4. Preacher
PREACHER
Deacon had the buyer stripped down to its bones by nine the next morning.
The company on Holly’s offer existed. It had an office, a bank, an attorney and enough paperwork to survive the kind of search most people stopped at, but Deacon had kept digging.
He stood at the end of the clubhouse table with his laptop open while Smoke leaned against the wall and Gage sat opposite me. We’d kept the meeting small; I didn’t need eight men crowding around a screen while we still had more questions than answers.
“Acquisition company was formed six months ago,” Deacon said. “No history before that. It’s owned by another LLC out of Arizona, which is owned by a holding company that shares an address with a transport outfit that’s been flagged in more than one federal investigation.”
“Drugs?” Gage asked.
“Drugs, money, people. Depends which file you read.”
Smoke folded his arms, all humor gone. “Cartel.”
Deacon nodded. “Close enough that I wouldn’t sell them a shed.”
The names meant nothing to me, but the structure did. Companies stacked behind companies, clean enough for some polished asshole to make Holly a cash offer and expect a signature.
“Other properties?”
Deacon clicked to another page. “That’s where it gets interesting. Different shell names, same pattern. Storage lot near the old rail spur, fuel access outside town and Moreno’s warehouse. Two offers, one quiet inquiry, one owner suddenly decided he didn’t want to talk after all.”
Smoke’s expression hardened as the implication settled. “Somebody leaned on him.”
“Would be my guess.”
Salvation had been picked because it looked weak.
One sheriff, barely any deputies, struggling businesses and enough empty property that outsiders could convince themselves nobody would care who bought what.
The cartel was buying pieces first and figuring out which routes, yards and buildings could be useful.
Smart, if they’d chosen somewhere other than my town.
“They want a foothold,” I said. “Freight gives them trucks, storage and a reason to move in and out without anybody asking why.”
Gage’s mouth flattened as he looked at the screen. “And they think Rowan dying makes the place easy.”
That part got under my skin in a way the rest didn’t.
Curtis Freight had never belonged to the club.
Rowan wasn’t patched, never wanted to be, and I’d never tried to pull him into our business.
But he’d been mine in the ways that mattered.
My friend, my brother without the leather.
Somebody had looked at his death, looked at Holly inheriting the place and decided they’d found a weak point.
They were about to learn the difference between vulnerable and undefended.
Smoke watched me for a beat before asking, “You telling White?”
“Not directly. He can find his side without me pretending we suddenly work together.”
Smoke gave me a look. “That stubborn thing you two do is going to get old.”
“It’s already old.”
White had spent years trying to make arrests stick while I made sure he couldn’t. We weren’t friends, and somebody worse coming to town didn’t change that, but I didn’t want him blind either.
“Send him the names of the shell companies anonymously,” I said.
Deacon grinned like he knew exactly how much that would irritate me. “That’s almost civic-minded.”
“Say that again and I’ll break your laptop.”
Smoke laughed, but Gage understood what I meant. White could chase his side without knowing where the information came from, and I could chase mine without pretending a badge made him part of the club’s decisions.
My phone buzzed on the table, and Holly’s name lit the screen.
I answered before it could buzz twice. “Hey.”
“I want to meet the buyer.”
Every man at the table looked at me because apparently my face said enough.
“No.”
There was a pause on the other end. “That’s cute. I already called him.”
I closed my eyes for a second while Smoke muttered something that sounded like good luck.
“Holly.”
“I want to hear what he says when I tell him I know who they are.”
“You don’t know who they are.”
“No, but I know enough to ask better questions than I asked the first time.”
“And if he doesn’t like the questions?”
“That’s why I’m telling you where I’m going.”
She wasn’t asking; she was telling me, and I should have been irritated. Instead, something hot and inconvenient moved through my chest because she’d understood exactly what I’d told her from the beginning. The company was hers, and the decision had to be hers too.
“Where did you set it?”
“The motel restaurant at noon. He suggested somewhere public, and yes, I assume you’re coming.”
