Page 7 of Priest

“What’s wrong, beautiful? Are you cold? I can damn sure light a fire in that ass?—”

“Priest!” my father bit out in a warning tone.

When those coal-black eyes turned his way, the fire seeped out of Daddy, and he cleared his throat.

“Please, let’s discuss this.”

“I gave you three muthafuckin days to set my shit straight, and you failed. Not only did you fail, but you didn’t bother to show up at the meeting.”

“Something came up,” my father lied.

“I told you that I’d be here if you didn’t show up. I’m here to collect, nigga.”

I was livid. My father claimed not to know who was in our house, but it sounded like he was expecting them.

I knew of the Immortal Descendants. Other than earlier at the tattoo shop, I had seen them around town on several occasions. I had even seen Priest at our home a few times, but I was usually leaving when he was coming or vice versa. I had always been attracted to him. I knew it was the aura of danger that surrounded him that compelled me to pay attention to him, and that struck a chord within me.

Yet, seeing them in my home in their savage element shook the core of my foundation and forced me to face the inherent danger that surrounded me and always shrouded my father.

It was easy to look the other way when your father was involved in illegal operations and wasn’t doing them right in your face. As long as he played the game, I was willing to also. But when a dangerous element of society stood in your home, it wasn’t as easy to ignore the criminal ties and activities one’s parents participated in.

My father sat down in the chair on the other side of the bookshelf.

“Priest, my guys lost track of the shipment. We’re still searching for it as we speak. There’s no need to overreact. I assure you that I will get your shipment back to you within thirty days.”

I heard three guns cock. Priest chuckled, shook his head, and then lowered it. His index fingers made an inverted V in the middle of his forehead while his thumbs massaged the space right underneath his eyebrows.

“You’ve got me fucked up, Morgan,” he declared in a low voice.

The edge in his voice sent a whisper of a thrill through me.

“Priest, I can get you the five hundred grand right now.”

“I want my guns, not your fuckin’ money, but we can bargain,” he announced before he sat upright in the chair and kicked his feet up on the desk.

“I’m listening,” Daddy replied.

“I see something that’s worth a hell of a lot more. I’ll collect.”

I looked between him and Daddy and noticed they both stared at me. When understanding dawned, it hit me like a brick in my chest.

“No! You can’t do that. I’m not a piece of property!” I shouted.

“Sweetheart, it’s just for thirty days.”

“Daddy, you can’t do this! Besides, I’m already?—”

“September, this is not up for discussion. Two men are speaking right now, and you will quiet down while we handle business. Besides, Daniel will understand.”

I turned to look at Priest, who wore a sinister look in his eyes. It scared the hell out of me, and I wasn’t sure who was the monster, him or my father. It was one thing to flirt with danger from a distance, but it was another thing to actually be in a criminal’s crosshairs.

As I made a move to step from behind the desk, Priest stood so swiftly and grabbed my wrist to pull me closer. The hard edges of his body pressed into mine. My eyes dipped closed briefly, and I inhaled the scent of his leather cut combined with the earthy smell of weed and a fresh, minty fragrance.

“I’m gonna have so much fun breaking you, princess.”

“Thirty days, Priest. I swear I’ll have your guns back by then,” my father promised from behind me.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I opened my mouth to say “Daddy,” but nothing came out.

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