He’d watched them pass around their own women to fellow club members without reservation. The Road Warriors had more than lived up to their reputation for sex and violence, and sometimes both at once. If she wasn’t pregnant, he’d be taking her with him. And three weeks without Debbie was three weeks too long. It had been perfect for him-a minimalist who’d never spent much time at home-but with Debbie here now and a baby on the way, he’d been meaning to find a bigger, nicer place. All his furniture were hand-me-downs from his parents, and his decorations were sparse-only the bare necessities. Keys jingling in his hand, Preacher bounded up the poorly lit staircase that led to his fourth-floor apartment-a dinky, dingy one-bedroom. “Unless he’s offerin’ money up front, that ain’t never gonna happen!”
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