Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(33)



CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Uncomfortable, Deuce shifted irritably in one of the two high-back wooden chairs Preacher had in his office.

With his hands steepled in front of him, his elbows propped on top of his monstrous, archaic, wooden desk, Preacher nodded gravely. “I agree. Big Jay’s gotta go. I’ve ’bout had it with his f*ckin’ games and now this shit, hittin’ the Horsemen up when I’ve been payin’ them more than enough just to let our boys cross the f*ckin’ street in their territory.”

Deuce stared at him, his head not really into the conversation but instead wondering how his boys would feel about him handing them over to Preacher and consolidating both clubs. Preacher was a strong leader; he took good care of his boys and their families. He would do the same for the Horsemen.

He could leave then. Take to the road knowing Eva, his kids, and his club would all be looked after.

“I’ll kill you,” Preacher growled and his head jerked up.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll f*ckin’ kill you if you hurt either of them girls of mine.”

What the f*ck? How the f*ck? Was the guy a f*cking psychic?

“What the f*ck are you talkin’ about?”

“You think I don’t know what a man looks like when he’s thinkin’ ’bout runnin’? Seen it a hundred different times on a hundred different men. Life starts takin’ its toll, they’ve seen too much shit, done too much shit, and suddenly they’re drownin’ their bullshit in booze and *, and their marriages are fallin’ apart, and they’re hittin’ the bottle even harder, and then they’re dippin’ into shit they shouldn’t. All they wanna do is get on their bike and hit the road, start over, or find a quiet place to curl up and die.”

Deuce didn’t say anything. He didn’t have anything to say. Preacher was dead-on and he was too goddamned tired of everything to argue with the man.

“You think I didn’t wanna run?” Preacher shook his head. “You think I wanted to raise a little girl without her mama in a club full of *s? And after I found out what Frankie had been doin’ to my baby, right under my nose? But what f*ckin’ choice did I have? The day I put this patch on…”

Preacher slapped his hand over his “Prez” patch on his cut.

“The day you put that patch on was the day you handed over your life. You ain’t just the prez, Deuce, you ain’t just runnin’ a club, leadin’ those boys. It ain’t just a responsibility.

“It’s you, brother; your club, your boys are you. You start bleedin’ and they’re all gonna bleed with you. The club comes first, you know it, I know it, every man who gets patched in knows it. Don’t matter how bad shit gets with your old lady, your girls on the side, your f*ckin’ kids, you gotta keep goin’. Those boys of yours and their families, they are your family too. They ain’t just respectin’ you or lookin’ up to you, they’re countin’ on you to do right by them. You know this shit, Deuce, the club always—”

“Comes first,” he growled, interrupting Preacher. “I f*ckin’ know.”

“Yeah, you know it, but preachin’ it ain’t livin’ it. Time to get back to livin’ it.”

Fuck. As much as he hated Preacher, mainly because the f*cker had shot him twice, he couldn’t dispute a single word the man had said.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like you any more than I liked you when I first saw you pawin’ at my underage daughter,” Preacher growled. “But for some f*ckin’ reason she loves you, meanin’ I’m keepin’ my mouth shut.”

Deuce narrowed his eyes. “You call this keepin’ your mouth shut?”

Preacher shrugged. “I’m keepin’ my finger off the trigger, ain’t I?”

Jesus Christ, if Eva ever decided she hated her old man, he was going to be first in line to put this * in the ground. He might do it anyway, tell Eva he had no clue what happened to Preacher and for all he knew, aliens from outer space had kidnapped the slick bastard.

“You know,” Preacher continued, “me and your old man go way back. Knew him when I was just a kid. Knew your mother too, had a goddamned crush on her…and those f*ckin’ dimples of hers—”

“Is there a point to this f*ckin’ bullshit?” he spat. The last thing he wanted to hear about was Preacher’s crush on the mother he’d never gotten to meet.

“Yeah, *, and I was gettin’ to it. Woulda gotten to it by now if you woulda kept your f*ckin’ mouth shut.”

The two of them glared at each other until Preacher gave first, shaking his head and sighing.

“My point is, Reaper didn’t give a f*ck about the club, didn’t give a f*ck about your mother, or your brother’s mother, or any of you. All he gave a f*ck about was himself and what the club or what his bitches could do for him. He wanted power and money, he used the club to get it, he wanted kids to pass the gavel to, and he used those little girls to get ’em. But when it came down to it, he ain’t never gave a f*ck. And Deuce, that ain’t you. I know you got love for your boys and your family and that’s why you’re thinkin’ runnin’ is what’s best for ’em all, but I’m tellin’ you it ain’t. You leave and those boys are gonna fall apart. As for those kids you’ll be leavin’ behind, you tell me how it felt growin’ up with an old man who didn’t want ya? All you had was your little brother and when you lost Cas, then what the f*ck did you have?”

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