CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“It was like watching two junkyard dogs snarling. Only one junkyard dog turned me on.” - Ruby.

 

 

 

 

Nose-to-nose it was easy to see fatigue on Red’s face now like he’d lived a hard life the last four years. Being an MC nomad was not for everyone, moving constantly, never calling anywhere home, it was a lonely life. Finding a family not of blood or sin in the Renegade Souls was like coming home to ready-made acceptance for Preacher, he’d hungered for that for years and so being the sap that he wasn’t it pissed him off that he was on the outs with one of his crew.

Home truths came out on a growl.

"Goddamn. You're so full of shit, Wayne, I think at this point you're just pissed at me to keep hearing your own whining. I'm fucking tired of it. Go ahead and hate me, I don't care any longer. Do you think I choked Ginny on purpose, that I thought to myself, hey this chick I just had a nice time with, I'll wait until she's asleep, then I'll go to sleep and have a nightmare about killing the insurgent who murdered my brother and two of my squad, and I'll choke her? fuck you, do you know how pathetic that is? You’re reaching hard for a reason to hate me.  I said I was sorry, I'm fucking sorry, man. But it was years ago, she's happily married, she's not sitting around traumatized by it, I haven't scarred her for life, she's not floundering spewing hate, that's just you.  No one can hate me more than myself for what I did to that sweet girl, to know I hurt her even for a second, and to know I damaged our friendship. Ginny accepted my apology, she moved the fuck on, why you can't is beginning to look like you just love the attention.

“I could give a fuck anymore, Wayne. I can't atone anymore. I slept with your sister. I'm sorry! I wasn't even patched into the club, I wasn't breaking any fucking rules. I don't have a sister, but you can have a crack at my younger brother, though he's not into big and dumb, you might have to woo him." Rage filled Preacher's eyes. He'd met the end of his rope and was about to fucking hang Red Light with it.

Behind him, he was all too aware of Ruby. He could feel her in his skin, feel her eyes boring into his spine. He hated that she was seeing this, hearing Red Light spit his bullshit that wasn’t so much bullshit but the dead-on truth.

Everything he said happened.

He’d met Ginny one drunken night, how it goes in a bar, he hadn’t known she was Red’s sister, didn’t care whose sister she was to be truthful, he was using sex back than as a hardcore balm for his broken body and tired soul. He fucked anything anytime. Just as he was careful with Ruby now by not sleeping next to her, he hadn’t meant to that night either in Ginny’s small apartment. Sex wasn’t even memorable, but she was a sweet girl, she laughed at his bumfuck jokes, told him she wanted out of Colorado to go to nursing school.

They’d fucked. They’d drank. And then he’d woken in a dead sweat, his heart pounding outside of his chest, the fear so strong he could smell the Afghan blistering sandy air in his nostrils, Shane’s name on his tongue, buzzing in his head, that same devastation watching him die, grief devastating him all over again, his soul felt like it had shattered into a million pieces.  There one second, gone the next.

And he’d had his hand locked tight around her slim throat, Ginny’s face beet red from lack of oxygen, veins standing out on her forehead, struggling to unlock his hand, it was a spider trying to stop a rock smashing it, looking at him with despair and death in her eyes.

Fuck. He’d hated that fucking night.

It had been a living nightmare every night back then.

He’d let go of Ginny so fast, backing up he’d crashed onto the floor in a heap, the fall jarring his spine, apologizing over and over as she’d doubled up coughing until she was blue.

He’d tried to help her, god, he had… she was so scared of him.

He’d gotten her to the ER feeling like the biggest bastard walking. He’d called Grinder. Who came with a few boys, Rider included. Along with Red Light. That fucking revelation Ginny was his sister. The shock of it meant Preacher allowed Red to lash out and crack a fist to his jaw before Rider stepped in and said a hospital wasn’t the place for that. He didn’t have the words to make it right, how could he say sorry when Red's sister was being treated for strangulation in the other room? It had taken four of the boys to calm Red down, by that time the cops showed up, arrested Preacher, charges were dropped later once Grinder had talked and explained to Ginny, but he was still in lock-up for two days. By the time he’d gotten back to the club the hatred was deep rooted, there was no going back with Red.

He’d fucked his sister. Choked his sister. Who could forgive that?

Really, he hadn’t blamed him at all for it.  

They’d had an almighty fight and Red had taken off. He’d seen Ginny a year later, and she’d forgiven him. Funny how he couldn’t forgive himself. She'd gone to nursing school, after all, got married, had a couple of kids, Preacher was happy for her.

