2017 Piper Davenport
Copyright © 2017 Trixie Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Saving the Preacher’s Daughter is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Model
Brett Young
Cover Art
Jackson Jackson
CONTENTS
Copyright
Praise
Acknowledgements
Back Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
The Longing
Road to Passion
Road to Peace
About Piper
All it took was one page and I was immediately hooked on Piper Davenport’s writing. Her books contain 100% Alpha and the perfect amount of angst to keep me reading until the wee hours of the morning. I absolutely love each and every one of her fabulous stories. ~ Anna Brooks – Contemporary Romance Author
Get ready to fall head over heels! I fell in love with every single page and spent the last few wishing the book would never end! ~ Harper Sloan, NY Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Piper Davenport just reached deep into my heart and gave me every warm and fuzzy possible. ~ Geri Glenn, Author of the Kings of Korruption MC Series
This is one series I will most definitely be reading!! Great job Ms. Davenport!! I am in love!! ~ Tabitha, Amazeballs Book Addicts
Kelly:
Thanks again. Your insight is always so spot on!
Felicia Lynn:
Thanks for being such an amazing cheerleader!
Preacher’s daughter Willow Miller's idyllic life is shattered in a matter of seconds. In the midst of a devastating heartbreak, she’s forced to evaluate everything she thought she believed in and make a choice...the man she thinks she knows or the man who sets her heart aflame.
Finn 'Dash' Lloyd doesn’t “do” good girls. He’s a newly patched member of the Dogs of Fire Motorcycle Club, and he’s enjoying all the perks that come with it. But when he finds himself thrust into the unwanted role of guardian, he realizes the good girl that captures his heart might just save his soul.
But Dash needs to figure out how to protect Willow from a threat buried deep in her past before it's too late.
For Nicole
You are... well, just the best. I love you! Thanks for all your support!
Willow
I pushed open the doors to my father’s offices and smiled at the church’s receptionist.
“Hi, Eleanor.”
My father was the reverend of the First Baptist Church in Viewpoint, South Carolina, a church of about two hundred, older, conservative members. Even though it was small, there was a separate building that housed the pastoral offices behind the main church. My dad was the nicest man I knew. He was probably the nicest man anyone in town knew. Since my mother died ten years ago, it had been the two of us against the world. After her passing, I had to help keep Dad focused on his work, and he tried his best to fill the role of a mother to a teenage girl. It wasn’t easy for either of us, but we grew incredibly close as we grieved and healed together.
“Oh, hi sweetie. How are you doing?” Eleanor pushed her Bible aside and leaned across the counter.
Eleanor Torres had worked at the church since before my father had taken over and she was very, very sweet. A little dim and out of touch, but always kind. Her husband Sam was a deacon and their daughter Taylor helped out with the little kids on occasion.
“I’m great, thank you,” I said. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s doing much better. Thank you for asking.”
“Of course.” I held up a small stack of paper. “Daddy asked me to bring in the sermon he printed last night. Is he free?”
“Sure, sure, go on back.”
I nodded and headed toward my dad’s office.
As I approached, I heard two angry voices, low enough I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but loud enough to know they were arguing.
I frowned. My father never argued with anyone. The only time he raised his voice was when he was preaching... and that was really only when it was on the topic of sin or the book of Revelation.
Now, however, he was the aggressor.
“I told you, Richard, I was done with this conversation and if you continue to—”
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, interrupting the altercation. I faced Richard Waters and forced a smile. “Mr. Waters.”
Richard was one of our deacons, but (and I’m ashamed to admit this), I didn’t like him. In fact, he scared me. I didn’t get a good feeling from the man, and even though he had a lovely wife and a perfectly polite son, he flat out gave me the creeps.
“Mornin’ Willow,” Richard said in his thick Kentucky accent, and his eyes raked my body making me feel like I should cover up. “You look... beautiful.”
I swallowed and took a deep breath in an effort not to shudder. “Thank you.”
“Well, I best be goin’,” he said, and I stepped back so he could pass.
My dad leaned down and kissed my cheek, then closed the door. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Daddy.” I handed him the paperwork he’d asked me to grab from the house. “Why were you fighting with Mr. Waters?”
“It’s nothing. Just a disagreement on a Bible verse.”
“That sounded much more heated than a disagreement on a Bible verse,” I countered.
“It’s my job to be patient and guide our flock in the right direction. I promise you, it wasn’t a heated argument.” He smiled and squeezed my arms. “Now. Are you and Brad going out tonight?”
