, it was gone faster than it had risen.

  “Well, it’s not like I can call for help anyway,” I murmured, and he looked at me with dead eyes. “Okay, well, what about family?”

  He shook his head and rested it back on the couch, closing his eyes. His body would take a while to heal. I knew he was still feeling that pain and exhaustion.

  “When I can make a call, is there a wife, maybe a girlfriend you want me to contact?” I didn’t like the way my stomach became sour after I said those words, at the thought of him having someone like that in his life. I didn’t know this man from Adam, but I’d cared for him, tended to his wounds. I’d comforted him during his fever, when he mumbled and tossed around. I felt close to him, connected in a way I probably shouldn’t have.

  “There’s no one you’ll need to call, especially not a woman. I don’t make females a priority in my life, and they sure as fuck haven’t been a presence.”

  I just stared at him, not sure what he was saying. His eyes hardened, and I wondered if he regretted saying as much as he had.

  “Meaning there isn’t anyone for you to call.” His words were gruff, and I wondered what he exactly meant by that.

  “As in you don’t find the opposite sex attractive?” The words spilled out before I could stop them, and I instantly felt my face heat in embarrassment.

  I wasn’t judging, not in the least. I could only assume he was gay if women had never been a presence in his life. Or maybe he was celibate? Was he implying he’d never actually been with one? I couldn’t even imagine a man at his age being a virgin, but that had been the first thing I thought of after he said those words.

  And that seemed unbelievable for how... attractive he was.

  He lifted his head and stared into my eyes, and I shivered for a second. “And you didn’t call the authorities?”

  I shook my head instantly at the tone of his voice. “I couldn’t. The w-weather,” I stuttered. His voice was threatening, and I wondered—worried—what he would have done if I’d told him I had. “The cell towers have been out.” He sat up straighter and I leaned back in my chair a little more. “Wi-Fi is out too,” I said softly. Why had I admitted any of that? So now he knew I was out here with him alone and unable to contact anyone.

  He shifted on the couch and I held my breath.

  “I thought the storm would let up by now, but it’s only gotten worse.” God, shut up.

  He glanced toward the living room window, and I watched as his entire body tightened right in front of me. Cullen slowly turned his head back toward me but only glanced at me for a second before his gaze landed on his duffel.

  Everything in me froze as I stared at the duffel as well. I swore I saw his shock, anger, and something else filter across his face before he turned his hard stare back at me.

  “You open that bag?” His voice was dangerously calm as he asked that question.

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. His expression terrified me. I curled my hands around the armrests of the chair I sat in and straightened my spine, my muscles becoming uncomfortably tight.

  God. Who have I brought into my house?

  Time stood still as we stared at each other, as the heat in the room was sucked out and the air became cold, dead.

  I held my breath as I watched him get up, his hand reaching out to grip the couch as he steadied himself. I saw the way he closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as if his pain was almost too much. And then he opened them and looked at me, his gaze locking on mine as that discomfort on his face morphed into a stern look of… resolve.

  This frightening, apathetic look on his face chilled me to my very bones. He straightened and started walking toward the table where the bag sat.

  I stood, but I didn’t know where I was going to go, couldn’t even move in that moment. I was nervous and frightened and I didn’t know why. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, and although there were red flags blaring about who this man was, what he was capable of, my gut instincts were always right about people. They had to be, working in the ER and dealing with criminals, violent and psychotic people.

  But with Cullen, I didn’t feel that, not toward me anyway. And I didn’t know if that made me blind or ignorant toward reality.

  Because the reality was this man was dangerous, and right now that danger, was pointed right at me.

  Chapter Six

  Cullen

  I knew before I even looked in that duffel bag and pulled out the gun and envelope of money that she’d already seen them both. I knew she’d already looked at my ID, knew who I was, where I lived.

  I knew all of this without her saying so, because of the expression on her face when I’d asked her, her fear coming from her like a gust of hot air slamming into my body.

  I reached in the duffel and wrapped my hand around the gun, the metal cold in my palm. I slowly turned my head and looked at her, the way her chest rose and fell violently telling me she was terrified.

  And for a split second, I felt this stirring inside me. Regret? Guilt? I didn’t know what it was, but knowing she was afraid, that I was the cause of that fear, made me feel... something.

  I growled low in my throat at my own annoyance.

  She might not know much, but she knew too much.

  “You should’ve left me there,” I said in a low, deep, and dark voice, not hiding the threat in my tone.

