“Because it’s true.’
“Chris, let the girl do her job and come back to bed.”
“The queen of the castle has spoken, Dad. I’d listen to her if I were you.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Three women think they run my life. Call if you need anything.”
“I will, but we won’t.” I hang up, grateful to be off the hot seat.
The sound of a vehicle approaching draws my attention. I move to the side entrance in the blind spot from the cameras we’d created for this purpose. The driver’s door opens, and I see a flash of blondish brown hair streaked with gray. Stomach flipping, I bite my bottom lip. Preacher. I have been drooling over the older man since he joined the chapter ten years ago. I pull out my phone to check my face and squeak. I’m still wearing my silk bonnet. Tearing it off my head, I hide it in a cabinet and shake out the ombré golden brown box braids protecting my strands from the Vegas sun. I lick my lips and smooth invisible wrinkles from the form-fitting sleep pants. At least I look cute.
I hear Ang’s voice in my head, “Girl, shoot your shot.”
He raps on the door, and I stand to my full five foot nine inches and walk forward.
“Queenie.” He jerks back, surprised. “I thought you were out of the business?” His thick brows swoop down to frame his panty-wetting expressive eyes the color of chocolate. The eyes are the window to the soul, and Preacher’s tell a story of loss, passion, and other things I want to discover firsthand.
I admire the strong jaw, full lips, and square jaw mapped by fine lines and crow’s feet. This is a man who’s lived and laughed.
“Not out, just pursuing other interests.” I smile up at him as I step away and wave him inside.
“Oh, such as?” His tongue doesn’t simply deliver words. It makes love to them. The British accent, the breadth of his shoulders, and the keen interest in his gaze has my stomach fluttering.
“Interior designing,” I say bashfully as we move to the gurney.
“Is that so? You want to make homes look beautiful, or hotels?” He cocks his head, and the long hair falling over his broad forehead gives him a boyish vibe.
“Ha. I’m not picky at this point. I’m still building up a name for myself.”
“I think it’s good you’re going after your dreams.”
“Did you?”
“Me?” He smiles, and his face lights up. “Been a long time since I was chasing a dream, love. I reckon I did. I came here, joined the Navy, and saw the world for a bit.”
“What did you do in the Navy?” I ask, intrigued. That is on the other end of the legal spectrum.
“I was a medic for eight years.”
“And you enjoyed it?”
“I did. I liked being able to help people. It was a good skill to learn, too. Made me useful and employable, if you know what I mean.”
I nod. “How did you end up here?” I blurt.
He chuckles. “How does anyone? I just kind of drifted this way after I was released. I had a brother who joined the Sin City MC, and it seemed like a good idea. I had others depending on me back then, and we needed stability and support. The Army is good at making you into what they need, but once your time is up, they spit you out unprepared. Used to be getting out was a year-long process with plenty of classes and information. Now it’s condensed into a matter of months.” He shakes his head. “Look at me yammering on.”
There’s pain attached to his words. Was he married? My eyes dart to his bare ring finger. Is he still?
“No.” My cheeks heat. “I like learning more about you.” I let him lead the gurney as we make our way outside.
The joy slides from his face as we reach the back of the van. This is personal. I bite my tongue as he eases the rolled rug out of the trunk and carefully rests it on the metal. Together, we push the body back inside. We pause in front of the crematorium.
“Is it ready?” Preacher asks softly.
“Yes. Do you want a minute?”
“He was a good bloke. I want to send him away the way he would’ve wanted.” He pulls a small bible out of his coat jacket, and my jaw drops.