“Yep.” I grinned and glanced at my engagement ring. Almost two carats of perfection in a platinum band. Brad Aljets was my newly announced fiancé and I was in love with the perfect man. He and I had grown up in the church together and his faith in God was as strong as my father’s. He came from a lovely family (his father was the deputy mayor), and we’d been dating (chastely) for a year. He’d proposed the Sunday before last in front of the entire congregation, and I couldn’t have been happier. I was twenty-two years old, entering my senior year of college to become a teacher, and couldn’t wait to start my life with Brad. I was working on being the perfect political wife, and I thought I was doing a pretty good job so far.
“What time is he picking you up?” My dad asked.
“Seven.”
“Well, why don’t I take you to lunch and make su
re you’re home in time to be spoiled?”
“I would love to go to lunch with you, Daddy, but I’m meeting Jasmine and Parker to start the wedding planning.”
Jazz and Parker were my two closest friends. Their families attended our church, and we’d been inseparable since third grade.
“Well, that’s far more important.”
I giggled. “Nothing’s more important than you. I can reschedule—”
“Don’t you dare. It’s not every day my little girl plans a wedding.”
I kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
“I better get going.”
He nodded. “Make sure you drive west...”
“So I avoid the biker bar,” I repeated for the umpteenth time. The church was in a shady part of town... sort of. The biker bar was literally on the other side of the train tracks, which separated the “bad” part of town from our side of town. And the distance between the church and the bar was about four-hundred yards, but it was enough (to my father) to separate good from bad. West vs. east. Sometimes I wondered if Dad was worried there might be a “rumble.” Maybe the Sharks and the Jets would break out in a knife fight... or even worse, in song and dance.
I bit back a giggle and sighed. “I know, Daddy. Don’t worry. I’m careful.”
“That’s my girl.” He sat behind his desk. “Text me when you get wherever you’re going.”
“I will. See you tonight.”
He nodded and I decided to leave via the door from his office, rather than heading back through the lobby. It was faster and it meant I could avoid Richard Waters who usually hung around to speak with Eleanor whenever he visited.
As I walked to my car in the front, a deafening roar had me frozen in place.
A sea of black and chrome motorcycles flew by me, passing right in front of the church, and I couldn’t help myself from laying my hand over my racing heart. My word, they were loud... and intimidating... and kind of exciting. I shoved that thought deep down in my soul. I was not allowed to think they were exciting. They were dangerous and the bikers certainly were not good people (as Brad had told me on more than one occasion).
The problem with me, however, was that I found myself enamored by motorcycles and the men who rode them. I’d always been drawn to them. I couldn’t tell you why, but one of my earliest memories as a child was pulling away from my mother in a mall parking lot and running toward a motorcycle parked near our car. We’d been visiting her sister in San Diego, and we were getting a few supplies for our Disneyland visit the following day.
There was an older man with long hair and an even longer beard who saw me coming (probably because my mother let out a scream of fear), and knelt down to my level as I laid my hand on the bike.
“Pretty.”
He grinned. “You like my hog, huh?”
I nodded.
“This here’s a Harley Davidson Fatboy.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not nice to say ‘fat.’”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”
I stared at the man and knew I’d never forget his eyes. Ever. They were blue and they were kind... like Daddy’s.
“Willow!” my mother admonished. “Do not run away from me again.”
“Sorry, Mama. I like the hog.”
“The what?” she asked, and the man stood back up.
“My bike. I call it a hog.”
“Oh,” Mama said, and tugged me closer to her legs. “Well, thank you for letting her look at your motorcycle.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Mama pulled me (reluctantly) to our car and we drove away, never to see the man or the motorcycle again.
Brought back to the present by one of the bikers looking my way, I licked my lips and waited for the last bike to drive out of view. I noticed the patches on the backs of their jackets read: Dogs of Fire: Savannah, and it sounded kind of tame for a motorcycle gang. I suppose there was the fire bit, but no mention of Satan or pictures of nude women on their vests. I shook off my thoughts and climbed into my car, driving the opposite way of the men.
* * *
Dash
As I passed the Baptist Church, I couldn’t help but notice the leggy blonde standing by an older model Toyota Tercel. Fuck me, she was gorgeous.
She wore a thin, yellow sundress that stopped at her knees, and some sweater thing that covered her arms. She’d finished off the innocent as fuck lookin’ outfit with cowboy boots and I suddenly felt pressure against my zipper. I imagined myself fucking her right out of the slip of fabric she called a dress, but I’d insist she keep those boots on.
