Preacher

by Madison Faye

  “And if I did?”

  “If you did, then the sugar pills painted black that I sell guys who can’t get it up actually cure erectile dysfunction.”

  I make a face. “Do they?”

  He grunts. “They’ll sweeten your coffee.”

  I sigh. “Well, she was.”

  “Hey, at least you got that. Look, don’t sweat too hard. Where are you, county?”

  “Just the town jail.”

  He chuckles. “God, I love the south. They’re going to keep you there at least a few days. Small towns don’t have the manpower to start pushing paperwork to get you into county or anything. I mean, unless you really pissed them off.”

  “The guy who’s plans I fucked up pretty much told them everything. Motherfucker even called Lockton.”

  Kane winces. “Fuck, seriously? What a fucking boner.”

  “And Worthington.”

  Kane groans deeply. “Fuck. Okay, you might have a little less than a couple days. But look man, I’m going to make some calls. You okay in the meantime? I mean anyone in there going to try and get the jump on you?”

  I make a face. “Well, I’m locked up with Canaan’s hardest criminals. There’s a teenager in here who got busted lifting candy from the corner store, and an old geezer who brandished a Civil War pistol at the cops when they told him to stop letting his chickens graze in the street. Shit’s pretty tense in here, I might have to start selling my ass for cigarettes.”

  Kane chuckles. “Well, you still can’t go four fucking seconds without making a stupid joke, so it can’t be all that bad.”

  I shrug.

  “The girl?”

  “Delilah.”

  “Guess that makes you Samson. How’s that haircut feel?”

  I grin. “Look at you, throwing out actual biblical shit.”

  “I’ve got my moments,” Kane chuckles. “She come to see you at all?”

  I shake my head. “I think Worthington might’ve been the nail in the coffin there. No, she hasn’t, and I don’t blame her.”

  “She knows you didn’t actually do anything in that town, right?”

  “Doesn’t matter. The whole town is gonna hate her if she takes my side, and we both know it. It’s over, man,” I growl, thumping my head against the wall. “It’s over.”

  Kane sighs. “I’m gonna make some calls, brother. Sit tight, alright?”

  “I’ll try not to go anywhere,” I mutter dryly before I hang the phone back up as my heart sinks.

  It is, in fact, over.

  “Preacher!”

  I frown and look up at the cop. “Yeah?”

  “You’ve got a visitor.”

  I blink. Holy shit, Kane.

  “A lawyer?”

  “A mechanic, actually,” a familiar voice grunts.

  The cop steps aside, and Jedediah Somerset steps forward. The cop walks over and starts unlocking my cell, and my pulse quickens. Jeb might be a Godly type, but he’s a brawny fucking guy, and this is a small cell.

  “Whoa, whoa, hang on, hang on!” I grunt, standing. “Hang on, you can’t just let him in here! You took an oath, man!”

  The cop frowns at me and rolls his eyes. He turns to Jeb. “You got ten minutes, Jeb.”

  “Only need five,” he grunts. “Thanks, Carl.”

  “Carl, you dick!” I yell. “This is exactly the type of shit that gives good cops a bad name—”

  “Will you quit hollering?” Jeb grunts. Carl smirks and locks the door behind him before he heads back out to the front of the station. I swallow and I size Jebediah up as he folds his arms over his chest.

  “So, figured we should talk, son.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “But since you talk plenty, how about I go first.”

  I nod again. “Works for me.”

  He levels his eyes at me, and he sighs. “Do you love my daughter.”

  I blink. Wait, what?

  “Excuse me?”

  “It ain’t a complex question, preacher.”

  I frown. “Guess you can stop calling me that.”

  He shrugs. “Except it appears you actually are one. Minister of The Universal Life Church, is it?”

  I smile wryly. “It’s just this online thing.”

  “But it’s an actual ordainment, right?”

  “I guess?” I shrug. “Yeah, it is.”

  “Jesus Christ never went to seminary school, you know,” he grunts. “Never had any certificate from any place that said he was what he was. He just… was. He preached the Word, and that made him a preacher, of sorts.”

