Page 3 of Preacher Man

She hadn’t realized she was backing up until the print of the notice became unreadable. She forced her feet to stop, to breathe, to read it again.

He was called Kyle Williams and a biker with the Raging Rebels. Didn't they sound like a basket of kittens? All bikers should come with warning labels if it was up to her.

She heard about it, of course, the local cops on a wide manhunt for a dangerous guy responsible for the fire and mass murder over in Westbank a few months ago, but it hadn’t penetrated her life so hadn’t given it much thought after that.

What vomit inducing kind of coincidence was it being the same lost hiker she'd helped in the woods that night and paid for it by being raped? Fucking hell. The weight of her baggage was growing heavier by the second. You don’t realize how heavy it is until your back is broken.

Letting air into her lungs, she ripped the poster down and tore it into a million pieces, eradicated that animal for good, let the police catch him, she wasn’t afraid, if anything she was livid. He’d done something terrible for her sympathy in a time she’d wanted peace and quiet, she’d allowed a stranger into her domain because she was always taught to help those less fortunate and how did the fucker repay her, by forcing her to enjoy something no women asks for.

It was that fact that chewed up Ruby’s mind more than anything.

Maybe she was sick in the head.

In any case, she didn’t plan to do anything about this new information.

She had that thousand bucks job to find.

Halfway back to her car an almighty roar drew her attention, recognizing the sound before it came in sight, it was one lone Harley. Ruby felt a clutch catch in her belly when she saw the guy turn slightly. Unable to gauge it washimfor sure, but she was sure he swiveled his head and looked her way for a second before he took the curve.

Ridiculous. How would the legendary manwhore Preacher know to gawk at her? All bikers were bad news, she repeated, the Harley thrum drifting off in the distance.

She shrugged and slid into her car, it took three tries before the engine turned over with a lot of coaxing from her to just damn well work already.

Yet another hard-fast reason she needed money five minutes ago.

******

There was no better feeling than to ride up through those steel gates into the Renegade Souls MC compound. Known to his family and ex-army as Asher Priest, but to buddies and club brothers as Preacher, felt the air of satisfaction as he brought his bronze and chrome Harley Davidson FLSTF Fat Boy to a purring stop, his girl had gotten him home on the long journey from Nebraska in record time without one hitch. She deserved the good juice tonight.

But man, was he hurting inside his old bones like a motherfucker.

Friends came out of the bike shop, a thriving business now, slapping his palm in turn, welcoming back their road captain.

"The prodigal bastard returned at long last, what is it, Preach, you went through all the chicks in Lincoln and now there's a national shortage of orgasms?" Joked Snake, toothpick held in his teeth, eyes lit up with humor as he advanced forward and met Preacher's outstretched hand. Both men went in for that fast bro-back slap lasting no longer than three seconds because then it was a cuddle fest.

"Something like that," smirked Preacher. It was far from the truth but he had a reputation and why ruin Snake's fun. "How's it been around here? I heard the Russians had gone quiet. Let's hope they got buried in a snow drift back in the cold country."

On Snake's left came Grinder from inside the shop dragging an oil rag over his stained hands, a smile on his bearded face, the familiar black beanie hat on his head. Preacher met him halfway their hands connecting in a loud slap of deep friendship between the two men. “Bro.”

Preacher had missed his boy. Having been in Lincoln Nebraska sorting out some finance issues for the chapter there, technically it was their deal if they were in the red, but Rider being the kind of mother chapter president he was couldn't and wouldn't see any part of his club go down the toilet, he'd asked Preacher to take a ride through, this was only the third time he'd been back in Armado Springs Colorado in six months, once for his mom's birthday, the second time being when Rider called him back for a weekend before Preacher and Red Light came to blows and killed one another.

But enough of that earache in his tired mind the better.

He grinned at his friend, got the lay of the land for a few minutes before he unbuckled his saddlebag and prowled his six-foot-six frame inside the clubhouse.

The usual noises and smells greeted him, like a hug to the face of everything that meant home to him.

Doing the rounds of greetings with more club brothers and prospects, he was dog tired and therefore unaware when a pair of slim arms tackled him from behind, tits and face squashed into his spine.

"Preacher! You're back!"

"Hey, Marietta, darling." Untangling himself from the woman he smiled down at her beaming face. Dark hair, tight jeans, and wearing a shirt that said 'I don't mind your screaming kids. You don't mind my dick sucking.’ His lips twitched. "Nice shirt."

"You like it?" She was a sweet groupie. He couldn't attest for her dick sucking ... that he could remember. "Slider got me it for my birthday. Are you back for good?"

"For now, darling. I'm dead on my feet, catch you later, okay?" He winked and set off to let Rider know he was here before he face-planted directly into his bed. He should ride home and fall into his own bed, and if his legs and brain would get him there he probably would, but his flop here would do.

He caught up with the boss in the kitchen making out with his old lady sat on his lap. Rider and Zara were disgustingly in love he noted, watching them unawares with a grin in his eyes. Good shit had happened to the prez and his old lady the last year, and Preacher was glad for them. Clearing his throat alerted to his presence before a dick was exposed. As he knew, he watched pink fuse onto Zara's face. It didn't matter that the entire club had heard the pair going at it like cats in heat, if she was caught making out it embarrassed the hell out of the MC queen. He smiled at her and slapped hands with Rider. "Still knocking around with this one, Z-girl? I thought you would have grown some taste in my absence."

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