3. Preacher
3
PREACHER
S leep never came easy, but when it did, it was rarely kind.
It felt like I’d barely closed my eyes when I was back there again—back to the night when everything fell apart.
It was just over a year ago. I was sitting at the bar, enjoying a cold one with Grim and Creed, and Beckett came barreling in with his face red with anger. He stormed over to me with his fists clenched and his eyes burning with a rage I’d never seen in him before. “Ruben and his crew raped and killed her.”
“Raped and killed who?”
“Amy!” he roared. “They broke into her place, raped, tortured, and killed her!”
I loved him, but my boy was young and na?ve. He thought this girl was going to be his one and only, and he’d already started making plans with her. It was clear that he was distraught over her death, and I got it. Nothing worse than losing someone you care about, especially in such a horrific way.
“When?”
“Some time last night. Cops think they got in when she was letting the dog out.” I knew my son well enough to know that he was on the verge of losing it when he shouted, “We gotta go after them and make ‘em pay!”
“We aren’t going after them.” My voice was firm and left no room for argument.
Beckett flinched like I’d purposefully wounded him. “How can you say that? She was my girl, and…”
“She was a sweet kid, son, and it’s a shame that happened to her. But she’s got no ties to this club.”
“She’s got ties to me! That’s gotta mean something!”
His voice cracked, and it was clear from the pained look in his eyes he was barely holding it together. There was no denying that he was my son. He looked just like me, but he had his mother’s blood running through his veins. And like her, he loved without restraint.
At times that was admirable, but now, it was keeping him from thinking straight. He was clenching his fists and moving his weight from one foot to the other. He was on the edge of a breakdown when he shouted, “She was everything to me, and they butchered her like she was nothing!”
I could see he was hurting, and I hated it.
I wanted to help him, but I had the club to consider.
“I’m sorry, Beck, but this wasn’t a strike against the club.”
Truth was, I did want blood. I wanted it bad. But I knew this crew. I knew them well. They were nothing but trouble and were always wreaking havoc. So much so, they’d caught the attention of the FBI.
They were building a case against them.
Wires.
Surveillance.
And possibly a rat on the inside.
If we went after them and wiped them out, it would only be a matter of time before the FBI caught wind of it. And when that happened, they’d turn their attention to us.
I couldn’t take the chance on the club going down in the crossfire.
Beckett looked like he was teetering on the edge when I added, “As fucked up as it might’ve been, we’re not getting involved.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“I know you’re hurting, son, but we don’t move on emotion. You go after them, and you start a war we can’t afford to fight.”
“So what?” He looked utterly defeated as he asked, “You just expect me to let it go?”
“That’s exactly what I expect you to do.”
He didn’t get it. He wanted revenge. He thought it would ease the hurt and anger, but I knew revenge would only make it worse. I thought some time away would help, so I sent him to Washington to spend some time with our chapter there. I thought the time away would settle the storm inside him, but it didn’t.
If anything, it made it worse.
It wasn’t the only fight we had over Amy. He came to me again and again, but the answer was always the same. And it was an answer he couldn’t accept.
The dream shifted and twisted into something darker.
I heard the words, ‘They killed him’, and it nearly knocked me off my feet. I’d never felt a jolt like that. It was like someone had taken a dagger and slammed right into my heart. I couldn’t think or speak. I just kept hearing those three words over and over.
My world started crashing down around me, and I was consumed with doubt and regret. I told myself it was the smart call.
But every time I saw the cold, dead look in Beckett’s eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if I chose the club over him. And maybe I did.
It was my job to lead and protect, and I hadn’t protected the one person who needed me the most. I’d failed him, and I’d failed myself.
His casket came into view, and I jolted awake.
I was covered in sweat, and my heart was pounding. The room was still dark. The morning light was just starting to creep through the blinds. I didn’t move. I just laid there, staring up at the ceiling with my chest tight and my head tangled up in a dream that clung to me like a second skin.
Beckett.
My son. My legacy. My biggest regret.
I should’ve done more. I should’ve known I was losing him. I should’ve pulled him back before he spiraled. I should’ve never sent him to Washington like he was some problem to be handled. My boy was drowning, and I pawned him off. I told myself it was for the best—that he needed to find his way like I had.
But he wasn’t me.
And now, he was gone.
I ran a hand down my face and let out a long breath. Dreams like this weren’t new. I had them all the time, but they never got any easier.
Hell, maybe they were more than just dreams.
Maybe it was Beckett’s way of reminding me of all the ways I’d failed him.
That weighed on me in ways I couldn’t begin to explain. I needed to shake this off and mentally prepare for the day ahead. We had a run coming up, and business was booming at the Vault. I needed to be at the top of my game and to do that, I needed coffee and lots of it.
