There was even a ceiling fan at the pinnacle of the ceiling, even though Preacher had refused air conditioning. But with this refreshing breeze, I decided he had made the right decision. I also decided that we were never, ever coming here in August.
A small semicircle of people sat on the sand behind me as I walked forward to meet Preacher and Paul. We were having a second ceremony. And somehow, this seemed even more special. Quiet.
And so uniquely him.
My groom stood there, looking handsome in cotton pants and a shirt. My dress was something we’d grabbed in the village. It was simple white cotton, probably made for tourists with its off the shoulder elastic and maxi length. But the fabric was clean and soft and the embroidery was pretty.
And it felt right.
“Thank you all for being here,” he said in English and then repeated his words in Spanish. “Two of the most important people in my life are getting married, are married, and I just had to be a part of it. Bless you both for humoring an old man’s wishes.”
“Who are you calling old?” Preacher growled.
“Myself, of course.”
“We are the same age, you jackal.”
Reverend Paul cackled and shook his head.
“Preacher, as you all know, is one of a kind. He has given me more than a few white hairs over the many, many years we have known each other. He is not ever what people expect, and I love him for it. I consider him my brother and the best man I know.”
I giggled at the way he was teasing Preacher. He might bristle and moan, but he was smiling through it all. It was illuminating to see them together this way.
There was a lot of love here. That much was certain.
“Now, Cynthia.” He looked at me and took my hand. “You have been more important to me than you could ever know. I mean that. When you and mother first came to the church, I saw your earnest little face and knew that you were special. The way you devoted yourself to the church only proved it time and time again. You . . .” He squeezed my hand as his eyes teared up. “You’ve been like a daughter to me. I love you very, very much.”
He took Preacher’s hand too.
“Now, I never, ever expected you two to fall in love, but I did expect you to challenge and teach each other. But once I saw you together, I knew this was right. You balance each other. You are two of the best people I have ever known, and I am so happy to have played a small part in bringing you together. I wish you many, many years of happiness and love.” He pressed our hands together so that we faced each other. “Now, for the official part, do you take this woman to be your bride? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Preacher called out.
“And you my dear, do you take this man, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do,” I said through the tears that were starting to fall.
“Then I pronounce you man and wife.”
He smiled wide at us both.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Preacher pulled me close, then made a big show of looking over his shoulder. He sighed in relief. And then he was kissing me. The wind picked up, blowing our hair around as our mouths molded to each other. It was wild and free, just like my husband.
“Now, let’s party,” Paul said as the guests cheered. I was introduced to them one by one, mostly the local fishermen and their wives, as well as some people who owned businesses in town.
I noticed the older woman who owned the bar in town wiping her eyes repeatedly. When we were introduced, she hugged me tightly and said, “Such a shame. Such a good customer.”
I was laughing as Preacher dragged me away to sit on a folded beach chair and eat food cooked over the fire.
It was the best night of my life. A long life together, God willing. A life filled with children and friends and family.
We had three, I realized. Not our own tiny family that we were just starting to build. His club, and the other clubs he was an honorary member of, the community surrounding the church back in Portland, and these good people here.
We were more than blessed.
We were loved.
Nine months later
Preacher
“Stop wiggling,” I whispered to the bundle in my arms. “I need to focus.”
Rose ignored me, her little face scrunching up to prepare what promised to be an epic wail. My angel had big lungs, I had learned in the past few perfect, beautiful, amazing weeks. I was supposed to be speaking, but I needed my little fairy to settle.
“I’ll take her, Preacher,” Marcus said. I handed the baby over and patted his shoulder.
“Thank you, Son.” He smiled at me, looking sharp in his brand-new suit. “You ready for this?”
He nodded.
My wife took her place with us at the front of the church and waited.
“Thank you for coming. Today marks a momentous occasion. I was lucky enough to become a father once, just a few weeks ago. But today, I become a father again.”
I smiled at Marcus.
“Actually, you’ve been my son for a long time, but the paperwork just came through this week. Now it’s legal, and today, we are acknowledging and celebrating that we are, once and for all, a family. Son, we will be there for you for the rest of our lives. Anything you need, any worry, any fear, any joy or sorrow, is ours to share. We are honored to call you our son and big brother to little Rose.”
I pressed a kiss to his forehead. Cynthia pulled him close, making the baby squeak in protest. I laughed and hugged all three of them.
The church was packed, though not quite as packed as our wedding. There was still a respectable showing of leather. In fact, a good number of the guys came down here to visit and to help out with our neighborhood restoration program.
It was going well. It was all going very, very well.
Even Marcus’s aunt had gone to rehab. Her son was still running wild, but it was a start. We hadn’t given up on him, either.
