Preacher

by Blake, Joanna

  But like I said, there were still scars.

  Every club had a story like that. Or twelve. I had made a couple of stops on my ride up here to let everyone know I was going to be MIA for a bit. If they needed me, I’d be there. Just like always. But they might have to come to me.

  I had no choice. I had to keep this place running for my buddy.

  I rounded the corner to the front of the church and froze.

  The doors were covered in graffiti. Gang tags, from the look of it. I wondered why Paul hadn’t just painted over it.

  But when I got closer, I knew why.

  It wasn’t graffiti. It was art. Paul had clearly given some pretty talented kids the okay to spray paint the door. It wasn’t about gangs, though. Or money. Or even a political statement.

  It was about God.

  It was about brotherhood.

  I took another swig from the bottle, admiring the images. A dove coasted above some colored stripes. I blinked, realizing it was the Pride flag. There was a peace sign. A cross. A rose. A lotus flower for Buddhism. A Star of David. A crescent moon and star that were often used to symbolize Islam.

  There were artfully drawn faces of every color.

  Well, damn. It was fucking beautiful.

  “You should see the one inside.”

  I turned to see a young kid, pants hanging low and staring at me.

  “You’re Preacher, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Marcus. I live across the street.”

  I resisted the unfamiliar urge to ask the kid why he was outside at this hour. Then I glanced across the street and saw the town of ramshackle houses. Most were dark, though a few looked like there was a party going on inside. I grunted.

  “Nice to meet you, Marcus.”

  “Reverend Paul said you were cool.”

  “He did, did he?”

  Marcus just smiled.

  “See you tomorrow, Preacher.”

  I nodded and watched as he walked across the street, sat on the porch, and ignored whatever was going on inside his house. From the sound of it, people were arguing. It was hard to tell over the loud music.

  “Well, fuck.”

  Just like that, I knew. I knew I was not going to just go through the motions. I was going to put the work in here. I was going to fucking help that kid.

  “Goddamn it.” I stubbed out my cigar and then looked at the cross at the pinnacle of the church. “Yeah, I said it. What are you going to do about it?”

  God didn’t answer. He never did.

  I shook my head and started back around toward the courtyard. As I passed the front gate, I glanced up to see the lit-up display with upcoming events and information about services.

  It wasn’t the ungodly hour that the place opened on weekdays that caught my attention.

  It was a girl.

  Time seemed to stop as I leaned in, staring at the glass. I wanted to go back, get the key from Paul, and take that photo out. I wanted to take it with me.

  Huge eyes peered out of a smiling face. It was a group shot, but it was hard to see anybody else. She was surrounded by kids in the photo. I recognized Marcus, practically hanging off her arm.

  I didn’t blame him.

  The girl was simply the most beautiful I had ever seen.

  Of course, it was just a photo. She couldn’t possibly be that radiant. The woman’s face exuded pure joy. With dark shiny hair, tawny skin, and a classically beautiful face, she was stunning. But it was more than that. Just by looking at her, I could tell that she was something I would never be.

  She’s good.

  “Community outreach,” I said to myself. There was nothing else. Just a list of activities. No name.

  Nothing else to tide me over before I could ask Paul who the girl was.

  I scowled then. A beauty like that would never look twice at an old bastard like me. Didn’t matter, anyway. I would just have to look but not touch. I was here for Paul, not to make a damned fool out of myself over a girl.

  But when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t get her face out of my mind.

  Chapter Two

  Cynthia

  “Okay, you guys, you ready?”

  A sea of shining faces nodded almost in unison. ‘The Crew’ was ready. They’d been practicing for weeks.

  I gave them an encouraging smile and told Amber to press play on the boombox just as the door to the parsonage opened.

  Reverend Paul stood there with a beaming smile on his face. He wasn’t looking good. I was trying not to ruin the moment by bursting into tears when he stepped into the doorway.

  A massive, craggily handsome guy stood behind Paul. He was rough around the edges, wearing worn-in denim and leather, with a salt and pepper beard and thick, wavy hair that was more salt than pepper.

  I never, not once in my life, judged anyone by the way they looked.

  Until now.

  This man . . . he looked dangerous. He looked like sex on wheels. Like the bad guy in a movie you secretly hoped would get away. He looked like he was about to mug Reverend Paul. That was honestly what I thought until I saw them exchange a friendly glance.

  Oh, no . . . this couldn’t be . . .

  Please, Lord, tell me this isn’t Preacher.

  The man caught my gaze ad held it. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. His eyes were blue. No, they were . . . blue-gray. I got lost in those eyes. They shone brightly against his tanned skin. Then he smiled, and I almost stepped off the pathway to land in the bushes.

  That smile wasn’t particularly friendly. It was something else entirely.

  It was a smile that said ‘I like what I see.’ I groaned inwardly. I had learned my lesson the hard way in high school. I’d fallen for a bad boy. Nearly lost my virginity to him. But he’d been a player. I’d only found out at the last possible minute that he’d been tired of waiting for me to sleep with him. So he’d slept with my best friend instead.

  I still cringed when I thought about it all these years later.

  I’d sworn off men after that. Especially bad boys. Of any age.

