Preacher Man (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 2)

by V. Theia

  “Yes,” she told him right before she took him into her mouth, a little at a time because he was big and her mouth wasn’t the size of the Hoover Dam. “Didn’t you know I’m a blowjob savant? I’m repaying the car debt. Relax, Preacher man. Ruby’s got this.”

  He laughed rich and dark flashing her his dangerously sexy smile to make her damp and achy in all the right places.

  She so had this.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Apparently, there’s no time like the present to go to crazy-town. Season ticket holder right here.” - Preacher.

  Having a mercurial mind, Preacher was in no doubt where his thoughts were at as he eye-stalked Ruby from across the large expanse of space between them. He moved past his boys who were doing whatthefuckever he didn’t care, and caught onto his lady, hearing her laugh before his eyes found her. He stopped in his tracks, resting a shoulder in the doorway between the hallway and the main room, he had a perfect view of Ruby. She was deep in discussion with Zara, the way chicks got when it was something important, both women at the bar, one nursing a bottle of coke, the other an OJ, but their easy conversation, getting along as chicks did, wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the carefree expression on Ruby’s face, he saw it rarely and never after she’d had interaction with her sister who drained the life out of Ruby at every opportunity.

  She never did call that douchebag Dwayne back, Preacher though, wanted to have a real long talk with him one of these days, he wouldn’t forget he’d called Ruby a bitch. She laughed at something Zara was saying, Preacher took the noise in and kept it, both smiling like they had their own little feminine club going, and membership to all those who had a dick were denied, he liked that a lot, Z-girl was good people now she’d stopped puking into random trash cans, by all accounts her ‘flu’ had cleared up, but again, it wasn’t the club queen who held any of his attention, that accolade went solely to the woman perched on the stool, her perfect knees were bare, the floaty red skirt she wore resting just above it, and with her hair down and the summery little sleeveless shirt, the excitement Preacher felt pounded in his gut indestructible.

  They’d been having a good time together, keeping to her rules all the while he used subtle ways to try and ingrain himself on her life, he wasn’t above corruption or means of getting his own way when he wanted something, and Preacher was certain he wanted more from Ruby than the rules she’d laid out for them.

  As it stood right now they’d spent more days this week at his house than anything else, she’d even cooked for them, he’d cooked for her, they’d gone to the damn grocery store together and she’d asked him what kind of beef patties he’d wanted, how many kind were there? Cute little thing standing in the meat aisle for ten minutes deliberating, all the while Preacher just wanted to mount her right there and then.

  He had it bad.

  He had it hard.

  His balls throbbed. It was some wicked addiction to his woman if he wanted to empty himself a few hours after already having her in the shower. Her laugh was music and sex. He liked seeing her relaxed and in his place, in his club, loved having her on the back of his bike.

  The thud in his chest became a boom-boom, matching the pain in the back of his skull, the headache going on sixteen hours now. When she was at his place, Preacher wasn't sleeping much.

  He forgot that pain. His gaze eating her up, he fished for his cell phone to-----

  “You can get arrested for that, you pervert.” A voice behind him announced quietly. He turned to see a cocky grin on Grinder’s face. He answered it with his own. His boy had been absent lately. “Not if you don’t call the cops, you narc. Where’ve you been hiding? You weren’t at the meeting again earlier.”

  “You know how it is, bro.” He shrugged smiling but Preacher saw something pass through his eyes before it was masked and jovial Grinder was back in the room.

  “You got trouble, G?”

  “All’s fine, my man, nothing for you to worry about.”

  “G…”

  “Really, Preach.” He clapped Preacher on the shoulder. “But you know, if I ever was, you get my girl out there, ya understand?” His girl being his custom-made Harley.

  The fuck. Though Grinder was giving the impression he was joking, Preacher could sense something was off with him, unless on assignment, G wasn’t the type to go wandering for days on end with no word. Preacher had been that busy with work and his Ruby the last few days that he’d taken his eye off the friend ball. Grinder was always there for him through every shitstorm, both personal and club related, and fuck, some days in the past had been pretty fucking stormy and through it all Grinder was his wingman. He grimaced watched him walking away.