  I lifted the gun out of my bag and held it at my side. I saw the way her eyes lowered to the weapon in my palm, how they widened in fear... saw the way her throat moved up and down as she swallowed.

  Her fear was intoxicating... turned me on.

  My head swam, the cut under the bandage aching, burning. I kept my body rigid, didn’t let it outwardly show I was struggling to even stand up right now.

  “What did you see, Kimber?” It was the first time I’d said her name out loud, and I fucking hated how good it made me feel, how perfect it sounded slipping off my tongue.

  She shook her head and retreated as I moved toward her. I wasn’t going to kill her, not unless she knew too much about me, not if there was a very real risk she might put too much together. I was trying to stay under the fucking radar. We’d just robbed a fucking jewelry store. The last thing I needed was the cops getting involved in an auto accident and digging up shit about me, about my past, realizing how close I was to the robbery site.

  Hell, finding my
serial number scraped off the illegal fucking gun, and the stack of cash I had.

  Yeah, no fucking cops.

  And as I stared at her, I could see she was a good person, and good people inherently wanted to do the right thing and inform the authorities of shit.

  That couldn’t happen.

  I was a foot from her now, and she had nowhere else to retreat, her back pressed to the wall, her chest rising and falling viciously.

  “I don’t know anything,” she whispered.

  She was lying. I practically tasted it in her words.

  “I’m really fucking good at reading people, Kimber.” I took another step closer. Goddamn, I loved saying her name. “Don’t lie to me.” I looked right in her wide amber-colored eyes and kept my expression stone-cold. She needed to see—feel—the type of man I really was. “What did you find in that duffel?”

  She didn’t answer for long seconds, and I could see on her face she was trying to come up with another lie, or maybe trying to get out of this situation intact. “I was just trying to help. That’s all I was trying to do.” She swallowed again, and I saw tears swimming in her eyes.

  Fuck, my gut tightened at the sight.

  “I found your wallet.” She lowered her eyes to the ground. “I found your weapon.” She glanced back up at my face. “And I saw a lot of money.”

  God, she smelled so fucking good.

  I braced one hand on the wall beside her head and closed my eyes involuntarily. I inhaled deeply. My head spun, a mixture from her intoxicating scent and the pain that throbbed at my temple. I felt dizzy, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even breathe.

  On instinct, I placed my other hand on her hip, the one holding the gun, that weapon pressing against her body. I heard her inhale sharply, could practically smell the aroma of her fear and her… desire. A low growl left me.

  Arousal and the reality of what I had to do waged war inside me. And despite the fact that I was aware she knew too much, had seen too much, all I wanted to do was press my body to hers. I wanted to see what it felt like to have a woman close to me for the first time in my life. I wanted to let this pleasure ride up and control me for the first time in my existence.

  I wanted to let a female consume me.

  I’d never let myself get to this point, never even wanted to experience it, but I fucking desired it so damn badly right now. And only with her.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I was losing my mind. Had I hit my head so hard that the reality of the situation was blurring with the selfishness of my desires?

  I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my head so I could look at her, not realizing I’d had my mouth so fucking close to her pulse point, as if I planned on sucking at her flesh. My cock stirred to life, starting to harden, my balls drawing up right as lust slammed into them.

  “You know too much,” I said and felt that dizziness intensify. I squeezed my eyes shut. Fuck, was I going to pass out? I shook my head to try to clear it. When I opened my eyes, the world went sideways, and I found myself pressing my chest to hers. Fuck, she was soft.

  Damn, she feels good.

  I heard her inhale sharply, her big tits pressing even harder to my chest. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said as I fought the need to close my eyes and succumb to the darkness. “But you know too much.” That last sentence was said harshly, my voice going impossibly deeper.

  “You’re going down,” I heard her say before the gun slipped from my grasp and the ground met me for a kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  Kimber

  I knew he was going to go down before his big body hit the floor. And for the longest time, I just stood there, my body pressed to the wall, my heart racing, fear having this stranglehold on me.

  I stared at his face, his five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and jaw, the tattoos covering his neck, his biceps. He was so big and strong despite being so weak in this moment.

  And I should have left right then and there, but I just stood still, breathing fast and hectic.

  I was on the verge of crying for how terrified I was, but mixed in with that was this feeling of... life. It was an insane combination of not knowing if I was going to survive the next second and feeling like I’d never really been living until this one moment.

  I exhaled slowly as I continued to look at his body. I’d heard his head hit the ground pretty hard, saw fresh blood start to saturate the bandage on his temple. I looked at the front door, the wind and snow, sleet and angry weather that sounded like bullets hitting the wood and glass telling me the storm was just as nasty as it had ever been. Maybe even more so now.