  Kids were dancing wildly, moving through the routine we’d worked on, shouting out to the Reverend and fitting his name into the lyrics. Through it all, Preacher kept his eyes on me. I couldn’t have looked away if I tried. Marcus did a back handspring, and finally, the spell was broken as his body twisted in the air to do a layup in the air between us.

  I exhaled, stepping to the side so I wasn’t facing the man. My heart was thudding as if I were the one doing back handsprings! But I pinned on my best, most serene, most ‘I know what I am doing’ smile. Every social worker worth her salt had a smile like that. I wasn’t officially licensed yet, but I was getting really close.

  I would get my degree and I would help turn the community around.

  There were good people here. Too many to abandon. I had to stay and fight for them.

  I applauded with everyone from church who had gathered to watch the performance in the courtyard. I smiled tightly, relaxing my face when Abigail came up to give me a hug. Her braids swung as she did an impromptu spin and struck a pose for me. I laughed, offering her a high-five.

  I felt eyes on me and looked up. But if the new Reverend had been staring, he wasn’t now. He was talking with Paul and Marcus. I noticed a few of the shyer kids were standing there, waiting for him to notice them. He did, and I sighed in relief. My kids were fragile. They came here for the attention they rarely got at school. Or at home, either, for the most part.

  The kids weren’t intimidated by him, clearly. So why was I?

  “Preacher is daddy AF,” a gravelly voice said from beside me. I shushed Clarice. Her painted eyebrows shot up but her eyes were twinkling. “What? He is.”

  “You are terrible.”

  She tossed her hair and winked at me.

  “But you love me, anyway.”

  “I do,” I said with a sigh. I felt eyes on me again and looked up. This time, he was looking at me. I felt it in my gut, like an
electric shock. It was weird because when you were standing next to the six-foot three-inch Clarice, who was always dressed to the nines, nobody really looked at anyone else.

  Patty clapped her hands and told the kids it was time for youth choir and then lunch. I waved them off, accepting hugs as they went. I wondered if any of them realized they might never see Reverend Paul again. My eyes filled up for the hundredth time at the thought.

  Not everyone on staff knew how serious his cancer was. But the more sensitive people around the neighborhood definitely picked it up. He had grown frailer over the past few months. The kids noticed. I knew they did.

  Reverend Paul hadn’t formally introduced his replacement to the staff, paid or volunteer. Temporary replacement, I reminded myself. I stepped closer when the reverend waved me over.

  “Cynthia! I’m about to introduce John to the staff. I’d like you to be the first.”

  I nodded and forced myself to face the dominant male towering above me. The man sucked all the air out of the courtyard. He filled every atom. He attracted every ray of light. He had his own gravity, for goodness’ sake.

  The trouble was, I was pretty sure he was more of a black hole than a star.

  I looked up at his face to find him intently watching me. His eyes crinkled as if he was smiling. But he wasn’t smiling. He was just taking me in.

  I looked down and realized he was holding out his hand. His giant, big, tan, callused-looking hand. I reached forward without thinking and felt my hand enveloped in his. A shock ran through me, and I stared at him for a moment, belatedly pulling my hand away. It tingled for a full minute afterward.

  “Cynthia. I like that,” he rumbled in an incredibly deep voice with a hint of a twang. He sounded like he should be in an old Western. Hell, with his long hair, striking features, and all those muscles, he looked like he should be in one too.

  I bristled a bit at the familiar way he was looking at me. Like he knew me. Like he ate girls like me for breakfast. I lifted my chin and gave him my sternest Sunday School Teacher look. I did, in fact, teach Sunday school, among the many, many other things I did.

  “It’s nice to meet you, John.”

  His craggy face broke into a smile. A smile that transformed his countenance like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. He went from scary but sexy to almost . . . beautiful . . . in a heartbeat.

  Not almost. He was. He was beautiful.

  Wow, Cynth, wax poetic much?

  Despite my misgivings, I had a sinking feeling that Preacher was going to be more than an unwanted guest. He wasn’t just handsome. The man was legitimately going to cause a stampede of women every time he stepped outside. I groaned inwardly, recognizing the unwelcome stirrings of an out of control crush. I was not going to be another goofy girl, following him around like a puppy dog.

  “Call me Preacher.”

  Chapter Three

  Preacher

  I stood next to Paul at the pulpit, watching the church staff and volunteers walk in. They were a varied bunch, all different ages, ethnicities, sizes, and shapes. There was even an extremely tall woman with the most ornate makeup and hairstyle I had ever seen. She caught my eye and waved flirtatiously. I cracked the barest semblance of a smile.

  They might look different, but they all looked at me with a lost expression. I could see the hope in their eyes and it was like a punch to the gut. Paul was right. These people needed me.

  All except one.

  The unbelievably gorgeous girl I’d met outside was glaring at me, distrust and suspicion clearly written all over her beautiful face. She really was flawless. Tawny skin, huge eyes, almost too-pretty features, and a figure that . . . well, let’s just say my recent lack of interest in the fairer sex had just returned with a vengeance.

