Page 9 of Preacher

“No. I just need to be in the wind,” Preacher told them as he walked toward where his bike now sat parked outside the clubhouse.

“I can call the others.” It wasn’t a suggestion, just more like a nudge to have more backup.

“Nah, let’s just take a ride the four of us, for now.” Preacher walked past Bones, resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let’s just ride,” he repeated.

ChapterSix

At two in the morning, Preacher still hadn’t heard from Jack. When he’d finally had enough, he decided to track her phone. He told himself it was to make sure she was okay, but the truth was, he wanted to know what the fuck she was doing with another man at two in the morning. When her location ended up being a hotel in Mendocino, he got pissed and called Bones.

Now, Preacher sat on his Harley, staring at the hotel room door along with Bones and Wrench. They’d been sitting there for a solid hour, watching and waiting for Jack to step outside, but that hadn’t happened. It was three-thirty in the damn morning, and there they still sat. He didn’t know why Wrench had come. The brother barely left Frisco and the baby, and this wasn’t work. This was a problem Preacher needed to solve.

Done waiting, he clicked his tongue against his cheek. Climbing off his bike, Preacher handed Bones the gun and knife he always carried. He wasn’t going to jail over a woman. He just wanted . . .hell, what did he want?To know. He wanted to fucking know if she was screwing around on him.Why did it matter?This . . . whatever it was . . . was over as far as he was concerned.

As Preacher stepped up to the door, he settled himself, trying to keep the anger to a minimum. The problem was he wore it like a warm, comforting blanket. Even relished in it whenever he could unleash it all. Standing there, he listened for a moment and heard nothing. Raising his hand, his mind said pound on the damn thing, but he didn’t want Jack to know it was him until the door was open. Instead of beating down the door, he rapped on it. When nothing happened, he did it again.

Sounds coming from inside the room had him taking one step back. The door came open on a pull, and Preacher saw the half-naked guy standing in front of him and Jack lying under a sheet on the bed. The anger bubbled up and poured out of him like a volcano erupting. Gone was the composure. Gone was the calm.

In one fast move, he had the guy yanked out of the room and up against the building, his forearm pressing against his throat. Wide eyes stared at him as Preacher manacled the guy’s hands with his free one. “You touched what’s mine,” he growled from deep in his throat as he pressed harder against the guy’s windpipe. The sound of running feet came from behind him, and he pressed harder.

“Preacher, stop,” Jack screamed from inside the room as his brothers pulled him off the guy.

“She’s not worth fucking prison, man,” Wrench said as he held onto Preacher.

Glancing into the room, he could see Jack shoving sheets away so she could scramble out of the bed. All she had on was panties and a T-shirt . . . a man’s T-shirt that wasn’t his.

“It’s not what you think!” she continued yelling at him as she stumbled to the door.

Preacher broke free from Wrench, grabbing the guy again. He felt Jack slap at him to let go of her friend. Preacher could see her eyes were bloodshot, and she smelled like dope and stale beer.

“Get your shit and get on my bike, now,” Preacher shouted at her.

Jack took a step back, yelling at Preacher, “I’m not getting on the bike with you being pissed off.”

Preacher dipped his head down where she could see how serious he was. “You get on that fucking bike or don’t come home.”

“Fine! Let me get dressed,” Jack snapped back at him, not wanting to deal with the mess she’d made.

“Now, Jack,” Preacher bellowed, still shoving the guy against the building. He watched Jack’s eyes bounce from the guy back to him and then into the room. “Screw it,” Preacher said, and he let the guy go.

“No wonder why she wanted to be with me. You’re a dick,” the guy said through coughs.

Swinging around, Preacher punched the pretty boy in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. He wanted to tell the guy to keep her.

He didn’t.

He wanted to kick the kid in the head.

He didn’t.

What he did was turn and walk away. As he approached his bike, he heard Jack running up behind him. When he stopped and looked at her, she had all her clothes bunched up in her arms, her shoes on, and her purse shoved precariously over her shoulder.

She stopped abruptly, almost dropping her belongings as she stared back at him. Preacher turned around, unlocked one of the bike’s saddlebags, and let her drop the stuff inside. He didn’t say another word. He just threw a leg over the bike and settled into the seat. Jack climbed on and slid down behind him, her hands gently resting on his waist. If this had been any other time, he’d have tugged them to his stomach, pulling her against him. But at that moment, he wanted her to just sit there until they got home. She was lucky the pee pad was on the back fender or she’d be riding home on sheet metal.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he saw the douche she’d been with on the phone. He was probably calling his daddy, crying about a biker assaulting him.Let him call the cops, Preacher thought. He’d gladly go to jail for knocking the shit out of the punk ass bitch.

When light rain began to fall minutes after leaving the hotel, he should have fucking cared that she would get cold. It should have bothered him that she was probably half-soaked ten minutes into the ride as the rain became heavier. He should have pulled over to the side of the road and given her his jacket when he felt her shivering. He should have done all of it, but he hadn’t, and he wasn’t going to.

Jack had made her bed, and now, she had to lay in it. She would have to deal with the outcome. Preacher wasn’t surprised as he pulled his bike into the driveway and Bones and Wrench pulled in behind him. He knew why Bones was there. He was there to make sure Preacher didn’t put his hands on Jack. Little did his brother know, he would never do that. Wrench was probably there for moral support, or retrieval service for Jack if things got heated and Bones had to intervene.What did that say about him, he wondered.

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