Page 22 of Preacher

I’d seen that look many times in my day.

It was a look that a man gave when he’d reached his limit.

Sergei had to know he was on the brink, but he didn’t back down. Instead, the smug bastard taunted him. It was like he wasn’t even fazed by the fact that the man in front of him was pointing a gun at his head and was seconds away from pulling the damn trigger.

Things were going south, and I knew I had no choice but to try and intervene. It wasn’t until I stepped closer that I recognized the man as Branson’s son. I didn’t know much about him, just that he’d taken over his father’s bar a few months before he died. He’d tried to make a go of it, and clearly, he’d failed.

He wasn’t a bad guy. Just a desperate one. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that, given the rightopportunity, he could do something with his life.

Maybe we could give him that.

I leaned back in my chair as I asked, “We got a place for him at the Vault? Maybe a bouncer or bartender?”

“I could find a spot for him,” Seven answered. “But need to find out if he’s interested.”

“Let’s call him in and see what he has to say.”

“You got it.”

Satan’s Fury had always looked after our own. Sometimes, we even looked after those who weren’t. Branson’s boy was in a tight spot. He had nothing to lose, but it wouldn’t take much for that to change. He needed a chance, and for whatever reason, I felt compelled to give it to him.

I don’t know what it was about him, but he’d gotten under my skin. And he wasn’t the only one. She had, too.

I didn’t have to ask to know who she was. The resemblance was too strong. She had the same sharp features as Sergei and the same quiet intensity as Nikolai. There was no doubt about it.

She was their mother.

I wasn’t often caught off guard, but the sight of her damn near took my breath away. She was the kind of beauty that stood the test of time. She might’ve been fifty, maybe younger, and she had shoulder-length hair with a gray streak that framed her face effortlessly. And her eyes—hazel, deep, and burdened—felt like they could see straight through me.

She carried herself with a quiet kind of power that didn’t need to be announced. It was in the way she moved and the way she spoke.

Calm, controlled, and unwavering.

I’d met plenty of strong women in my time, but there was something different about her. Something thatstuckwith me long after I walked out of that building.

It had been a long time since a woman had gotten under my skin like that, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. But that didn’t stop me from turning to Shep and saying, “I need you to look into the mother.”

“You want to know anything in particular?”

“Anything and everything.” Before he could ask why, I added, “We need to know all aspects of this partnership, and that includes her.”

“Already done.” He smirked like he was getting one over on me. “I checked her out when I was looking into the brothers, but there wasn’t much to find. Her name’s Tabitha. She grew up in New York, and her folks were dirt poor. Her mother got sick. Really sick, and there wasn’t much they could do for her.”

“So, how’d she end up with someone like Dimitri Volkov?”

“Hard to say. Something must’ve happened because she married him right around the time her mother died. Hell, she was only sixteen at the time.”

His tone turned pointed at that last bit like he knew I’d catch the weight of it. And I did. “Yeah, there’s a story there.”

“No doubt, but I have no idea what it is.” He shook his head. “There’s no paper trail. No records. Just one day, she’s a poor kid with a sick mother, and the next, she’s married to one of the most dangerous men in the state.”

“What else you got?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know.” Shep shrugged. “She’s got three sons and has always kept to herself. When Dimitri died, they sold everything and moved here. Now, she spends most of her time working with horses.”

“Horses?”

“Yeah, the barn in the back of the property is hers. She’s got everything from million-dollar horses to broken-down mares that she saved from a kill pen.”

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