  Cynthia… what a delicious name she had. Cynthia…

  Cynthia was making me think crazy thoughts. I didn’t just want to screw her, though I wanted to do plenty of that. I wanted to fucking look at her all day. I wanted to listen to her talk. I wanted to rub her feet and cook her dinner.

  It didn’t escape me that this was another one of God’s practical jokes. The first woman I’d felt an actual interest in beyond a quick tumble was looking at me like I was a turd stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Ha-ha, Big Guy. Ha-ha.

  She’s right to be suspicious of you, you old dog. Only teenage boys and old perverts get hard-ons in church.

  I adjusted myself and forced myself to look away before my semi became a Goddamn flagpole.

  It was better than she didn’t like me. It would keep me out of trouble. Keep me from tossing her onto the nearest piece of furniture and going to town on that ridiculously juicy ass.

  Focus, you old dog.

  The other faces in the crowd were waiting patiently as the last few folks filtered in, reminding me that this was not a small operation. It wasn’t just Marcus and the kids and the community. The church had a big staff. These people needed me. And I’d made a promise.

  What was supposed to be a favor was turning into something else. I wasn’t going to be able to shuffle back to my old life in two weeks. I glanced at my friend, noticing how thin he looked in his robe.

  “You can do this sitting down, you jackass,” I muttered for his ears only. He gave me a quick smile and shook his head.

  “This might be my last time.”

  My gut tightened up, and I reached out a hand, laying it on his shoulder. He reached up and put his hand over mine, giving it a squeeze.

  “Most of you know that I’m leaving. I think most of you know why.”

  Nobody spoke. It was clear from the way they looked at him that they adored him. I couldn’t imagine it. Yeah, my club and others I visited needed me. Liked me. Trusted me. But adoration?

  Hell, the last wedding I performed ended with my getting shoved right into the lake.

  Right after you kissed the pretty bride, I reminded myself with a satisfied smirk. I did love fucking with the grooms at weddings. It had been particularly satisfying to push Mac over the edge. The guy was so quiet, watching him pop his fuse was hysterical. My gaze slid to the pretty girl sitting out there, knowing it would have been a different ball of wax with her. I would have sincerely tried to stop the wedding if she had been the bride.

  And I wouldn’t have stopped with one measly kiss.

  I would have thrown her over my shoulder and run for the hills.

  ”A few of you have already met my replacement. He goes by the name of Preacher. It might surprise you that we are the same age. I feel like an old man next to my friend.”

  I had been watching the crowd, but I turned to look at him. Goddamn it. He was not supposed to die first. I was. Shot by some girl’s old man after I stuck my dick where it didn’t belong. Or riding too fast. Or even in a drunken brawl. I didn’t want this for him. I hated it.

  I told God for the hundredth time to take me instead of Paul. I would happily trade places. I knew it would make the world a better place.

  “There is no better man. He may be a little unorthodox, but so are we. I know you will welcome him with open arms.”

  I couldn’t help but drag my eyes over to Cynthia. She was looking right at me. Our gazes collided and locked. I couldn’t help the sensual smile that curved my lips at the thought of her welcoming me with open arms.

  Her brows snapped together as if she knew what I was thinking.

  Oh, yeah, working with her is going to be hell. But in a good getting your nuts twisted by a beautiful woman kind of way.

  I smiled a little wider. I could hardly wait.

  Chapter Four

  Cynthia

  “Come back to us soon,” I whispered as I hugged the Reverend goodbye. He patted my back.

  “It’s in God’s hands now.” He pulled back at the sound of my sniffle. “Don’t worry. Preacher is tougher than he looks.”

  “Tougher?” I asked incredulously. The man looked like he was made of leather and steel. He couldn’t have looked any tougher if he w
ere wearing combat armor.

  I didn’t even let myself think about how oddly appealing I found it, either.

  “He’s up to the task. Just help him. He needs your guidance.” He leaned in as if he were imparting a great secret. “He was a bit disorganized when we were in the seminary together. I fear it has only gotten worse.”

  “You want me to babysit him?”

  Reverend Paul laughed and nodded.

  “It would bring me great comfort to know you were looking after him.”

  I groaned inwardly but smiled and nodded. How could I say no? And it’s not like I wanted the place to fall down around our ears. There was too much riding on the church. We’d made great strides with the community. They needed us.

  “I promise.”

  His whole face lit up in a smile so beatific, it almost looked as if he were well again. Then he stepped back and I saw the way his clothes hung off his body. The faint tint of yellow in his skin. I knew. Deep down, I knew that there was a chance I would never see him again.

  A very good chance.

  Tears filled my eyes as I watched him give his final farewells to the staff. I watched as he gripped Preacher’s arm and said something to him. Preacher’s cold blue eyes snapped to my face, then back to Reverend Paul’s. I felt that look like a knife, but it didn’t hurt.

  No, it felt hot instead. Penetrating but not invasive. It was like he saw me. Every damn thing about me.

  I stepped back as they embraced like brothers. I told myself a man who loved the Reverend couldn’t be that bad. The tears started flowing as Paul got into the waiting taxi. Clarice put her arm around me as the taxi pulled into the quiet street and turned the corner. I looked up at her and saw that her mascara and eye makeup were running streaks of blue, green, and black down her face.