27. Riley

twenty-seven

Riley

I must have looked toward the hallway one too many times.

"Chapel can last hours, if something big is going on," Kenna piped up from her seat at the small table with us. She expertly ran a polish brush across a perfectly manicured fingernail and held it up for inspection. "And I'd say being chased through town by a bunch of meth heads is a lot."

"There was a fight," I whispered.

"With the peckerwoods?" Dylan popped the top off of a bottle of beer and stashed the flat opener in her back pocket as she sat down. "Or with you and Cam?"

I flinched. "Both."

When they stared at me, I shrugged and gave them the cliff notes version of my argument with Cam.

"He's an asshole." When Kenna flashed her a surprised look, Dylan chuckled. "I can say that. You didn't deserve him being a prick, but he was doing the same thing I tried to do. Warn you off, show you what this life is really like."

I stiffened. "After what just happened, I'd say I've had a really good taste of it."

"And?" Finished with her nails now, Kenna stole my soda and took a sip. "You going to run?"

Leather clad bikers filed out of the hallway. I watched them, prickles of excitement threading through me as I looked for Cam. When I saw him, head low, talking to Merc, I was certain I wasn't scared. "Nope. Not even close."

Kenna whooped a cheer, and Dylan smiled approvingly. Whatever had happened between us was gone. It wasn't just Cam. I was making real friends here for the first time in my life.

I was almost to him, ready to feel his arm draped over my shoulder, to find out what came next before Preacher stepped into my path. The beefy, older man always made me uncomfortable. Today wasn't any different. But the way he looked at me was. Whatever fake generosity he'd shown me at the funeral, even at my father's house, was long gone.

"I heard you were going through Archer's things. Find anything interesting? He's got a lot of shit, I'm sure, especially if you didn't know him." He tried to sound friendly but failed.

All the little sirens inside me that the adrenaline rush of the day brought to the surface revved their engines. I thought of the guns I'd found with Cam, Dylan, and Merc. But said nothing. Sure, the Desert Kings were all about loyalty, but it seemed like Cam and Merc were an island all on their own with this.

I'd protect that.

"Not really. Mostly pictures, clothes."

He grunted like he didn't believe me. And something similar to fear coiled in my belly. Who knew, being scared made me mouthy and left more than a good bit of accusation in my tone. "Maybe whoever broke in found all the interesting things."

I should have looked away, like the frightened cat he wanted me to be, but I didn't.

He kept his composure even as anger flared his nostrils. "You should be hearing from the lawyer soon."

Next week, not that I was telling him that. My intuition was that Preacher was bad news. Cam hadn't come out and said it, but he didn't give me the warm fuzzies AP or the others did. I had a hard time believing this man was Archer's best friend.

"I guess so." Playing dumb, I looked past him to where Merc and Cam had stopped to talk with Dekes.

When I tried to walk away, the large, barrel-chested man wedged himself between me and the hallway. To get away, I'd have to turn back and run back to the girls or shout for Cam, which would cause more problems.

"The club will need to know what's in the will. And I'll need to come by. Archer had some things that belonged to me."

"I'm sure you can talk to Cam about all of that. I'm really not—"

"Cam isn't Archer's kid, darlin. That's you." His bullying tone made me feel sick, my bravado fading.

I glanced over his shoulder, willing Cam to look my way.

"And I'm sure there'll be money. That's why you're here, ain't it? Homeless, looking for a handout."

How did he know anything about me? I'd only told Cam, and if he told anyone, it wasn't Preacher. I grew cold and wrapped my arms around myself to keep my hands from trembling. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either.

"That's not exactly what—"

"The Kings can buy the house from you and any other property he has."

Why did he care so much about buying me off?

"That won't be necessary, really. I'm thinking about staying around for a while."

He snorted and sneered. "Must have found enough to set you up for a while, huh? Feel taken care of now?"

Finally, Cam looked up at me, read the situation correctly, and stalked toward us in a way all too familiar. It was like the bar and the rednecks, round two. "Cam takes care of me just fine."

I pushed past Preacher as he blustered and threw myself down the hall.

I slowed as soon as I got to Cam, wrapped both arms around his middle, under the cut, and plastered myself to him like a horny groupie. He stopped, body hard and tense, expression… worse than it had been today after the chase. This was dangerous, savage, and any other time would make me want him so bad my toes would curl.

But not now.

"Preacher!" he called, his voice hollow and hard.

I squeezed harder. "Not here, Cam. Please."

This was the cold slither of fear snaking around all my possible futures. Preacher scared me, not just physically. There was a meanness to him, one that could lash out and hurt Cam. The bar had shown me a glimpse of what he was capable of. But this was different.

My fear was that Preacher could take him away from me.

To keep Cam Savage, I'd do just about anything.