“I’m so sick of this, Red. Aren’t you sick of it? Hating me?” Red's lips tightened as if he wanted to stay something, but he remained soundless. He sighed, dropped the grip he had on the overalls, paced away before turning back, hands on his hips, lips thin. Ages ago he wouldn't have thought twice about putting Red down for talking to him the way he did, he would have said fuck it and walked away without a regret for bashing his skull in. Shane's voice in the back of his head always stopped him. Damn his brother for seeing the good in Preacher when he couldn't see past the head-fuck that was his PTSD. He was dead and still being the only voice of reason. Still looking out for Preacher from the damn grave. What a job.  His very own ghosted Jiminy bastard Cricket.

Only, now there was a second voice in his head telling him to back off, to not put Red in the hospital and she was located off to the side, this voice existed in the here and now, her eyes wide, taking in the ugly exchange.

For her, he was dropping it.

If he dared chance look at her he’d see that look in her eyes, the one people got when they knew what he had going on in his psyche. Oh, poor Asher. Poor Asher saw his brother die and now he can’t cope. Poor Asher is fucked up in the head.

There's no way he can look at Ruby and see pity. He kept her in his peripheral, standing with her hands in the leather jacket pockets.

So much for their two days together.

It was all going to shit.

Inhaling, he had to get a hold of himself, couldn’t lose it, not here, not now.

Not in front of her.

She was already in receipt of too much of his history, shit he never would have shared with her, without allowing her to see that violent side to him.

An insidious part of Preacher didn't even want to care about who hated him or not, he just wanted to walk away, to not feel the tightness in his sternum, to say fuck it, and chalk it up to his winning personality being not so winning after all.

“What’s it to be, Red? Are we going to be enemies forever? Because truthfully, I’m fine with it, but just decide already. Because what you just did with her … that was a dick move. She doesn’t deserve you being a cunt, you don’t even know her.”

A flicker of remorse passed over Red’s face but gone a second later. “She needed to know,” He said in his solemn way.

“No, I didn’t.”

Both men turned to her. Preacher the more startled. His chest cavity sunk in a little as her eyes came over him. “He and I aren’t like that. So, you telling me his business for my own good, that’s a bullshit lie you’re justifying to yourself just to jab at him. And I don’t care to be used against him for your kicks. And from the sounds of things, you have a massive grudge Asher doesn't deserve, it's petty.”

“You aren’t like that?” Red cocked his head. And Preacher was interested in her answer as well, feeling every slow heartbeat like her answer was the most important thing he'd ever waited to hear.

If he was gonna have a heart attack he wished it would hurry up so he could check out of this position right here.

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

Direct hit, baby. He knew, but still.

Red Light laughed humorlessly and strode across the shop, somehow, despite the tension in the air, people had started back at the work again, power drills and hammering started, the noise finally penetrated through his ears. “Babe, how many chicks do you think he puts on his bike?”

“That's none of my concern and I don’t care.”

“Zero. So, when I say you needed to know what he’s capable of. I mean it. You matter to him, that much is clear.”

“Is your sister damaged in any way?”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m trying to understand why you’d be a giant dick about this. Sure, he did a shitty thing, from what I can see, it wasn’t his choice to do that, crap happens, right? So, is your sister ruined by what happened, is that why you’ve kept up this vendetta? Because, Red Light, is it? As far as I can tell, you’re being cruel for dick’s sake. I mean, that just might be your personality, I don't know you, but as an outsider, I only see cruelty.”

A tick worked Red’s jaw. “No, she’s fine.” He answered reluctantly, but it didn’t even register with Preacher.

Holy fuck.

Ruby. His sweet Ruby going to bat for him.

Some of the tautness in his torso lessened and he breathed finally, letting air in and blowing it out.

 “Babe. Believe whatever you want, you’re gonna anyway, you’re on the back of his bike.” Excuse me? Her eyes seemed to convey. He adored that look on her.

“What the hell does that even mean? Preacher?”

“It’s nothing, Ruby. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“It means you’re something to him. And someone to him only gets hurt.”

“Oh, fuck you, Red. Seriously, fuck you. Haven’t you ever made a mistake?“ Hissed Preacher stepping back into this nightmare conversation, Red was stomping all over his last damn nerve. “I forgot you’re so damn perfect. I’m fucking done trying to fix this. Go fucking boo-hoo to someone else. The next time you see me I won’t be apologizing. I’m never saying sorry again, are you hearing me, brother?”

Red Light’s face was flushed It was a hot day, made hotter still from the fraught tension bouncing between them. Preacher meant every word. There was no forgiveness where acceptance was not offered, he couldn’t atone if Red wouldn’t meet him halfway.

It sucked. It fucking sucked. He considered him a club brother and he knew this shit was going to piss Rider off because he wanted Red back in the Colorado chapter one of these days. It would come down to it that Preacher needed to leave, both men wouldn’t coexist in the same town without coming to hateful blows.

His pulse arrested for a second then drove into high gear catching the understanding glance from Ruby.

She was flooring him. Why wasn’t she scared of him? Why wasn’t she running from him?

He walked over to her, caught up her hand, lacing her long skinny fingers through his and felt another blow when she squeezed his hand.