I sat up, and as I eased the covers back, I heard the faint clatter of dishes. Soon after, I caught the slight scent of bacon. Someone was up, and from the smell of it, they were making a damn good breakfast.
With a groan, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and my joints protested the movement. I sat there for a second and shook off the last remnants of the dream.
After a moment, I pushed to my feet and started for the bathroom. I took a quick shower, got dressed, and headed for the kitchen, following the scent of bacon and the promise of a new day.
The scent of bacon and coffee grew stronger as I got closer to the kitchen, but there was still a trace of last night’s whiskey and smoke lingering in the air. Our hang-arounds were the ones stuck with breakfast duty, but when I walked into the kitchen, I didn’t find a couple of blondes with great tits. Instead, I found Goose.
He stood there with a spatula in his hand, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. He looked like a damn poster boy for trouble—young, strong, and still carrying that cocky ease that came with knowing you could take on the world. I couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of something deep in my chest.
Not jealousy. Hell, I’d never been the jealous kind. Didn’t have to be. This was more of a reminder of the time gone by. I used to look just like him. Muscled up, young, and tough, and I could turn a head or two. Now, my bones ached when I got out of bed, and I might’ve groaned a little. And there was more gray in my beard than I cared to admit.
I walked over and started pouring myself a cup of coffee as I grumbled, “Why the hell aren’t you home cookin’ at your own place?”
“Had a late night.” His smirk was all pride and mischief. “Didn’t see the point in driving back when I could just crash here.”
“You better watch it.” I shook my head. “You gonna make someone a hell of a wife someday.”
“Wife my ass and no husband either.” Goose laughed as he grabbed the plate beside him and started to pile on bacon. “I mean, come on. It’d take one hell of a woman to tie all this down.”
“Or a cattle hand,” I scoffed. “But they’d need to muzzle you, too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He set the plate on the counter and gave me one of his looks. “How come you never stay at your place anymore?”
“Too damn quiet.”
The words came out before I really thought about them, but they were true. My place wasn’t a home. It was just four walls and a bed I barely slept in.
Goose didn’t say anything. He just nodded like he got it. And maybe he did. The club had always been my home. It was the only thing that ever really felt like one, and I had a feeling it was the same for him. Goose was always poking fun and making jokes, but I knew it was just a ruse.
The kid had been through a lot, more than most. Hell, the kid had been chewed up and spit out by life more than once, but he kept going. Kept laughing and acting like nothing could touch him. But I saw through it. He had his struggles, but he hadn’t let them define him.
“What about you? What’s your excuse?”
“I already told ya.” He wouldn’t look at me as he said, “I had a late night.”
“Um-hmm, and what’s the real reason.”
“Ain’t much point in going home to an empty house.” He shrugged. “Nothing but ghosts there.”
“I get it. Home is where the heart is and all that.” I took another drink of my coffee before adding, “But the club has ghosts of its own. Ain’t the same kind, but they’re there.”
I thought of the ones that still haunted me—the faces and names I couldn’t shake. Some I’d lost. Some I’d let go, and some, like Beckett, I carried like a goddamn anchor. Goose finally looked up and gave me one of his smiles. “But ain’t just ghosts here. There’s family, too.”
“You’re right about that.” I reached over and stole a handful of bacon before saying, “Thanks for the breakfast.”
Without saying anything more, I turned and walked out.
The office was a mess. Papers were stacked in uneven piles across my desk, and next to the largest pile was an old coffee cup I’d been meaning to toss out for over a week. I ignored the clutter and got to work.
I started with the inventory from our last run and made notes on any changes we might want to make for the next. The mushrooms were moving better than any of us had expected. That was good news. It meant we were building something sustainable, and I couldn’t have been more pleased.
The door creaked open, and Ghost stepped in, rubbing the back of his neck like he was about to ask for a favor. “Hey, Prez.”
I sighed, setting down my pen. “What you need?”
He grimaced. “Pretty sure we got a busted pipe out back.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Cause there’s water spewing everywhere.”
“And what the hell caused that?”
“Memphis may or may not have backed over it with the track hoe.”
“Of course he did.” I shook my head. “Call Emit. He should be able to fix it without charging us a fortune.”
“You got it.”
“And tell shithead to be more careful.”
He left, and before I could get back to the books, Rusty was in the doorway, a smirk on his face and a beer in his hand.
“You got any wise words for a man who might’ve accidentally proposed to one of the girls at the Vault and forgot about it?”
“Don’t make promises you ain’t gonna keep.”
“Fair enough.”
One by one, they kept coming.
Some wanted advice. Some needed favors.