  I glanced at where the gun was, knocked out of his hands when he fell. I quickly picked it up and found myself darting away from him, a few feet from where he lay, the heavy metal in my palm a reminder that it had just been pressed to my side. Had he been about to kill me? Hurt me? The obvious answer was yes, but in my heart, I knew that wasn’t the truth.

  My heart was racing like a freight train. I wasn’t thinking as I turned and ran to the door, grabbed my keys off the little hook on the wall, and threw my shoes on. I had the door flung open a second later, but I just stood there, looking at the vicious weather outside, knowing there was no way I’d be able to maneuver my vehicle in it. And I was a mile from the nearest neighbor, something I’d loved when I bought this little house, but now regretting the isolation.

  But the truth was that’s not why I was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to leave. I looked over my shoulder at where Cullen lay, the white bandage now soaked clean through. Snow and ice slapped against my body, cutting into my neck like little shards of glass.

  I had to use strength to close the door from the torrential wind, and once it was shut, I leaned my back against it. I continued to stare at Cullen, thinking again how he could have hurt me a hundred different ways in just this short amount of time.

  But he hadn’t.

  I’d seen in his eyes he was conflicted, even if he tried to hide it.

  “Who are you?” I whispered and took my shoes off before putting my keys back on the hook, and I walked over to Cullen. I still had the gun in my hand, my fingers wrapped tightly around it, the metal now warm from my touch. I looked around the living room then glanced into the kitchen. Without thinking anymore, I walked over to one of the drawers and pulled it open, pushing junk around until I found some twine. It would have to do.

  I was back by him a second later, the gun sitting on the floor beside me, the heavy thump of it hitting the ground filling my head. I felt like crying again, because as I stared at this man, who I didn’t even know, I was aware it didn’t matter how strong someone was. They were hurting on the inside, had pain and darkness that ate at them like a spreading cancer.

  People were the way they were for a reason, and more times than not, that reason was because they had this vulnerability in them that they refused to show.

  And I knew that was Cullen.

  I had read him as easily as if he’d been an open book and a magnifying glass had been pointed right at the page that described his soul.

  I didn’t know why I felt this connection with him, this pull to heal him, to be strong not only for myself but for him as well, but it was indescribable how much I felt that.

  I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid, that it didn’t matter how much he pushed, tried to frighten me. I was here to help.

  Or maybe I was wrong and this man was as evil as they came.

  I found myself reaching out and smoothing my finger gently along one of his dark eyebrows. I made a downward path along his jaw, the stuff under the digit smooth. I stopped at his neck, traced the tattoos that lined his skin, and wondered if he’d gotten so many because he was hiding something from the world, from himself.

  We were very much the same, him and me, these two broken souls who had taken very different paths in our lives.

  I used my history with abuse and neglect to help people, to heal and be kind and caring. It
was the only way I felt worthy, the only way I could allow myself to keep that darkness out of my life. It might still be there, hiding, waiting, and festering to emerge, but I’d rather die than let my fucked-up childhood define who I was as a person.

  “I don’t know who you truly are or what I’m going to do with you, but I’m not giving up,” I whispered and stood, grabbing the gun again and tucking it at the back of the waistband of my jeans at the small of my back like I was in a movie.

  I might not be giving up on him, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to give him more of a lead than he needed.

  A vicious dog could be made to see his errors, but not at first. First, he had to know not to bite the hand that fed him.

  Chapter Eight

  Cullen

  “You worthless piece of shit.” He reared his arm back and brought his fist to the side of my head over and over again, my body half his size, easily battered and broken against his drunken rage. “This is for not following my fucking directions.”

  I fell to the ground from the next hit, feeling warm liquid trail down my cheek. I glanced up and saw Dom’s little head peeking around the corner of the wall. I shook my head once, a silent roar for him to go, to hide with the twins until our father was finished and passed out in his recliner, a bottle of whiskey in his lap, a cigarette between his lips.

  Dom’s dark head was gone, my silent demand not going on deaf ears.

  “When will you ever fucking learn, boy?” He slapped me this time, his open palm coming in contact right against my cheek, stinging and burning.

  But over the years of taking his abuse, his violence, absorbing it all so my brothers didn’t have to experience it had hardened me. And every day, I felt that stone inside me growing from the inside out. I knew soon I’d be unbreakable, nothing able to touch me, because I wouldn’t allow it to.