Page 4 of Preacher Man

Always fun to rile the boss who glared at him. Zara chuckled.

Seeing the change in her these past months, there was strength in Zara’s eyes now. Her core was all club queen.Good for her, he thought. He'd known there was a fierce woman underneath her scared skin. And now the cock-for-brains Hades was well and truly out of the picture, thanks to Hawk's samurai skills with a flick knife.

"Someone had to take him on, Preacher. I volunteered as tribute." Lifting off Rider's lap, Preacher was pouring his coffee and caught the tender moment between those two as she kissed Rider's forehead and murmured something only for her man’s ears. "I'll leave you boys to your catch up." Zara touched his arm on her way out and smiled that Icelandic smile of hers. "It's really good to have you home. Stop by the house, Rider will charcoal you a burger, it's his new thing."

"I don't know whether to punch you for the sickening sight or feel jealous, Prez."

Rider smiled smugly. Preacher took the bench opposite, not really wanting the coffee, he could hear his bed like a siren, but he had to catch Rider up on everything from Lincoln first.

"You're a big bastard, but I'll take you down, Preach." Unfazed, Rider's smirk had a give-a-fuck quality about being ragged for his sappy love.

Being hooked to only one woman for the rest of ... ever. Talk about your common disease of the dick. Preacher couldn't comprehend it, not when there was so much pussy to try out. He liked all pussy, but single pussy was his favorite.

"H is happy as a pig in fresh shit. Already the repair shop has a mark-up of more than sixty percent this quarter."

"That was Red Light's doing." Offered Preacher slurping on the hot brew. "I just scouted around for the competition to see where we could undercut and made a few calls for supplies."

"How was it, with Red Light?" Rider's tone was easy enough, but he knew of what had gone down years ago with that nomad. He made a shrug look like a meh and left it at that. What was he gonna say, that Red Light still hated his guts and they'd nearly come to blows more than once? Old news with the same shit on a different day.

Preacher was coasting thirty-three years old, too damn old to be having school yard fights with kids who didn't like him.

He'd once been good buddies with Red Light.

Not anymore.

Not ever again from the way things appeared between them now.

He'd accepted it and moved on.

"I gotta get my head down for a few hours, Prez. Me and the boys are gonna head to Otis' tonight to welcome the prodigal handsome fucker home, that would be yours truly. You coming, or you prefer the smooching on the couch these days?" For a tired motherfucker, he could still move fast and out run Rider when he made to get up and kill Preacher.

A minute later, fully clothed, he was face down on his bed, legs dangling over the edge and he let sleep claim him.

This was what he needed, he thought, striding into Otis' bar and grill hours later, with his boys in tow, and a bar full of chicks. While he'd hadsomeforgettable action down in Lincoln the last couple of months, that town was scarce on women he wanted to spend a few hours fucking, so he'd returned home, hungry and wanting.

He'd get laid tonight before settling back into his normal routine tomorrow, clear his fucking cobwebs out before his dick assumed he was a corpse.

"Nice to see things don't change too much," he noted watching every waitress’s eyes turn his way, he smirked at Grinder who only rolled his eyes at Texas. Brothers be hating. Not Preacher's fault the ladies liked them big and built.

He slid himself into a booth, sitting in the far corner, all the better to survey the bar.

Some Pat Benatar song was playing on the jukebox. His tattooed fingers tapped the table.

The place wasn't so busy yet that he couldn't see everyone on a slow scan, mostly his green eyes browsed over the heads of people, didn't even stop for the guys, butoh, shit… he'd forgotten about her.

Nah, that was straight up lie.

She was not the type of woman you forgot easily. The popping curves made a man thirsty.

His eyes drifted to the bar and stayed there, barely aware of a perky little red-haired thing bouncing over to the table to take their order, he vaguely remembered asking for a bourbon, but he couldn't be sure until she brought his order, maybe it would be a cola, because fuck him, Preacher's eyes were glued to Ruby's slender back behind the bar.

She was stretched up on her toes trying to reconnect a fresh bottle of booze, the motion had the hem of her shirt riding up to reveal a patch of slim column of caramel colored spine and two of the cutest back dimples right above her butt where her jeans lay dangerously low.

His mouth went bone fucking dry. Straight up Sahara city.

No, he hadn't forgotten her at all, though the last time they'd spoken she was a bitey thing snarking his head off for no damn reason.

Without realizing, he was mentally undressing her like a deviant while she was unaware his eyes were on her. Fuck, stunning.