  I frown. “Think there was a fair amount of sway there, seeing who his daddy was.”

  Jeb cracks a grin. “Fair enough.” He sighs. “So, you are a preacher, even if you don’t really hold God in your heart.”

  I frown. “I don’t not, I just…” I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  “Speak,” he grunts.

  “I didn’t exactly come from a loving home, Mr. Somerset.”

  “That your excuse for not knowing God?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You know, I didn’t come from Canaan myself, and I sure as heck didn’t come from a home filled with love. But I used that, and I remembered that when I decided to fill my own house with love, and goodness, and the Holy Spirit.”

  He sighs again. “So, you’re a preacher.”

  “Yup.”

  “And a con man.”

  “At times.”

  He nods. “The world’s a tough place sometimes, I ain’t gonna dispute that with you. And a man needs to make money.”

  I frown. “Mr. Somerset—”

  “Jeb.”

  “Okay, Jeb, I don’t think you heard me.”

  “I heard you just fine, boy,” he mutters. “You’re a smooth talker, but you’re not that smooth. No, I knew what you was up to when you rolled into town and set up shop. I’m betting a lot more people did than you think.” He aches a brow at me “You’re clever, but you’re not that clever.”

  I look down at my hands.

  “But,” Jeb adds. “People need to feel like there’s a higher power—that someone’s got their butts when they fall on ‘em. You sell that sense of being cared for, and watched out for, and if some folks are willing to pay for it, well, it is what it is. Like I said, it’s nice to think of the world as pure good or evil, but a man does need to eat.” He frowns. “There are worse things people do out there for money, believe me.”

  “Jeb, I never meant to—” I frown. “I mean Paul.”

  He frowns. “My son made his own choices, and he just can’t stop picking the wrong one sometimes.” He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry for that, Gabriel. He did what he did, and he’s going to pay for his crimes. His mama and I love him dearly, but sometimes, you need to fall on your ass to remember that gravity always wins.”

  He winks. “But hell, that was actually pretty sneaky of you.”

  I grin. “I have my moments.”

  “So I gather.” He clears his throat. “You know, I did call some of those towns Paul was yammering about.”

  My jaw tightens.

  “They’re still mad as hatters at you up in Lockton, that business with the minister’s wife?”

  “That never happened,” I growl. “She made a play, I said no—”

  Jeb chuckles. “Relax, I believe you. I do, really. That minister still doesn’t, poor man, but the local sheriff does, and he set my mind right.” He clears his throat. “Then I called that place in West Virginia. Got ahold of a man named Winston Maples. Seems you stopped a couple of skinhead neo-Nazi shit-heels from beating him up.”

  I say nothing, and Jeb nods.

  “That says a lot about you, as a man, you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And then I called Worthington, up in Minnesota.”

  I scowl, but he shakes his head and waves a hand. “Rest easy, they’re not even mad at you anymore up there. The girl came clean about that diary. Actual
ly, the mayor’s been trying to track you down to apologize and offer you some compensation for…” he chuckles. “Well, apparently there were some shots fired on your way out of town?”

  “They got the back window of the Winnebago and put a hole in my last baptism tank.”

  Jeb chuckles. “Well, he’d like you to give him a call, so he can reimburse you for that one.”

  He sighs and folds his arms over his chest, and his eyes narrow at me. “So let’s talk about my daughter.”

  “Jeb—”

  “You love her? No, hold up, before you open that smooth-talkin’ mouth of yours,” he growls. “I want you to look me in the eye and give me an honest—”

  “Yes,” I hiss, with zero hesitation. “Yes, I do.”

  His mouth tightens.

  “I mean really, boy. Do you—”

  “I love her with every single part of my soul, and my heart,” I growl. “Utterly and completely. Sir, I love Delilah like some people love God, or Jesus. More than that, actually.” I shake my head. “I won’t lie to you and pretend that I’ve got faith, or that I see a higher power. I don’t know if I do, and I don’t know if I ever will.”