  It showed just where Preacher’s head was when that gorgeous laugh grabbed his attention. She’d swiveled around on the stool, fuck, he could almost see up her skirt for a second, his breath stalled, his head bent over his phone, no wonder his brain was aching, she made him crazy enough to try to type shit out when he only usually used it for calls. He didn’t have apps other than his GPS, what the hell did an outlaw want with social media, was he gonna announce the next beat down or under the table illegal deal? But he was even using one of those emoji’s. He smirked sending it and waited while she read;

  P: 7:56 - “Let your knees drop open so I can get a better look.”

  Her head came up so fast, searching… searching. Here I am, baby. When she found where Preacher was he winked at the little smile playing on her lips. She mouthed ‘pervert’ what was it today people all accusing him of dirty things, just because he had dark thoughts about this woman didn’t mean… nah, he was a pervert, he could own it. Better to own up to what and who he was. Besides which, from all the polls and surveys he’d taken within his bedroom walls, and the screaming graphs, Ruby pretty much liked him the way he was. Now to get her to really like him, that was the task, he thought.

  She loved her movie quotes so much maybe he could say; I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl asking her to like him. He’d lose all his man-cards, but hey, if it pleased the tiny dancer.

  And that happy freaky weird thought was about as far as Preacher got as he stepped into the main room to claim a kiss from his lady, someone swept in from the main entrance, and two things happened at once. The door crashed against the metal of the doorstopper, clanging it on an echoed loop, making it sound like a fucking bomb going off, and from the compound parking lot was the backfire of some bastard’s car, logically he knew it was just a customer pulling into the shop parking bay with a car that needed some resuscitation, but there was nothing logical in just how he came to an unnatural stop, bones, and muscles freezing in mid-step because all Preacher could hear was rapid gunfire, all he could feel was the shudders of bombs under his feet.

  Oh, fuck, no.

  No. No. No. Please. No.

  It was in his head, in his pores, he tasted the pain and the anguish and the sheer terror pulsing through his veins.

  It was real. It was so fucking real and he couldn’t blink it away this time.

  His ordinary environment with backfiring cars and slamming doors had knocked on his neurosis’ door and triggered an episode unlike anything he’d had in such a long time he’d stupidly, ignorantly assumed he was past the worst of his issues.

  But here they were waving their freak flags in the air.

  Bile sped up his windpipe, grease churned in his belly, sweat broke out all over him. There was no fucking air in the atmosphere.

  And the thing was, while he was mid-panic, sweat beading on his face and neck, his fists clenched hanging like loose branches at his sides, his mind recreating the most terrible time of his life, Preacher was cognizant of just who was a couple of feet away, and was powerless to do anything about it.

  All that could be heard within the lock of his own mind was pandemonium.

  Trapped. Trapped.

  Heat burned. Fire stained his brain. Bullets and shrapnel, he felt it all in phantom pain with the beat of the s
un rays and bullets dropping at his feet.

  “No,” he hissed. Not, not here, please. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision, this can't occur, no, fucking no ... but it was beyond useless. This was going to happen. It was already happening.

  The fire burned in his lungs and it was the worst possible time for it. Preacher started churning in air, growing dizzy, any second now the fucking buzzing in his head will come. It always comes and there's not a thing he can do about it. The equilibrium will take him off his feet. And if he doesn’t puke it’ll be a miracle.

  Had he mentioned it was the worst possible fucking time?

  "Rider." He choked out. His prez had been across the room just a bit ago and was in front of him in a second. “Rider.” Voice strangled, pleading. Flashes behind his eyeballs. "Get her … get her out of here." The last rational part of his brain working before he went down to his knees.

  That darkness mid-step setting into his brain.

  How fucking long was it now? More than a year since his last episode.

  Not now, you fucker.