Some just wanted to shoot the shit. While there were times when it could be exhausting, I never complained. It was one of the many nuances that came with being president. My boys depended on me, and I depended on them.
I got back to work, and it wasn’t long before Creed walked in. He was the club’s VP and my closest friend. We’d been running the club together for almost twenty years, but we’d been friends for even longer.
Creed gave me one of his looks then asked, “Another bad night?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Might need to talk to someone about that.”
“I talked to you.”
“Not what I meant, and you know it.” He sat down in front of me as he said, “You can’t keep going like this. Beck wouldn’t want you to.”
“I don’t know. I think he might,” I scoffed. “He’d think it was Karma or some shit like that.”
“Yeah, you might be right,” Creed chuckled. “Your boy could be an asshole, just like his ol’ man.”
“Not in the mood, Creed.”
“Which is why you need to think about talking to someone.”
“Not seeing some fucking shrink, brother.”
“Then, talk to Blade and see if he can give ya something to sleep.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, while you’re thinking…” He tossed a folder onto my desk. “That’s the schedule for the next run. You good with it?”
I looked it over, and as usual, it was a solid plan. “Yeah. Make sure Rusty and Memphis are good to go. They’ll need to head out first thing.”
“Got it,” Creed replied as he continued looking over the paperwork.
I glanced up at the clock and groaned when I saw that it was after seven. Most of the guys had already eaten, some had gone home, and the clubhouse had settled into its usual nighttime lull. I let out a long breath, stretching my shoulders as I closed the last of the books for the day.
Creed stood as he announced, “I think it’s about time we called it a day.”
“I was just thinking the same.”
The words had barely left my mouth when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Duggar calling. I picked it up and answered, “Yeah?”
“Hey, Prez. Hate to bother ya, but you might wanna get down to the Vault.”
“Why’s that?”
“One of the Volkov boys just walked in.” I could hear the concern in his voice when he added, “And I gotta feeling he ain’t here for the show.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hung up, and as I stood, I looked over to Creed. “Looks like our day ain’t over yet.”
“What’s going on?”
“One of the Volkov boys is at the club.”
“What the hell does he want?”
“I got no idea, but I intend to find out.”
Without another word, Creed followed me out to the lot. I could feel the question hanging between us, but I didn’t have any more answers than he did.
We came head-to-head with the Volkov brothers when they kidnapped Tallie. They were on the hunt for the money they’d entrusted with her father and used her to lure in her brother. They knew he had the information they needed, and once they got it, they released Tallie—unharmed. I thought that was the end of our run in with them.
Clearly, I was wrong.
I’d read all the intel Shep had found on the brothers. I knew they had heavy ties with the Russian mafia. While they didn’t play in the same field, their father had been a heavy hitter who ran things with a heavy hand. Dimitri might’ve been rotting in the ground, but his sons were cut from the same cloth. And no matter what business they were currently in, they still had his ties.
If he was at the Vault, there had there for a reason.
I swung a leg over my bike and was about to start her up when I spotted Memphis and Ghost rushing towards us. Concern marked my son’s face as he asked, “Where you two headed?”
“Duggar called,” I said, strapping on my helmet. “One of the Volkov boys is at the Vault.”
Ghost and Memphis exchanged a look, and Ghost was quick to reply, “We’re coming with you.”
Didn’t bother arguing. They would’ve followed me no matter what I said. So, I just started my bike and pulled out of the gate. I used the ride over to clear my head and tried to prepare myself for whatever lay ahead. It wasn’t easy. I was irritated that this asshole had just shown up at our place unannounced.
It didn’t help matters that I was running on three hours of sleep and a few slices of overcooked bacon. I was wavering on the line of full-blown anger when we pulled up to the Vault. The place was busy but not packed like the night before.
Memphis and Ghost went in first, charging through the front doors like they were an unspoken warning. Me and Creed followed close behind. To everyone else, it was just a regular night. The bass was booming, deep and steady, and there was a low murmur of conversation and hoots and hollers from the crowd.
I barely noticed.
My eyes were already locked on Nikolai Volkov.
I’d recognized him right away. He was the youngest of the Volkov brothers, but he had an edge to him that his brothers didn’t have.
He sat at one of the side tables, leaning back like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was wearing a white, long-sleeve button-down and black slacks, and he showed no emotion as he sipped on his beer.
He was acting like it was just another night, but I knew better.
He was waiting.
He was waiting for me.
I held up a hand to the others. “Give me a minute.”
Memphis scowled but didn’t argue. Ghost and Creed just folded their arms and watched with a protective stance. I walked over, and Nikolai’s eyes locked on mine as I pulled out the chair and sat down without a word. I let the silence sit between us for a beat before I finally spoke.
“Alright, you got my attention. Now, why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”