Page 85 of Dirty Salvation

He finally brought the noise to a halt.

Before any club business was even put on the table Preacher whipped out his long arm and pulled the plate of fresh baked cookies and their vanilla sweet scent towards him hogging the whole damn dish, one motored into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed, another soon followed.

"Couldn't you have waited to feed your face? We're not having a tea party, brother."

Another cookie disappeared between Preacher's smiling lips, he winked at his accuser, running his fingers down his meticulously styled beard.

Preacher didn’t fuck around when it came to grooming. With his head shaved close to the skin around the sides, chocolate brown hair long on top, always caught up in a stubbed tail. His dark facial hair, as he liked to say, was a reflection on the kind of man he was, bad to the bone but stylish with it, was trimmed close to his jawline, around his lips, the beard growing down in a perfect three-inch point, he played with it when he was tense and Rider took note his brother was doing just that as he fed his face with more of the cookies laid out.

Far as he knew none of the boys baked fancy shit, the clubhouse was mostly a meat and potatoes kinda flop for grub. Had his girl been whipping up sweet shit in the kitchen for everyone?

"I'm a growing boy, I gotta eat. I can still listen to Rider. It’s called multitasking, Tex, you wanna learn it."

"You're thirty-fucking-two, I think you already stopped growing!"

The President in question cocked his head and pinned Preacher with a look, passed it across to Texas before another wise-ass remark came from him.

It was like corralling toddlers sometimes.

"Preach, just ‘cause you fuck two women at once doesn’t mean you got any multi-task skills going on.” Rider felt the need to advertise with a wide smirk and everyone guffawed banging hands on the table top. This table had seen a lotta shit over the years. Good times, bad times. Hopefully, Rider thought, they were coming out the other end and finally gonna see some good again.

Preacher sent a filthy grin down the table at Rider. Finished off the last cookie, his fingers coasting down his beard and back up again, and replied deadpanned, green eyes amused. “Look who’s talking, boss-man, getting yourself all jacked-up over one pretty chick. Just warn us if you’re ‘bout to throw the wedding bouquet, I wanna get out the way of these girlies diving for it."

Rider laughed. “Fuck you.” Fired his middle finger, “Now if you ladies finished with the gossipin'. Let’s get this wrapped up quick. I have a date to get fuckin’ ready for.” He said it with a smile and waited for the jokes that would inevitably come.

All his brothers barked out laughing, didn’t let him wait long, one fired after the other about how he was pussy-whipped.

ASoulsoutlawdating. Even Rider could see the joke.

New times were happening around the Renegade Souls.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Sweet love…” - Hades

A few weeks back.

The woman had tended to the man’s open wound for five days as he drifted in and out of consciousness. She cleaned it with peroxide and packed it with cotton. She wanted to use her two-way radio to call for help.

He needed a doctor quite badly for his injury, the gaping hole was infected. Way past her capabilities of first aid.

He'd begged her not to before she'd helped him to her cabin. His voice rough with sincerity telling her bad men were following him, he just needed time.

He promised he wasn't a criminal. Wrong place wrong time.

She didn't know why she believed him. Maybe she was stupid.

Her yearly hiking retreat was proving to be different. God, she’d needed this vacation more than ever. It was going to be a long tough year ahead. She’d needed this trip.

She treated him with the antibiotics she carried with her.

Watched over him.

Chased away his fever with cold compresses and bed baths.

Tried not to look at his all over tattooed body or how large he was. She did body art once upon a time long ago, she admired the work.

All over.