The boy didn’t exactly apologize, but he never said another bad word to Clarice or to me.
Hell, the kid nearly melted into the sidewalk whenever I walked by.
And Marcus had confided in me that he’d thrown away his gun.
Yes, things were looking up around here.
The garden was blooming, and we always had volunteers in there planting and pruning, and we were even working on three different complementary murals for each of the brick walls. That is where we headed as the church emptied out to celebrate.
Aunt Julia was there, the dance crew, all the garden helpers, and some I didn’t recognize. In fact, every week, there were new faces in the pews. The church was blossoming and the community with it.
Although, I couldn’t really have said which came first. Was it the chicken or the egg? The same could be said for other things. Had I finally been ready for a real love? Or had Cynthia been the catalyst for such dramatic change? I was pretty sure it was just her.
“What do you think, pretty girl?” I asked the newborn in my arms. “Did Mommy fix the big, bad biker? Or was the biker ready for Mommy?”
“Daddy fixed Mommy,” my wife said, sliding up against me and leaning her head on my shoulder. She was tired. We both were. Even Marcus had been getting up to help with the baby at all hours, no matter how many times we told him he needed his sleep. “He taught her how to live.”
I pressed a kiss into her hair and smiled. We’d taught each other. We were still learning every day. And now we had two children to help us grow even more.
A boom box played old Motown hits as people ate and laughed and smiled. Marcus was surrounded by friends. So were we.
We weren’t going to be able to stay out long, I knew. The baby would need to be put down for a nap or changed or fed. But for now, nobody was pooping their pants or falling asleep or crying. Not even me.
It was a very, very good day.
Sneak Peak of Tony Margarell’s Sto
ry
Anthony
“Come in, come in,” my father’s voice boomed jovially. He sounded a little too fucking happy, if you asked me. He must have started drinking early tonight, I thought as I took a seat in one of the armchairs facing my father’s mahogany desk. My older brother Vincent was already there.
What the fuck have these two been talking about, anyway?
I grunted in greeting. My brother just looked at me with his cold blue eyes. He was scary as fuck. With his dark hair and those piercing eyes, I’d always kind of though he looked like a grown up version of Damien, the kid from the Omen.
The scary-as-fuck 70’s version, not the new crap.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My brother might be arrogant, and cold when it came to business and strangers, but we were tight. He barely spoke to strangers, but when we met up for drinks or coffee, he was practically chatty. We were more than brothers. We were best friends.
That’s why I was surprised to get called in for a meeting I knew nothing about. Usually, Vincent would have given me a head’s up when shit was coming down the turnpike. And shit was almost always coming downhill.
My father never seemed to be happy with anything I did. Though, to be fair, I was not the golden boy my brother was. Where he excelled at school and sports, I excelled at illegal and illicit activities.
Mostly drinking, gambling and fucking. Daddy definitely did not approve. He thought a man should have control in everything he did. My brother had learned that lesson early, and lived by the same credo.
But not me. I was frequently out of control, living by the seat of my pants. And causing trouble was my specialty.
So, it was time for another one of dad’s ‘talks.’ Being scolded by your father as an adult was slightly humiliating. When it was Francisco Margorelli doing it, it was a little more… intense.
My father was not above beating my ass with his belt, or worse.
Last time, it had been my womanizing. I’d barely been out of high school when I fucked the wife of a rival mob boss. That had nearly started a war. My father had had to make financial amends, something he had not let me forget for years.
Then a few weeks later, I’d fucked his daughter, just because I could.
But nobody knew about that, I thought with a smirk.
I’d learned my lesson though. I didn’t shit where I ate. I might own a couple of night spots with my brother but I didn’t pick up women there. Or at any of our businesses. I went elsewhere to pick up my nightly screw.
And I never, ever left the club alone.
Half the time, I didn’t just bring home one girl. I brought home two. A couple of times, it had been three.
And one memorable night, I’d had four young ladies in my bed. I smiled at the memory. They’d been very willing and eager to experiment that night. I had a feeling they had all left much closer friends than they’d been before.
My dick had been sore for a week.
But that was just smoke and mirrors. All I needed was regular sex, no strings attached. That’s why I never saw anyone more than a handful of times. I was pretty much a professional when it came to ghosting.
Having multiple bodyguards outside the mansion at all times definitely helped. I had a place downtown near the clubs for the purpose of sex and sleeping it off. But if I wasn’t hooking up I mostly stayed here, in the family home. Calling it a home was an understatement. It was a stone mansion, built right in the middle of the city. It had been built by an oil magnate and belonged to a mayor once, before the family had taken it over.
Rumor had it, our great-grandfather had been given the deed to settle an outstanding debt. Either way, it was in our family for over a hundred years, and likely to be for a hundred more.
