Chapter 1 - Preacher
Preacher walked into the common room, and froze at the sight before him.
“Will you get your god damned tongue out of my sisters mouth,” he roared. “I’m in the fucking room.”
Shadow smirked at him as he slowly pulled away from Tiffany. “Well you weren’t in the room when I stuck it in her mouth,” he replied cheekily.
“Fuck me,” Preacher grumbled. “Another god damned comedian.” Then he turned on his heel and furiously stomped to his office.
Preacher shoved open the door, then promptly kicked it shut after he was in. He crossed the room and collapsed in his chair, placing his elbows on the desk. Then he leaned over to rest his head in his hands. His club used to be full of badass bikers, now it was full of pussy whipped men. He missed the old days, the days before pink rooms and women drama.
Preacher tried to contain the couples by placing the bikers and their women in cabins, but that meant the clubhouse was getting fucking emptier. He also tried to recruit, but it was hard to find good men worthy of The Stone Knight’s patch.
He looked up when the door opened and Steele barged in. “Don’t you fucking knock?” Preacher growled in annoyance.
Steele gave him a lazy grin. “Why the fuck would I knock? Seems all you ever do these days is sit behind that fucking desk and pout.”
Preacher picked up a stapler and threw it at the brother, but Steele easily ducked out of the way as he chuckled.
“What the fucks your problem now? I heard you yelling from down the hall,” Steele questioned.
“Fucking Shadow was making out with my sister again,” Preacher sneered.
Steele laughed even harder. “They love each other brother. That’s bound to happen. You just wait until you find a woman, then maybe you won’t be so crusty.”
“I’m not crusty,” Preacher roared. He picked up a paper weight to throw at the brother next, but Steele wisely ducked back out the door. He moved quick too, probably getting that from hanging out with Trike. Now that little fucker could move.
Preacher stared at the closed door, and leaned back in his chair. The bikers were dropping like flies, even Mario had a girl of his own now. He needed to start a pool on who would be next and make some fucking dough. At least get something out of it.
Preacher gave up on the paperwork he had planned to do and pushed out of his chair. When he walked back into the common room he was happy to see Shadow and his sister were gone. He headed to the bar where Dragon and Navaho were sitting shooting the shit. Navaho instantly filled a glass with a shot of whiskey and passed it to him.
Drinking was what he needed to do now, he thought. Get rip roaring drunk, then pass out in bed.
“You okay prez?” Dragon asked with a raised brow. Preacher was on his third shot and decided to be frank.
“I’m sick of the fucking girls roaming around all the time,” he growled.
“Ah,” Dragon snickered. “So you’re jealous?”
“I’m not fucking jealous,” Preacher instantly denied. He was ready to say more, but his cell chose that moment to go off. He pulled it from his back pocket and stared at Raid’s name on the screen. The brother had been placed on the gate today, so that meant someone was here.
“What?” Preacher greeted in agitation.
“Car pulled up to the gate. Man and woman inside. Apparently they’re family of Snake’s,” Raid explained.
“Call the brother and have him meet me at the gate. I’m on my way,” Preacher ordered.
“Right,” Raid responded before hanging up.
Preacher turned to Dragon. “Snake has family at the gate. Care to join me?” he questioned his Sargent at Arms.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dragon grinned as he pushed out of his chair and followed Preacher out the door.
Halfway there they met Snake. “You got family?” Preacher asked the prospect.
“Pop and his daughter,” Snake revealed tightly.
Preacher raised his eyebrows at the brothers wording. “Not your sister?” he questioned in surprise.
“No,” Snake snapped angrily. “She’s not my fucking sister.”
Preacher shrugged as they reached the gate, knowing he’d figure out what was going on in a minute. He had no idea what to expect though. With this club, everything was a crap shoot.