  Reasoning with himself wouldn't help. Already his own psychosis had turned enemy on him, placing him on dirt and sand, the sun blistering his skin off. The survival pack on his back heavy.

  No. don't show me. Please.

  "I'm here, buddy." Grinder.

  He had to roll with it, because what fucking choice did he have.

  He couldn't breathe. Dizziness assaulted him.

  And then the memories became real. He couldn't distinguish where he was anymore.

  He fought the arms around him. Had to save Shane.

  That same scene over. The shack blew up not thirty yards from him, the blast of it shot him back right into their own jeep breaking every one of his ribs, blew his helmet off his head, the thing saved him, fucking saved him, his spine almost breaking in half as he struggled to his feet. the shock of it. The altogether fucking shock. Every heartbeat almost broke him apart. Rapid thumps under his ribs.

  No. No. Shane. SHANE IS IN THERE!

  “SHANE!! SHANE!!! NO!”

  Pain splintered his chest apart and broke Preacher in two.

  ******

  “I’m telling you, it was this big!” Declared Zara holding out her hands, space at least a foot apart, both laughed until Ruby almost spit cola all over the bar. God, this was nice. Working twelve hours at the bar yesterday and another six at the Renegade Souls doing two tattoos she was mentally wiped out, she’d jumped at the chance for a soft drink and a chat that didn’t involve bikes and or bikes. Bikers were boringly one track minded.

  Ruby was grinning down at her text, feeling the pulse of her heart increase, Preacher was so bad, and she was so bad for thinking of flashing him her underwear, he tempted her like the devil. But nothing came of it, when she heard a commotion, she never for a second thought it would be Preacher as she swiveled her butt on the chair around to face the middle of the room. She blinked, unable to process.

  Oh, god.

  “Preacher!”

  “Hey, now. It’s okay.” Zara tried to tell her. Ruby wasn’t listening. Her feet met the floor, ready to go to him as he let out a blood-curdling scream that stopped her in her tracks, fear for him washed through her vision. “SHANE!”

  Her heart skipped a beat. This must be what that guy back in Nebraska had been warning her about, this was Preacher’s …. what … PTSD, he’d said, right? This was how it manifested?

  With a lump in her throat, she unglued her feet she only had one thought and that was getting to him, only to come up against Rider, blocking her path. She’d caught Preacher’s get her out of here. She was the her.

  No. Fricking. Way. Buster.

  “Get out of my way, please.” She stepped left, he stepped right, holding out his hands like he was gentling a wild horse, concern in his blue eyes, and she got it, she really did get it, Preacher was their boy, they were protecting their own. She got it, but he wouldn’t stop her, she cared for Asher, too. She fucking cared for that man.

  “Oh, fuck.” Someone exclaimed as the man she had feelings for continued to rage and call out.

  “Move that table so he doesn’t crack his damn skull.”

  “I got it.”

  “G, on his left, I’ll go right.”

  "He's strong as a fucking bull, grab on."

  They were all there for their boy. Ruby got it.

  "I understand what you're doing, but you need to know you don't need to protect me from him."

  "It's what he wants, Ruby. What he made me promise to do if he had an episode."

  "And I get that. But understand this, he needs me right now, and I need to go to him, look at him, he's lost in a nightmare, I'm not in danger from Asher. Please, let me go to him."

  Preacher was yelling out, his voice cracking, and it broke her heart hearing the despair turn him into a man she didn't recognize. The titan of a man she was used to, his ego larger than he was, always laughing, flirting, so much flirting he was a walking gland, and he was on the floor fucking broken into a million pieces. “Please, Shane, Please, god.” His voice was anguish and grief.

  The biker club was Rider’s kingdom, if he decided to kick her out, she couldn’t do much else, the hierarchy began and ended with the president. “Please, Rider. Look at him! I care for him, too. Please, let me help him. I can't leave him like this. I won't leave him. You’ll have to tackle me to the floor...”

  “Biker-man, this is her man.” Offered a softly spoken Zara behind her, Rider’s eyes shifted briefly to his woman.