Goddamn, he was a second away from blubbing like a baby for her support.

“I’ll say one more thing then you can consider me a ghost, Red. We are club brothers, you might not want it, or like it, but you ever get in trouble I’ll be there. But this here between us, I won’t participate it any longer. You need anything, you can call. You wanna hate me until I go toes up, that’s fine, I won’t get in your face again and If I come through town we’ll keep it strictly club business.“

Preacher always hated silence. He’d rather a person come out and say whatever they had on their mind, because why keep it in? It just sat stagnant inside a person growing poison.  He had emotional pain right in his breastbone, it was constant. Being hated by a brother was one step down from pond scum.

Red’s gaze held his. His body language relaxed now as if nothing volatile had occurred between the men.

He ignored Preacher altogether. “It was good to meet ya, babe.”

Pity I can’t say the same. Her gorgeous eyes said with the prettiest brow arched high on her forehead.

Fuck. Preacher was done for. He grinned and felt the pressure in his sternum release. He gripped her hand and walked them out.

“Well that was a turd full of laughs,” she remarked once they reached his bike. He helped her on with the helmet.

“I’m sorry he dragged you into that, Ruby,” he wore a grimace waiting until she climbed on the bike behind him, he touched her thigh briefly and felt her arms go around him. Perfect skinny arms that fit his body perfectly. He was still vibrating from head to toe, mostly frustration for this goddamn Groundhog Day show that never seemed to see his shadow, it was an endless loop of nagging antagonism, the tit for tat was growing old.

“It’s fine.”

Was it? Was it really? He doubted it.

Preached scraped both hands over his head before fastening his own helmet, the metal containing the brewing headache threatening to blow his skull apart.

“You wanna grab some grub? There’s a diner not far, they do good pancakes.”

He kicked off the stand, revved his girl to life.

“You promised me something else, Preacher man. I’m not letting some pouting dickhead with a score to settle ruin the two days I’ve taken off from work. We’ll get food later. Let’s find a motel, yes?”

That stopped him fast. Pausing with his hand on the throttle.

He was a wreck internally and she just pieced him back together.

Veins popped out on Preacher’s forehead as he hunkered over the handlebars and blew out the air trapped in his lungs.

She still wanted him.

After listening to one of his biggest regrets and darkest secrets spat in her face she still wanted him.

His cock came to life. Her arms tightened around his belly.

“Preacher? Are we leaving now?”

“Yeah.” Voice thick with feeling. “Yeah, hold tight, baby.” His head was pounding, not with frustration now. Something Red had said. Ruby meant something to him.

She meant a lot to him.

Getting her on the back of his bike meant something important, something big.

Things were gonna change between them.

If he opened his big trap about it.

Her hand slid down his belly and covered his crotch. Grinding her palm.

Oh, shit. He forgot how to speak. How to think. His mind blanked out, all that existed was his cock and her hand. The groan boiled out of him. If they made it to a motel in one piece it’d be a miracle.

This woman. Really, this woman. She was tying him in knots he had no desire to unravel from.

Preacher hadn’t reached rock bottom. Not yet.

His hand shook on the ride to a motel ten miles away.

He kept it together. He kept his shit together. He wouldn’t hit rock bottom today.

There’s that sensation when you’ve sat too long on your leg and your foot is numbing, blood rushing back causing it to pins and needle, sharp stabbing pricks until the numbness wears off. He felt it in his chest as they rode. Frozen and tight.

With Ruby’s hand laid over his cock, he felt as though his entire body was numb.

She knew something about him he’d never wanted her to hear and she hadn’t run in the opposite direction to get away from him.

Part of him wanted to contain that side as self-preservation, whereas the truth was he was ashamed he couldn’t control his own psyche.

She hadn’t run or told him this between them was a bad idea.

Why not?

The thought of putting his hands on her in the same way he had with Ginny ran his blood to pure ice.

He’d fucking kill himself first.

Would never hurt the tiny dancer.

He hoped with all hope, anyway.

There was always a scream in the back of Preacher’s throat, like he’d swallowed it down forever ago and was forcing it to stay there, afraid of the unfettered noise. On bad nights it came out, rare these days, thank god, but he was always aware it was there. It tasted like copper and grief.

The scream would pale in insignificance if god forbid he ever injured Ruby. It would be a roar he couldn’t control.

Confrontations of the ugly kind left him with a sour taste. He should stick around the club, look for a fair fight to ease some of the tension. If he was at home he’d have Grinder spar with him, a fight to make sense of the mess of his head. It always did the trick if sex didn’t. With Ruby on the back of his bike working her lithe fingers over his crotch, he only had one thing on his mind.

Call him a simple man.

No fight could make him feel human as much as her hand stroking his cock did.

Don’t ever hurt this woman. He warned.

Or he’d eat his own damn gun.