  I take a breath and look him right in the eye.

  “I don’t know if I believe in God, but I do believe in loving your daughter.”

  Jeb holds my gaze, and slowly, a grin begins to spread over his lips.

  “Hell,” he grunts. “You are pretty damn good at talking, you know that?”

  I grin. “Maybe I should make a living out of it.”

  He laughs. “Bit of a smartass, too.”

  “Just a bit.”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “Alright, hell, that works for me.” He turns and bangs on the bars. “Hey Carl!”

  The cop steps back in from the front office, and Jeb shrugs. “Alright, let him out. We’re good here.”

  I blink. “Hang on, just like that?”

  “You wanna stay?”

  I grin. “I’ll pass. But… how?”

  “Lizzie flipped on Paul and spilled everything. Plus, you didn’t actually do anything except legally marry two people.” He frowns and looks at me. “Sorry for my shit-heel son.”

  “No harm no foul.”

  Carl unlocks the door and heads back out, and Jeb and I step out of the cell. I start to follow Carl, but Jeb stops me with a big hand on my shoulder.

  “Just so we’re clear,” he grunts. “If you’ve laid hands on Delilah, you will be marrying her.”

  I grin. “Mr. Somerset, just so we’re clear, the Lord himself couldn’t stop me. I mean, figured I’d ask first though if that works for you?”

  He grins and shakes his head. “You really are some kind of smartass, aren’t you?”

  “That I am, sir. That I am.”

  “Yeah, well smartass, she’s waiting outside for you.”

  I stop short, my heart racing, and I slowly turn to look at him.

  “Go on,” he chuckles. “Get.”

  I’ve never run so fast out of police station, and believe me, this is far from the first time I’ve run out of one. I slam through the front doors and half-stumble down the front steps, and there, leaning against the pickup truck in that gorgeous blue dress, looking like salvation itself, is Delilah.

  She screams when she sees me, and we come crashing together as she jumps into my arms. She gasps, and her lips crush to mine, and I kiss her like I never want to stop.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she gasps.

  “Nah, I’m like a bad penny,” I grin.

  She giggles and hugs me tightly. “Well, you’re my bad penny.”

  “I’ll take that,” I groan, holding her close before her mouth finds mine again, and I kiss her deeply.

  “I love you, Delilah Somerset.”

  She moans. “I love you too, Gabriel Mar—” She suddenly frowns. “Wait, that really is your name, right?”

  I arch a brow mysteriously, and her jaw drops before I crack up.

  “Yeah, angel, that’s me.”

  “Oh my God, you almost had me, ass!” she punches me before she kisses me deeply.

  “See I’m pretty sure I do have you.”

  “Goddamn right you do,” she murmurs.

  I chuckle. “My goodness, Delilah Somerset, and here you are taking the Lord’s name in vain. What sort of wicked sins have I dragged you into?”

  “I don’t know,” she purrs, and her eyes spark into mine. “But maybe we could get out of here and you can drag me into whatever sin you want?”

  My cock pulses, and my hands tighten on her as I grin wolfishly.

  “Ma’am, I’ll have you know, I am a preacher—”

  “Hey Gabriel?”

  “Yeah?”

  She grins. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  Oh, and I do.

  Epilogue

  Gabriel

  I’ve been told I’ve got a mouth on me, and I don’t mean that in the way Delilah screams it sometimes when mine is between her thighs. My mouth, and the smartass behind it, has been my meal ticket ever since Kane and I found ourselves on the street trying to figure out how we were going to survive. But it’s also gotten me into arguably more trouble than it’s ever gotten me out of.

  The fact is, when I hit Canaan, I’d been talking so loud and running my damn mouth so long, I was deaf to anything else. Snark and sarcasm and charm can take you far in this world, but when the wheels fall off, or when the gas runs out, it helps to have something else, too: love, or at least a heart that’s open to finding it.