  He seemed to waver, looking her deep in the eyes, then back at his friend going through private hell, her heart broke open to hear his mutterings and to watch Grinder try to calm him down. "Let me go to him."

  She’d known Preacher was a big man, huge, and strong of both mind and build, but when it looked like he was about to break away from the men who were holding him, Rider took off on a hard sprint, vaulting over the coffee table to grab onto that big man in his struggle.

  She followed fast across the common room, dropping to her knees right in front of a man she didn't recognize for a second, his face contorted in suffering, eyes open but not seeing anything other than what was swelling in his mind. Oh, sweet hell, what is happening to you?

  "Ruby, he's not himself right now, it might be better if you go, he didn’t want you to see him this way, he’ll be okay, we got him." Advised Rider, his arm locked around Preacher's neck, not to subdue him for any of their sake's but to keep Preacher safe from harming himself, all his brothers hovered around with a look of concern on their faces like they'd been through it a hundred times with him.

  This was her first time and may god help her to help him, her chest was shaking with anxiety. She prayed so hard; please hear me, Preacher needs help.

  Without glancing at Rider, her eyes were trained on Preacher’s twisted face, she fortified her voice into something stronger and said. "I'm not leaving him."

  "Why did you do it, man, it was fucked up!" Preacher growled hissing through his teeth, looking right at her and yet not seeing her. "You fucking followed me! You should have stayed your ass home, gave Ma all those grandbabies she wanted, now look at you."

  Talking to his dead brother. If anything was going to have her bawling it was that.

  Her poor Preacher man. Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

  Tentatively, as though she was approaching a wild animal, she shuffled forward on her knees knowing the men had a good hold on Preacher's body immobilizing, her fingers shaking, her whole fucking body shaking, she reached out and touched his throat, felt his pulse hammering so wildly it was a wonder his heart could cope with the increase of blood it was pumping out "Hey there, Preacher man, come on back now, baby, you don’t have to be there, come on back."

  His fear was hers. It was a knot in her stomach. Powerless, this what it truly felt like to not know what to do for someone you loved, like the very next minutes would make all the difference to the future. It was impera
tive he return. As she held his face, she had the sense she was holding her whole entire world.

  Oh god.

  She loved him.

  She’d fallen in love with her fuck buddy. Her belly lurched even as she moved closer to touch him, trying desperately to soothe the pain etched in his skin, she couldn’t think of her feelings, Preacher was all that mattered.

  "Get down! get down!" He hissed through gritted teeth, and let go of the most vicious blood-curdling scream she'd ever heard. Rider was murmuring words to him by his ear, Grinder had him around the torso. Ruby focused solely on Preacher's face, watching the rapidness of his massive chest inflating and the way pressure sweat popped out along his forehead, running in a slow drip down his jaw to gather in his beard, her hand went to his cheek, stroking gently, no clue what she was doing, other than she needed to touch him, to try to calm the beast within.

  They’d all sprang into action as if they’d practiced it like a fire drill, but she was batting with no experience except for the instinct to help someone in obvious pain, someone she cared for, more than she realized.

  "Why did you do it, Shaneo? You could have had something good, now you're just dead!" Pain rough with torture. The disquietude carved in every line on his face tore a new ache inside her chest, he was a brand-new person, a broken man.

  "I know, I'm such a fucking asshole, Ash." She answered and a split-second Preacher paused in his struggle, his unfocused eyes looking square at her but she guessed he wasn't seeing her at all, his mind was someone far away in a war-torn country witnessing the loss of his brother all over again.

  The place that had destroyed him. Whatever she'd said had made him blink. She went with it. "I should have listened to you, jackass move, right?" Her fingers moved against his strong jaw. Willing him to come back to her. He weakened a little, shoulders sagging forward, his chest deflating. He leaned forward on his knees, and Rider dropped his arm from around his neck but stayed in grabbing distance. She wasn’t fearful for herself, only for Preacher, she kept his face in her hands, brought him in, let him rest his forehead to hers, his rough choppy breathing brushing her face.