Willow
Brad arrived at seven on the dot. I was still wearing my yellow sundress, mostly because it was new and I loved it, but I’d changed out of my boots and wore a pair of strappy heels.
“Hi,” I said, and Brad kissed me quickly before walking inside.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He looked me up and down. “The dress is a little short, don’t you think?”
I frowned. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“But I love this dress.”
“Okay,” he said with a quiet sigh. “If you like it.” Then added, “And you think that’s the best decision.”
“I do like it, but if you want me to change, I will.”
“Never mind, we don’t have time,” he said. “I’ll just say hi to your father and we can go.”
Well, now I felt like crap, but I trusted Brad and knew he didn’t say it to hurt my feelings. He loved me. Brushing off my melancholy, I followed him into the den where Dad was on his computer and waited for them to say their hellos.
My dad chuckled. “Well, hi there, soon to be son-in-law.”
“Alfred.” Brad shook his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Where are you heading tonight?”
“Chez Orange.”
“Oh-ho, fancy.”
Brad wrapped an arm around my waist and smiled. “Our girl deserves it.”
I blushed, my heart warming. “Thanks, honey.”
He gave me a gentle squeeze and I let out a quiet, “Sorry, darling.” Brad hated “honey.” He’d asked me to call him love or darling, but honey was off the table. I kept forgetting, but was glad he was patient with me.
“Well, we better get going,” Brad said. “Our reservation is in twenty minutes.”
My dad kissed me on the cheek. “Have a great time.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said, and followed Brad out of the house.
He held the door for me and I slid into the car, careful of my “short” dress. He walked to his side and climbed in, securing his seatbelt.
“How was your day?” I asked as we drove.
“Good. How was yours?”
I sighed. “Fun. Jazz, Parker, and I went looking at dresses.”
He smiled. “Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.” I waved my finger in the air. “But I will.”
He chuckled. “Are you excited?”
I smiled. “Very excited. Are you?”
“Yes. I love you, Willow.”
“I love you, too.”
We arrived at the popular and expensive French restaurant in downtown Savannah, and I waited for Brad to collect me. As we walked inside, he took my arm in his (he felt holding hands was too ‘high school’ and public displays of affection were gauche), and then guided me in front of him so he could hold the door.
Brad spoke with the Maître D’ and then he guided me in front of him again to follow the man to our table.
After Brad ordered for me, I tried to broach the subject of our living situation once we were married. I really wanted to stay close to my father, however, he had his eye set on a mansion by the water. The thought made me cringe, to be honest. I understood my place as the wife of a politician (he was currently vying for a seat in the senate), and we’d need to entertain some very important people, but I liked people.
People of all kin
ds, not just the rich or the pretty.
The thought of being alone in a gigantic house while the rest of my friends were an hour away and working, was tough to swallow. I’d be isolated and I knew myself well enough to know that, as an extrovert, it would kill me.
Before I could say anything, however, a man and a woman walked toward us and my breath left my body. I knew him. At least, I thought I knew him... How did I know him?
He had long hair and a long beard, tattoos and a rough look about him. Despite his clean, dark jeans and button-up shirt, I had a feeling this wasn’t his usual attire. They were seated at the table next to us, in a u-shaped booth, and I watched as he slid to the middle, wrapping an arm around the woman to pull her close and kiss her temple.
The woman was a beautiful and graceful blonde. She wore a dress similar to mine, only a little shorter and a lot more low-cut. She was stunning and wholly enamored with her date. I took a slow, deep breath. I wanted that.
“They will let anyone in nowadays,” Brad hissed under his breath.
“Brad,” I whispered.
He frowned. “What?”
“Please don’t be rude.”
He sighed and leaned forward. “If you can’t afford to eat here every day, and dress appropriately for the event, then you shouldn’t bother.”
“How do you know he can’t afford to eat here every day?” I challenged.
“Look at him. He looks like one of those bikers.”
Well, he had me on that. He did look like one of ‘those bikers.’ He was sexy. I bit my lip. I shouldn’t notice those kinds of things.
“Bikers can’t afford to eat at expensive restaurants?” I asked.
Brad shot me a look without comment.
“And does he need to sit so close?” Brad continued. “I didn’t come here to watch an erotic film.”
I blushed. I’d never seen an erotic film, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t tracking with him. “They’re obviously in love. I think it’s sweet.”
“Lust is more like it,” he ground out. “It’s disgusting.”
“Would you like to leave?” I asked.
“No,” he said with a sigh. “I won’t let the likes of him ruin my evening.”
Saving the Preacher's Daughter (Dogs of Fire: Savannah Chapter #1) Page 1
