7. Preacher
7
PREACHER
“W hat do we know about Larry Branson’s kid?”
“Not much. Just that he came back from the military a few years back and was running his family’s bar up until about six months ago. The place shut down and sold, just like several others in the area. Next thing you know, the whole strip was bulldozed to the ground.”
“Damn. That’s rough.”
“Even rougher that his wife left him a month or so later, and she took the kids with her.”
“Yeah, that had to be a tough pill to swallow.” I took a drink of my coffee before asking, “So, was it really about the taxes, or did he get swindled?”
The Branson’s bar used to be right where the new casino was sitting. There was a cigarette shop and a couple of restaurants on the same strip, and his house was just down the block. It wasn’t much. None of them were, but those places meant something to them, and now, they were gone.
Shep knew exactly where I was coming from when he answered, “Pretty much a mix of the two. He was more than a month behind. It was more like two years, and he was up to his eyeballs in debt and had no way to pay them. The Volkovs used the opportunity to swoop in and grab the place for dirt cheap.”
“I was afraid of that.”
I thought back to the night before, and I could still remember the look of frustration and desperation in that boy’s eyes.
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 right opportunity , 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 that stuck with 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.”
“Hmm.” This woman was full of surprises. “So, you think she’s clean?”
“She’s careful.” His eyes locked on mine. “And careful people usually got a reason to be.”
“So, what are you thinking?” Seven interjected. “Are we going to partner with these guys or what?”
“I have questions that need to be answered before I can make a final call. We still don’t know what they want from us or what we’ll get in return.”
“Sounded like they want us to clean up their fucking mess, and after the glimpse we got last night, I’m thinking that’s gonna be a hell of an undertaking.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We won’t know until we get some answers.”
Seven leaned forward as he asked, “When are you going to talk to him again?”
“I’ll set something up for later today or first thing tomorrow.”
“We going to play it like we did the last meet?”
I looked over to Creed as I answered, “No need in the whole brigade. We’ll be fine with just Grim and Seven.”
“Sounds good to me. Just let me know when and where.”
I nodded, then pushed my chair back from the table. “No sense keeping you boys any longer. We’ll talk more when we actually know what we’re dealing with.”
They each nodded, and chairs scraped against the floor as the guys started to disperse. Low chuckles and familiar banter filled the air as they made their way toward the door. Memphis was about to walk out the door when I called, “Hey, Memphis.”
“Yeah?”
I motioned for him to come over, and as he started to make his way over, I took the moment to take him in. My boy. My son. My legacy. He had grown into a hell of a man. He was someone I would not only trust with my life but also with my club, and I was damn proud to call him mine.
Our journey had not been an easy one. Not by a long shot.
It was hard to picture the boy he used to be—the one I used to pick up and drop off every other weekend. Week after week, I tried to pretend that I didn’t know that all the back and forth was tearing him in two. I knew it. Kay knew it, too. But we were too damn stubborn to do anything about it.
He was just a kid, caught between two people who once loved each other but couldn’t make it work. I told myself we were doing the best we could, but deep down, I knew we could’ve done better, and we should’ve.
I could still remember the way he’d cling to Kay’s side when I came to get him. His little hands would grip hers like he wasn’t sure he should let go. We’d spend a great weekend together, and when I took him back, he’d watch me like he was afraid I wouldn’t come back.
I should’ve known what I was doing to him.
I should’ve done better—for him and his mother.
Hell, the guilt of it all never really left me. Probably never would.
But he made out alright. He came to live with me when he turned sixteen and started prospecting as soon as he turned twenty-one. He was working his way up the ranks when the wreck happened.
That phone call nearly took me to my knees.
There’s nothing worse than hearing that your kid has been in an accident. But hearing that my son had laid out on the road, broken and bruised, for the better part of the night gutted me. It was tough seeing him laid up in that hospital bed. It was even worse seeing his spirit hanging by a thread. But he pulled through. He fought like hell to get back on his feet, and he had Antonia by his side every step of the way.
I wasn’t blind to what she did for him.
None of us were.
We all knew she was his anchor when the weight of it all threatened to pull him under. And now, she was more than just the woman who helped him heal. She was his ol’ lady.
Once he made his way over, I gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder and asked, “You good?”
“Can’t complain.” He gave me one of his looks as he asked, “What about you? Have you recovered from last night?”
“Ah, wasn’t nothing to recover from.”
“You say that like I don’t know that dude was a loose cannon.” He shook his head. “You’re lucky you didn’t get your ass shot getting in the middle of that bullshit.”
“It wasn’t all that bad. The guy just needed to blow off some steam. You’d be the same way if you’d just lost everything that meant something to ya.”
“If you say so.” He crossed his arms with a sigh of disapproval. “You’re gonna have to start being more careful.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Pop. I already lost Beck. Don’t wanna lose my ol’ man, too.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“So, you’re doing better with things?”
“I’m good.” I hadn’t told him about the dreams or the sinking pit in my stomach, and I had no plans to. He’d struggled with the loss of his brother, and I had no intention of adding to his pain. “What about you?”
