Page 25 of Preacher (Reckless Souls MC 4)

Gia swallows. “Nothing specific. I moved some of the church money around a couple of times.”

“Church money? How much?” Coop leans forward, very interested in her answer.

“Couple-hundred grand, maybe two-fifty.” Gia shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but her entire body is tight with tension.

“Do you know the account owners?”

She laughs. “Frank? Yeah, I know Frank. They were all church accounts.”

“You didn’t find that suspicious?” I ask because Gia seems like a smart woman and would have had questions.

“No. Why would I? Frank was a nice guy to Mom, and he didn’t treat me like a piece of shit. He actually complimented me on my skills and told me I should do something with them.”

Her shoulders droop, and she lets out a tired sigh. “He gave me five hundred bucks for the job.”

“How was he after you made the transfers?”

She shrugs. “Squirrely the whole time I was doing it, but once it was done, he seemed more relaxed, ya know?”

Gia downs her drink in one smooth gulp. “Can I get another one?”

Ace nods. “Yeah, Coop, can you get Gia a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ace continues, “I would consider it a personal favor if you could get me the account numbers where the money originated, Gia.”

“And if I can’t?”

Ace shrugs. “I’ll be disappointed, but you’ll be safe.”

She nods and picks up her purse, producing a pen. “You know why his church burned down? Ro says the news is calling it arson.” She snatches a napkin from the table and starts writing really fast.

“I do,” Ace confirms. “It wasn’t this MC, which is how I know Frank is alive, but without us, he won’t be for long.”

Gia accepts the half-truth and hands the napkin to Ace. “That’s the account number. We done here?”

“You don’t need to look it up?”

“I have a head for numbers.”

“Well, how about that? Yeah, we’re done. Thanks for your help, Gia.”

“Whatever, Ace,” she says in a tired voice and stands up, taking the fresh drink from Coop and gulping it down.

“Get her home safe,” Ace orders.

I nod and stand to follow Gia.

“See if you can thaw her a little,” Coop suggests.

I nod and find Gia resting against my bike with a cigarette between her lips.

“Terrible habit.”

“Yeah,” she grunts. “I’m full of terrible habits.” She steps back and waits for me to get on the bike. When I do, Gia tosses the cigarette butt, stomps on it, and hops on. She’s less handsy than before, which I both hate and appreciate.

It’s not easy to ride a bike this size with a cock as hard as steel, and the way her hands roamed my body on the way over had been sweet blissful torture.

---