Page 22 of Priest

We owned two strip clubs, a bar, a restaurant, a car wash, a chop shop, a gun range, a tattoo shop, and a couple of motorcycle dealerships. Those were the legal businesses. The illegal ones included illegal arms dealing, drug dealing, and underground casinos. Our projects had everything to do with keeping shit in order for those three businesses, including terminating anyone who got in our way. We used the money from those businesses to help those less fortunate, mostly the homeless and runaways.

Then there was my pet project, the one where I un-alived bastards who threatened the safety of young homeless teens and runaways. I didn’t play that shit.

“Priest.”

I turned to see Sunny head in my direction as everyone else broke out.

Irritation flowed through me because I wanted to get back to Ember. After the way she’d sucked my dick last night, I couldn’t think of anything else. I hadn’t wanted to leave her today and go to the clubhouse to hold “church,” but I’d slacked off enough lately.

“Wassup?”

“This deal with the Morgan kid. Are you sure that your obsession with taking Morgan out doesn’t have anything to do with?—”

The way I mugged that nigga so hard instantly shut him up. Sunny lifted his hands in the air and apologized. “My bad, man. I meant no harm. Just want to make sure that this ain’t so personal that it’s compromising your judgment.”

I took three steps to Sunny and turned my mug up harder.

“You questioning my fucking judgment, Sunny?” I asked after I’d spit my candy out into the wrapper.

“Nah, that ain’t what I’m doing. Just wanna make sure you good.”

“I fucking took this biker crew from the ragtag crew that Soul built twenty years ago when we were just scrawny teens eating out of trash cans and playing stickup kid to make it through the day, and I built a fucking empire. Don’t you ever question my judgment. I haven’t done and won’t ever do anything to jeopardize my men or these businesses. Y’all my family, Sunny. All I muthafuckin got. You feel me?”

“Yeah, Priest. Fuck. You ain’t been like this since?—”

Another mug from me shut his ass up again.

“All right, Priest. I’ma be out now.”

“Yeah, you do that,” I replied in a threatening tone.

Sunny was my boy, and he had been, since we’d met fifteen years ago on the streets at fifteen years old. But I wouldn’t tolerate him or anyone else questioning my judgment.

I headed into the den, the main area of the club house.

“Hey, Priest,” Cheekz called.

I turned and experienced a sinking sensation inside of me. That shit was new. I was usually indifferent where the sweet butts were concerned, but I’d always been partial where Cheekz was concerned.

“Wassup,” I answered. I stopped and turned toward her.

She walked up to me and looped her arms around my neck, and I rested my hands at her waist.

“You haven’t been here in a minute.”

“I’ve been home. Been busy.”

“With that bitch you took?” she asked. “Ain’t that the same ho that was at the tattoo shop that day?”

“Jealousy ain’t a good look on you, Cheekz. I’m no one’s property.”

“Yeah, but I gotta be yours.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“You want me to sit around waiting for you, and you haven’t stayed overnight at the club in over a week. Ever since that?—”

Cheekz stopped speaking when my hands gripped her waist tightly, and my eyes darkened.

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