Page 20 of Preacher

"You can blame me all you want, but we both know who’s to blame.” Sergei shook his head with condemnation. “You should’ve paid your damn taxes.”

This wasn’t good.

Instead of trying to defuse the situation, my son was antagonizing him.

I don’t know what he was thinking. This guy was already on edge and had a gun pointed at him. The man’s entire body was trembling with fury, and his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

Dear Lord. He was going to do it.

He was going to shoot Sergei.

Sergei reached behind him and drew his weapon. He started charging towards the man but stopped when the older biker lifted his hand and shook his head. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Sergei didn’t take orders from anyone, not even his father, but with a simple hand gesture, this guy had my son lowering his weapon and stepping back.

Confused by Sergei’s sudden change in demeanor, the man glanced around, and the blood drained from his face when he saw the biker walking towards him. Uncertainty flickered across his face. “You who I think you are?”

“I am.” The biker kept his face free of emotion. “Folks call me Preacher.”

“You’re with Fury.”

“I am.”

“But what are you doing here…with them?”

“That’s not any concern of yours.” The biker took a step forward. “You Larry Branson’s boy?”

“Yeah.” The man lowered his head. “Bet he’s rolling over in his grave right about now.”

“He was a good man. I doubt he’d want his one and only son to be in a spot like this.” The biker glanced down at the gun in the man’s hand. “Why don’t you put that away before you lose more than just your land?”

“This guy’s got it coming.”

"Maybe so, but you’re about to make a choice youcan’ttake back."

Preacher was calm, confident, and with ease, he had full control of the situation. And I was spellbound. I’d never seen a man handle himself in such a determined manner. Dimitri was just the opposite. He wouldn’t have wasted time with words. He would’ve just had one of his men kill him right then and there, and the whole thing would be over.

But Preacher wasn’t so quick to take a stranger’s life.

Instead, he was diffusing the situation with reason and presence, and it was effective.More than that—it wasimpressive.

And to my unfathomable surprise, I found myself drawn to that quiet authority. I found myself drawn tohim, which made no sense whatsoever. This man was in a biker club, and they called him Preacher. And not only that, he was tattooed and dangerous and unbelievably sexy.

Clearly, I needed therapy, and lots of it.

Preacher walked slowly toward the man, and he spoke low and calm as he said, “I get that you’re pissed. Sounds like you have every right to be, but there’s got to be a better way to handle this.”

The man didn’t respond.

He just stood there staring at the biker, and the silence was suffocating.

And then, the man’s grip loosened. His arm dropped, and he let out a ragged breath. Sergei turned to his brothers and demanded, "Get him the fuck out of here. And his buddies, too.”

Nikolai and Viktor moved in, pulling the man and his friends toward the exit. He didn’t resist. His fight was gone.

As they dragged him away, Preacher turned his focus to me, and I was dazed by the intensity of dark eyes as they slowly skirted over me. “You alright?”

“I am. Thanks to you.” I exhaled shakily and tried to force a smile. “I really appreciate your help.”

“Don’t mention it.”

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