Page 14 of Preacher Man

Besides, he wasn’t related to Rita, her brother would never allow blackmail in his life. he was likely to shoot first and not ask questions later.

Trust was something fluid.

And so was time management, apparently. How in the crap was she always running late, no matter when she set her clock for? Okay, so she liked to snooze it six or seven times, but who didn't? and why invent a snooze button if it wasn’t to use?

Ruby lived a poor lifestyle, but always knew she was made to be a lady of leisure.

And only sometimes during this week was spent thinking about Preacher and that hot kiss. Fricking wicked kissing manwhore.

Her heart picking up speed whenever she saw the distinctive black and white emblem on the back of a leather jacket. But he’d never come back into the bar that week.

He’d obviously taken her brush off.Good. That was good.

She still thought about him far too much for her own liking. So, what, he could kiss well, so could a million other men who were far better suited to Ruby.

No bikers. No outlaws and definitely no one who was even remotely attracted to danger.

She was aiming for an easy life, not one spent with her anxiety in her throat.

Pushing that deadly monster out of her mind she rolled herself out of bed, cursing the air as blue as she felt, the chill in the air made her walk faster through her four-room apartment. The thing was no bigger than a shoebox and cost more than Buckingham palace probably, but as of now, it was still hers. Next month when it came to paying the rent, it might not be.

Ruby flipped on the coffee maker, its familiar gurgle of water working through its system something she looked forward to, so sad really, while she quickly showered, and slipped into jeans and a long sleeve Wonder Woman shirt, wearing minimal makeup, she clipped her hair back at her nape to keep it tidy and out of face. Frizzy curls were the bane of her life, but some mornings she just couldn’t face taming it with a flat iron.

“I’m finding a new job today,” she said with conviction. “Or a fucking sugar daddy with one foot in his grave and a dick that doesn’t work.”

Joking aside, where the hell was Hugh Hefner?

The universe took one giant piss on Ruby a bit later stepping out into the rain and finding her car wouldn’t start.

Not just dead. But may it rest in peace.

“Thanks a lot, God. I knew you hated me. I miss several hundred Sunday services and this is how you get even, thanks a bunch.” She wouldn’t cry. Tears were for the weak and those who had time to squeeze out a tear, and the moment Ruby declared herself weak she might as well lie down in the dirt and die alongside her car. She popped the hood, slid out, slamming the door with force. No goddamn idea what she was looking at as she poked and twiddled things in the engine, for all she knew she was making it a thousand times worse. “Why won’t you work, you piece of crummy crud? Don't I give you the good gas?” Rain soaked her already frizzing hair. Great. Seriously. Great.

Her apartment block located on a nearby main road leading into town. Not ideal for noise pollution and the odd road rage accident, but it was cheap; her favorite word.

“Is everything okay down there, Ruby?” She looked up to the apartment on the right. Mrs. Kenner leaning over the balcony in her bright pink housecoat. She was the oldest resident in the block, with a mane of shocking purple hair in a tight perm, and had eight cats at the last count. Ruby saw her future when she looked at sweet old Mrs. Kenner. She waved, rain pelting her in the face. “I’m fine, Mrs. K. Just my car decided she needed a nap.”

“Oh dear. Well, get yourself back inside, dearest, it’s coming down an awful lot.”

Mmhm. I know, I’m standing in it.

It was as if the universe kept tossing these shitty things in her path and Ruby, dumb as a rock, picked them up. Ohh, for me? thank you.

With three prospective jobs to inquire about before her shift began in a few hours, Ruby was up that proverbial shit creek. She didn’t know what to do.

And then.

A roar of a million engines turned the corner, she swerved out from under the hood of her car, not like she knew what the hell she was looking for, as far as she could see all was connected as it should be. She expected her second-hand mint green Toyota Sienna 2009 to last a while longer, at least until the end of the year when her finances would hopefully be staggering back to their feet, but sure she was about to hold a funeral service for the old girl. Kicking the tire, she ignored the procession of Renegade Souls motorcycles speeding by. Only the noise of their engines didn’t disappear into the distance, they grew closer, she turned again, to see the bike in front doing a U-turn in the middle of the fucking road. Crazy ass. Stupid bikers thinking they owned the town. Only they kind of did. At least, they had their illegal fingers in most businesses, not that she took much notice, but people in the bar talked when they were drunk. Half of the town adored the RS MC and the other half, well, they were never complimentary but scared with their harsh bitching.

An angry man always spoke the truth when he was drunk. Rider and his crew had a lot of secret enemies out there, if he wasn’t already aware.

The bike in front, a huge beast of a thing headed back this way, she frowned as it pulled into the carport, each bike following suit until all ten of them parked in front of her. Preacher, that giant appealing monster, pulled in closest, if she didn’t already know it was him, the tightness in her breasts would have been a clue.

“Hey, Ruby.” Called one of them and she squinted to see it was Jed. She flashed him a grin. For an old guy in his seventies he was still pretty cute. “Hi, Jed. You should get out of this rain, only idiots come out in this.” He laughed and agreed.

“Having car troubles, beautiful?” That sandpaper-rough voice grated over her nerve endings sending fire between her legs. She refused to let him see he affected her.

“It’s dead.”

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