Fast Lane - Kristen Ashley Page 0,66

I was noticing she had a scary-good ability in doing.

“So, you’re not only down with tellin’ a man how he goes about his day, you’re also good with tellin’ him who he can fuck?” Preacher asked Shawn.

I stared at him because not two days ago it was the fourth, maybe fifth time he had eyes on Leeanne and he’d said, “That woman’s not right.”

And now he was okay with her?

“You cannot stand there and tell me you don’t see she’s bad news,” Shawn returned.

“I can stand here and tell you it’s none of my damned business,” Preacher shot back. “Or yours.”

“Preach—” Tommy started.

“No, Tom,” Preacher bit. “This is not how we do shit in this band. You got a problem, you bring it to breakfast or we call a sit down. We do not sneak.”

“We came here because when we go to the band, we want you behind this,” Tommy replied, then he looked at me. “And you.”

Oh shit.

I shook my head, but before I could get words out, Preacher spoke.

“Do not look at Lyla. She’s got nothin’ to do with the band.”

At his ugly, dismissive tone, I felt my head jerk as I blinked.

He was right.

I didn’t.

I was careful with that.

Even between me and Preacher, when the guys weren’t around, I was careful with it.

The band was his. His and the boys’.

There were many reasons I did this, not least of which was that I didn’t want to be forced into the position of the go-between. The middleman. Cast in the role of the speaker for one side or the other. The peacemaker. The deciding vote.

None of that.

Because I was Preacher’s and it wouldn’t be fair because I loved all the guys, but my mind would always be on what Preacher would want.

But more, as noted, the band was Preacher’s.

I’d watched my grandparents, and Gram had her thing, Gramps had his. They both golfed and they both liked to travel. They both worked, different places, different work friends and colleagues. To relax, he liked to stretch out in front of the TV or read. She liked to go shopping or lunch with one of her cronies or lay out in the sun.

They didn’t get along every second.

But they had their life together and their times where they did their own thing.

And they had the strongest marriage (by far) I’d ever seen.

I wanted to build that with Preacher.

This was one of the reasons why I was struggling to find my thing.

I could not also be all about the band no matter how many factors out there were trying to drag me in.

Last, and oh so not least, there was one little way I took care of the guys.

I didn’t let them get jacked over by women.

So actually, he was wrong.

I did have something to do with the band.

It wasn’t a big thing.

But it was a thing.

So him saying that like he just said that.

It hurt.

“You best be careful, brother,” DuShawn said low, jerking his head my way.

“Great, now you’re gonna tell me how to handle my woman?” Preacher asked.

Handle me?

“I think perhaps I should finish packing,” I put in.

“Yeah,” Preacher said to me. “You do that.”

I sent him a look that I figured would peel paint off walls and began to turn to the doors to close them and leave them to it when Tommy called out.

“Lyla.”

I looked right into his eyes and said quietly, “No, Tommy. I’m sorry, but you know that cannot come from me.”

He looked pissed and maybe he had a right to be pissed.

But so be it.

I was pissed too.

I didn’t look to DuShawn.

He had the power to drag me in. He was older than all the guys, save Tommy, but he had a wisdom even Tom didn’t have, and a manner about him, with the issues they were discussing, he could manage to do what none of the others had done.

And especially with the way Preacher was acting, I couldn’t have that.

The band was my family.

My home.

But it was coming clear I had my own problems even closer.

Right in the heart.

And I needed all my focus for those.

I closed the doors behind me, and I resolutely did not listen to their voices coming through.

But they talked for so long, not only did I pack up myself, I packed up Preacher who usually did his own packing because, “Baby, when you pack my shit, it’s all orderly and tidy and when I open my bag when we get to our room, I feel like goin’ onstage