“You assumed right.”
She hung up before I could answer, and Smoke waited exactly two seconds. “How’s that control problem working out for you?”
“Fuck off.”
His grin followed me out of the room.
Some hours later, Sheriff White’s cruiser rolled through the clubhouse gate slowly enough that every brother outside noticed. He parked where he could see the front door, got out alone and looked around like the whole property offended him personally.
I walked over before he decided to wander farther in. “You lost?”
“Anonymous tip landed on my desk this morning. Know anything about that?”
“No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Three shell companies. Same registered contacts. Same pattern of property approaches.”
“Sounds useful. You should look into that.”
White stared at me with the patience of a man already regretting the visit. “You want to keep doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending you don’t know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I folded my arms and gave him the same look back. “You came onto my property, Warren.”
“And somebody is trying to buy half my town through front companies.”
“Your town?”
His jaw tightened because he knew where I was going. “Don’t.”
There it was, the same old argument except this time neither of us had the luxury of pretending the only thing at stake was which side of town got to be annoyed by the other.
White pulled a folded sheet from his pocket. “I’ve had reports from two business owners. People coming into this town and asking questions. One owner then changed his story before I could take a formal statement. Another suddenly decided he’d never spoken to anybody.”
“People get nervous.”
“No shit.”
He looked tired, not weak. White still wanted to hold the line because that was what his badge meant to him, but the line had gotten longer while his department kept shrinking.
“You think this is cartel-connected?” he asked.
“I think strangers are buying useful property and asking useful questions.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.” White stepped closer, lowering his voice. “If you know something that affects people in this town, you tell me.”
“You going to suddenly have six deputies and federal backup if I do?”
Anger flashed in his eyes because the answer was obvious. “That doesn’t make you the law.”
“I never said it did. I just don’t have time to wait for law that isn’t coming.”
For a second neither of us spoke. He hated that answer, and I could see it. Hated me for saying it, hated himself for knowing there was truth in it and probably hated every county budget meeting and unanswered request that had left him standing here by himself.
Finally he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Whatever you’re planning, keep civilians out of it.”
“That includes Holly?”
“That especially includes Holly.”
I looked toward my bike. “You might want to tell her that.”
White swore under his breath. “What has she done?”
“Set up a meeting with the buyer. It’s happening now.”
His expression sharpened as he folded the paper away. “I’m coming.”
“You show up in uniform, they shut down. Holly wants answers, so let her ask the questions before you announce yourself.”
“And you’re what, moral support?”
“Call it whatever you want.”
“That answer is exactly what worries me.”
I swung onto the bike. “Get used to being worried.” I started the engine and rode through the gates towards the motel leaving the Sheriff behind me.
The motel restaurant had four occupied tables and air-conditioning that barely worked.
Holly was already there when I arrived, sitting in a booth near the back with a glass of iced tea and a folder beside her.
She’d changed since we were last together.
Dark jeans, sleeveless black top, hair loose around her shoulders.
My first thought had nothing to do with cartels or property purchases, which told me exactly how much trouble I was in.
Her eyes moved over me when I sat down opposite her. “You look annoyed.”
“I had a conversation with Sheriff White.”
“That explains a lot.”
“You planning on telling me before you arrange meetings with men who send people to break into your business?”
“I did tell you, just after I arranged it.” She smiled sweetly, looking entirely unrepentant. “That still counts.”
I was deciding whether kissing her in the middle of the argument would improve anything when the representative walked in.
The polished man from before wasn’t alone this time.
Someone heavier and older followed him in, built like the kind of man who’d stopped needing to prove he could hurt people years ago.
His eyes went to me before they went to Holly.
That was enough to tell me what his brief was.
“Ms. Curtis,” the representative said. “I wasn’t aware you’d be bringing anyone.”
Holly gestured toward the booth. “You brought someone.”
“Mr. Vega advises my client on their regional operations.”
I filed the name away without assuming it meant anything beyond this room. Vega slid into the booth beside the representative.
“You’re Preacher.”