  But charm and a smartass mouth was all I had. I’ve spent most of my life running, and thinking it was me versus the rest of the world. I existed in a bullshit sense of superiority over the “suckers” I robbed, preying off their faith, and love, and hope. Except I know now that I was the biggest sucker of them all, for arrogantly thinking I was above all that shit. I felt superior to people—that somehow since I didn’t have love, or faith in pretty much anything but the almighty dollar, that I was better than them.

  I was wrong.

  I wasn’t better than anyone who had love in their heart. I was pathetic for thinking running my mouth was a substitute for opening my heart up. I laughed at people who had “faith” in what I could not for the life of me distinguish from believing in fucking magic, or superpowers. To me, praying to God, or thanking Jesus was on the same level as thanking Ron fucking Weasely for the meal you’re about to dig into, or asking Batman to forgive your sins.

  But then, Delilah Somerset walked into my life and turned the whole bullshit parade upside down. She didn’t “convert” me, or “save” me, but she did save me, if that makes any sense at all.

  Like I said, I’ve spent my whole life running—sometimes, often times, running from something. But also, if I’m being honest with myself—because that’s something I actually do now—it was that I was running towards something else that I was pretty sure I was never going to actually find. It was as if running towards it and never getting it was somehow “proving” to myself that it didn’t exist.

  I’m talking about love, by the way.

  But, maybe love and faith are the same thing, because I do know that the day Delilah fell into my world, it was like being saved, as people like to say. Maybe not from Hell, and maybe not in the sense of being saved into some sort of heavenly father’s arms. But, saved from my own blind, stubborn, self-righteous bullshit.

  And I gotta say, being saved, even if I mean it my way and not a bible-thumping way, feels pretty fucking good.

  It feels so good, in fact, that I’ve stopped running. I’ve stopped chasing, and instead, for the first time in my entire life, my feet are up, and my roots are down. For the first time in my life, I’ve got a place to call home that doesn’t sit on wheels or haul my ass away from crowds of angry ripped-off customers.

  Okay, technically, it’s not finished being built yet, and technically, home is still the Winnebago. But soon enough, we’re going to retire the old girl and move into the
house we’re putting up in the very spot where my tent once stood, on the outskirts of Canaan. Surprised? Well, don’t be. I like it here. Hell, I could honestly like a hovel at the bottom of a pit if Delilah was there with me. Thankfully, Canaan is a whole lot better than a pit.

  And now, it’s home.

  I like to joke that I took Jeb’s advice, but really, the four horsemen themselves couldn’t have stopped me from asking Delilah to marry me. I supposed if there is a God and He’s got any sense of karmic justice, He could have done a whole lot to convince her to say no. But, she didn’t, and whether that’s because the good Lord approves, or because we really are alone in the universe, or because I somehow beat the system is beyond anything I need to question.

  I’m a smartass with a big mouth, but I’m smart enough these days to keep it the fuck shut when I’m ahead of the game. And marrying Delilah decidedly puts me ahead of the game, trust me.

  So, I married the girl, and now Canaan is home, much to the amusement of my brother. Lizzie’s dad’s money helped her beat the conspiracy to commit fraud charges, but Paul ended up going to prison for embezzlement, fraud, and tax evasion. Don’t feel too bad for the guy though, he’s in one of those cushy white-collar type places where they’ve got painting lessons and free HBO or something.

  Also, Paul might be a dick, not to mention a real, real shitty con man, but jail might’ve actually been a wake-up call for him. He’s taking college courses again from behind bars, and he’s on his way to actually getting that divinity school degree. I’m pretty sure the town of Canaan is fresh out of fucks to give when it comes to helping him set up a church or looking to him as any sort of spiritual guide, but that’s the bed he made. Apparently, he’s still got his eyes on Costa Rica after he gets out, but this time, he’s thinking about bringing religion, not a suitcase full of ill-gotten cash.

  Who knows, but then, if I can be “saved,” so can that bag of dicks.

  Oh and him and Lizzie are still technically legally married—a fact that amuses me to no end. Who knows, maybe those two crazy kids will wind up in Costa Rica together and find true love. Or she’ll run him over with a car the first chance she gets.

  As they say, God only knows.