“Taking things one day at a time.”
Ready to change the subject, I asked, “What about Antonia? How’s she making it?”
“She’s good.” His mouth curled slightly. “Real good.”
“Is that right?” His grin widened in a way I hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Something going on?”
“Maybe.”
“Memphis.”
“What?” He gave me a light-hearted shrug. “I told ya. She’s good.”
“Um-hmm.” I cocked my brow. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you aren’t telling me?”
“Cause there’s something I’m not telling ya,” he admitted. “And I’m not gonna, or Antonia would have my ass.”
“I see.”
I didn’t press. I didn’t have to.
It was written all over his face. My son was going to be a father. I might’ve read it wrong, but I felt confident in my guess. The thought of him having a kid made my chest tighten with pride. I gave him a slow nod and patted his shoulder, letting my hand rest there for just a second longer than usual. “Just let me know when you can.”
Memphis nodded, his eyes flashing with something unspoken. “You’ll be the first to know.”
He gave me a wink, then turned and walked out, leaving me feeling a little lighter than I had only minutes prior.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a feeling that would last for long.
I started for the door, and my burner started to ring. I took it out of my pocket, and when I looked down at the screen, I groaned at the sight of Sergei’s name. I let out a long breath before answering, “You’ve got Preacher.”
“We need to talk.”
“We certainly do.”
“Can you meet me at the house in an hour?”
“Yeah. I can make that work.”
“Appreciate it. See you then.”
As soon as I ended the call, I went out front to track down Creed. He and Seven were talking to Goose, and as usual, he had them chuckling over something stupid he’d said. Their laughter fell silent, and their attention was all on me as soon as I walked up. “Just got a call from Sergei. He wants to meet.”
“When?”
“Within the next hour.”
“I’ll go with you,” Creed offered.
“No, Seven can go. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“You got it.”
Creed sounded concerned as he asked, “You sure going over there with just one cover is a good idea?”
“Sergei might be an asshole, but he isn’t stupid. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but we’ll be sitting on go, just in case.”
“Good deal. I’ll call if we run into any trouble.”
Seven and I headed out to the parking lot and got on our bikes. It was a nice day. I saw no reason to let it go to waste, so we took the long route to Sergei’s house. It was a good call. The sun was shining bright, and it gave me some much-needed therapy. I didn’t have to think. I could just enjoy the open road and the steady growl of my engine. The weight of everything started to ease with every mile.
Seven rode right there beside me. He was solid as ever. My brother. My SOA. We’d been through hell and back together, but we were still here and going strong. No matter what lay ahead, we’d handle it. Just like we always did.
When we rolled up to the house, the guard let us through the gate, and we drove down to the house. I parked and was taking off my helmet when my attention was drawn over to the barn where Tabitha was out at the front gate. She was brushing one of the horses, and the wind was blowing through her long hair.
But she didn’t pay it any mind.
Her focus was on the horse and nothing else.
Damn.
This woman was something else. Even in a pair of jeans and a simple gray T-shirt, she was all class, but not the kind that felt like she was trying. This was effortless. This was just who she was, and damned if I wasn’t intrigued by it. Unable to stop myself, I got off my bike and glanced over at Seven. “Give me a minute.”
He gave me a knowing look but didn’t say a word. He just gave me a nod and stayed by the bikes. I made my way toward her, and it wasn’t until I got closer that she finally looked up. Her hazel eyes locked on mine, and just like the night before, I felt something stir in me that I no longer thought existed.
I stepped up to the fence as I told her, “Afternoon.”
“Afternoon.” A small smile slipped across her full lips before she went back to brushing the horse. “How are you?”
“I was just about to ask you the same.”
“I’m good.” Her gaze lingered for a moment. “Thanks again for your help last night. That could’ve turned into a real mess.”
The way she said it, so low and genuine, made my chest tighten. “Just did what needed doing.”
“Appreciated all the same.” She studied me, those sharp eyes of hers seeing more than I was probably comfortable with. “I love my boys. All three of them. They’re good men, and I probably shouldn’t say this, especially to you, but Sergei can be a bit bullheaded at times.”
“Not exactly a secret.” I chuckled. “I knew that the second I met him, but he’s no more bullheaded than I am.”
“I don’t know. I don’t see you as the bullheaded type.” Her eyes quickly skirted over me, and there was no denying that there was something going on between us, something that lingered just beneath the surface. “You seem more like the type who picks his battles.”
“That so?”
“Just my take.” She ran the brush down the horse’s side once again. “You strike me as a man who knows when to push and when to step back. Bullheaded men don’t have that kind of patience.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t waste time on fights that didn’t matter.
But when I knew something deep in my gut, I had no problem standing my ground. Hell, I’d dig my heels in and never let up.
And right now, with the way her eyes lingered on mine and the warm churn in my chest, I had a feeling she was going to be one of those things. I should’ve walked away.
Sergei was waiting.
Seven was, too.
But bad idea or not, I couldn’t and wouldn’t pull myself away.