“Holly’s meeting,” I said. “Talk to her.”
His attention shifted to Holly, but the slight smile told me he’d understood the answer.
Holly opened the folder and laid the first page flat. “I’m not signing Friday.”
The representative’s expression barely changed. “Is there a concern we can address?”
“Several. Let’s start with why your company knows details about Curtis Freight that were never disclosed during negotiations.”
“Due diligence—”
“Doesn’t include breaking into my warehouse.”
That stopped him, and Vega leaned back. “That’s a serious allegation.”
“I didn’t say you did it.” Holly held his gaze without giving an inch. “Interesting that you heard it that way.”
I kept my face blank, although pride hit me hard enough to be irritating.
The representative tried to recover. “Our client remains very interested in closing. Perhaps emotions are running high after your father’s death.”
Holly’s expression cooled so fast the representative finally lost his smile. “Don’t use my father to explain my decisions.”
“The offer is generous. More generous than the company is worth. You should consider whether walking away is in your best interest.”
“I’m considering it.”
“No. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
I watched Holly’s shoulders straighten. “My company. My decision.”
Vega reached across the table and caught her wrist. Everything after that happened fast. I was out of the booth before the representative managed to move.
My hand closed around Vega’s wrist and twisted until his grip broke and something in the joint popped.
His face changed, but I didn’t let go. He came up swinging with the other hand, and I drove him backward into the edge of the next table hard enough to send glasses crashing onto the floor.
People shouted, and somebody near the counter stood up, but I didn’t care. Vega tried to straighten, so I caught him by the throat, slammed him against the wall and squeezed just enough to make his face change again.
“You put your hands on her again,” I said quietly, “and next time I take the hand off.”
His eyes narrowed instead of widening, which suited me better. Fear would have made him stupid, while anger told me he understood exactly what kind of conversation this was.
The representative grabbed my arm. “Stop. Are you insane?”
I turned my head, and he let go immediately, proving he had at least one useful instinct.
Holly stood beside the table, rubbing the red mark on her wrist. When my eyes landed on it, something inside me went colder, and Vega saw it happen.
“You think this town belongs to you?” he asked, voice strained under my hand.
“Yeah, I do.” I loosened my grip enough for him to breathe properly. “You came here thinking nobody was watching. You were wrong.”
“Preacher!”
Holly’s voice cut through the restaurant noise, and I looked at her.
She wasn’t frightened by what she saw. She was angry and flushed, breathing harder than normal, but there was no horror in her face when she looked at my hand around Vega’s throat.
That mattered more than it should have, and I released him.
Vega cradled his injured wrist while the representative hurriedly gathered the folder he’d brought with him.
Holly picked up her own folder. “The sale is on hold. You contact me through my attorney from now on.”
Vega gave her a hard look. “You should think carefully before making that decision.”
“I just did.”
He looked at me once more before leaving with the representative. The restaurant had gone almost silent.
Holly picked up her bag. “We should probably go before somebody calls the sheriff.”
“Somebody already did.”
She looked toward the front windows as White’s cruiser pulled into the parking lot, then started laughing under her breath.
I looked at the lone cruiser outside, then at the red marks around her wrist. White could have the report if he wanted, but I had something else to deal with.
Holly caught my hand before I could move toward the door, her fingers closing around mine without hesitation.
I looked down at them, then at her. She’d just watched me wrench a man’s wrist until it popped and put him against a wall by his throat, and she was still standing close enough that her shoulder brushed mine.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m pissed off more than anything else.”
“Good. I can work with pissed off.” I replied.
Her mouth curved despite the mark on her wrist. “That’s a strange response.”
“Means you’re not scared of me.”
“I know what you are, Preacher. I’ve always known what you are.”
The words landed harder than I expected. I squeezed her hand once before letting go. Outside, White was already climbing out of his cruiser with the expression of a man who knew exactly what he was about to find and hated every part of it.
Salvation still had a sheriff, and it also had us. The men buying their way into town were starting to understand the difference.