If either of us actually deigned to procreate, that is.
“It’s time I stepped aside.”
I sat up a little straighter, the last cobwebs of my hangover disappearing in an instant. My father retiring? In the mob, you usually retired when someone did it for you, with a bullet and cement shoes. Things were a little less violent then they’d been twenty years ago, but not by much.
Bloodshed was simply the cost of doing business. Our kind of business, anyway. I wasn’t squeamish about it. Neither was Vince. But we tried not to kill anybody needlessly.
Our father on the other hand, had always seemed to enjoy hurting people. Even his own, if they so much as stepped out of line.
Even his sons.
Nothing permanent when it came to us, but I did have some scars from when he used the other end of his belt buckle. More than a few.
It had never stopped me from misbehaving.
“You will always be an integral part of the family, Tony. But I want Vincent to take charge. I’ll always be here to advise you, but I’ll be down in Boca with Candy.”
Ah. So that was it. His hot new piece was down in Florida. Southern California wasn’t hot enough for her to walk around in bikinis all day apparently.
I highly doubted he would really retire-retire. The old man was too power hungry. Something my older brother had in common with him, though to a less degree. Something I did not.
“I will support Vince in whatever he does,” I said easily. And I would. I fucking loved my big brother and I trusted his judgement. He was a lot fucking smarter than pops, truth be told.
Vincent was pretty much smarter than anybody.
Me? I was intelligent, and street smart, but I made too many dumbass mistakes to be the genius they said I was. We’d both had aptitude tests with the private tutors brought in for us. We were both high enough to join Mensa.
The difference was, my brother used his brains. He made investments. Legit ones. He was moving the family further and further from illegal activities, though not entirely.
I used my smarts to read thick books and convince women to do what I wanted. Not sex. They didn’t need convincing for that.
I used my brains to talk them into leaving afterwards. And never coming back.
“You’ll always be my second, Antonio,” Vincent rumbled in his deep voice. I nodded. I’d expected nothing less. I’d never expected, or wanted, to take over for pops.
I shook my father’s hand and my brother and I stood to leave. His hand landed on my shoulder as we entered the long hallway that led to the entry foyer, which was bigger than some people’s houses with a marble floor, columns, and a domed ceiling. It wasn’t tacky though. It was stunning.
The gold furniture Candy had started adding here and there was hideous, however.
“You sure you are okay with this?”
I nodded.
“You are first born. I never wanted to run the family.” I slapped his back and pulled him in for a hug. “Better you than me, brother.”
Vince hugged me back, hard.
“I need you, little brother. I don’t want any of dad’s old cronies to think they can advise me. I want you to do that. You’re smarter than all of them put together, if you would only fucking apply yourself.
I snorted. It was an old story. But I wasn’t going to stand for it if Vince was going to take over for dad in the ‘let’s whip Tony into shape’ department. I was immune to criticism.
Praise on the other hand…
“We need to present a united front or some of these goombas could get ideas. You are my backbone. You need to stay strong.”
I stared at him. He was saying that he wanted me to lead with him. He needed me to step it up.
Well, fuck. It looked like my wild partying days were over. Or at least, I’d have to be more circumspect. Not lose control. No more drinking till 4 am.
Not that I was giving up my womanizing, but maybe it was time to slow down anyway. I’d been getting kind of bored with the endless stream of easy women. Not that I wanted to settle down yet, if ever.
If Vince had yelled at me like pops I would have ignored him and gone on my merry way. But my big, invincible brother telling me he needed my help? That was a whole other story.
I nodded.
“I hear you. I’ll clean it up.”
He clasped my head and brought me in close.
“Sometimes I think you are the better man, little brother.” He let go of my head and stepped back. “You just don’t know it yet.”
About the Author
Thank you for reading Preacher! If you enjoyed this book please let me know by reviewing on Amazon and on Goodreads! You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, or join my Facebook readers group Blake’s Bombshells!
You can email me at: [email protected]
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Coming soon:
The Margarelli Brothers Duet
Devils Riders Book 8
The Untouchables Book 6
The rewritten and expanded stories of Chandler, Trent and Joss (my bad boy marines series)
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Other works by Joanna Blake:
Stud Farm (The Complete Delancey Brothers Collection)
Cuffed (The Untouchables MC Book 1)
Mean Machine (The Untouchables MC Book 2)
Rough Stuff (The Untouchables MC Book 3)
Hard Road (The Untouchables MC Book 4)
Wanted By The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 1)
Ride With The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 2)
Trust The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 3)
Dance With The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 4)
Marked By The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 5)
Luck Of The Devil (Devil’s Riders MC Book 6)
Preacher Page 20