Page 44 of Never Wed an Outlaw

Deep down, I'd claimed her, and I wasn't letting go. Nothing would stop me from keeping her mine.

Ma cameby a few days later to meet me before the wedding. I sat at my kitchen counter, staring at my phone, wishing like hell Hannah would've changed her mind.

Having her there to watch Skin and Joker get hitched wasn't happening, and I'd have to live with it.

She sent the last text that morning. My eyes scanned over it, biting the end of my pipe hard while I drew in a long pull of fresh tobacco.

Dusty – I'm sorry. I need to get this database right, or I'm risking the entire infrastructure coming down. Give your boys my very best. We'll talk soon.

“Ah, I wondered what had you so uptight this morning,” Ma said, standing over my shoulder. “When are you going to introduce us?”

I spun around, taking a good, long look at the wry smile on her face.Never,I wanted to say. Besides being a bald ass lie, it would've made me feel guilty as sin because maybesome part of me wanted to take Hannah to meet her.

“Whenever,” I said, drawing my pipe out of my mouth, watching the smoke curl out the end. “Won't be today, Ma. She's a busy lady.”

“Really? Busier than you?” She stared at me with way too much amusement on her face, one hand resting on her hip. “Daniel Stonewall Grayson – are you telling me you've met your match?”

“Fuck no,” I said, standing up to get more coffee. Only decent option I had to take the edge off. “I'm saying we're taking it slow, Ma, but don't get any crazy ideas in your head. It ain't that serious.”

Bullshit.The fact that I'd just watched my phone like a hawk since sunrise said things were more serious than they'd ever been with any woman.

“Oh, Danny, just when I thought today couldn't get any sweeter.” Wearing that stupid smile, she shook her head, as if she couldn't believe what was rolling around inside it. “Looks like I'm going to see you married after all, one of these days. Take notes today. It'll be like a trial run for your own wedding. I'll bring the extra tissues.”

“Ma!” I stamped my boot, sloshing coffee onto the floor. No woman survived life in this club without sass, but she brought it by the ton. “You're getting carried away.”

I'd never seen her so happy since...shit, probably not since my old man died. Red faced, laughing, covering her old grey eyes, I left her to the moment while I mopped the floor with a paper towel.

“If you're done cackling, we've got to get our butts ingear and go. Preacher man's pretty damned punctual about when he starts these things.”

“Sure, Dusty.” She was still dabbing at her eyes when I came up, tossed the paper towel away, and quickly chugged the rest of my coffee. “Bet he's getting tired of doing so many weddings so close together. What's his story anyway?”

I thought about the turtle faced hell raiser we all called preacher man, who'd given the club its moral support for several years now. “Old friend of the club's. You know how it goes. He thinks we're guardian angels or something. Like we need a man of God keeping us on track, fulfilling our destiny, or some shit.”

Ma nodded, thinking it over.

Truth was, preacher man prattled on about that crap plenty of times, but he had a better reason to help the club when duty called.

Early bailed his ass out back in the day, not long before he bit the bullet. The quiet, small town preacher went through a bad spell. Got himself mixed up in dope and crystal, and unknowingly opened the door for the bastards selling it to use his church basement for storage and production.

Didn't last long. My old man killed every last one of those fuckers muscling in on his turf, burned the filth below his Sunday flock, and chained up preacher man 'til he stopped sweating like a pig and crying for his mama. I stood guard that night, when the junk he'd gotten hooked on was leaving his system, listening to him pray to the almighty like he never had in his life.

He cried like a baby when he realized what he'd done. Asked the Lord to take him then because he could've gotten people killed.

I stepped up and put my boot on his foot 'til he cried harder. Told him to shut up, turn himself around, and make amends for his God and for himself. I helped him up when he'd had his fill of pain, let him bawl in my arms like a little boy who'd gotten himself into something far too serious for his years.

Preacher man swore he'd do right. He'd serve his people. I told him I'd be checking in to make sure he did, and if he ever went off the track – well, he'd be fuckin' lucky to end up in a Tennessee prison cell.

Of course, my old man didn't give a shit about him getting clean, or the fact that the meth lab in the church might've blown several blocks to kingdom come. Early was pissed because the drug trade around here washis, and nobody muscled in on his territory with that cheap, inferior junk cooked up in test tubes.

Preacher man came out clean, and stayed that way. I kept an eye on his ass every other year, and occasionally had the prospects look through his windows when he wasn't around. They'd never seen him relapse, and he'd become a gospel sensation around town ever since, all because we'd made him a believer in everything he said.

Faith is a powerful thing, but sometimes it needs a helping hand.

Ma ran upstairs to change while I returned to the counter, stuffing my pipe in my pocket, wondering how I'dhandle Firefly if he wanted to have it out over his sis at the big shindig about to go down.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be stupid. With any luck, we'd save settling our accounts for another day, since nobody wanted to put their personal shit in between another brother's vows.

“Ready when you are, Dusty,” she said, standing by the door, wearing a purple Sunday dress I hadn't seen in years.

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