It irritated Preacher that Linc said it like he knew that wasn’t what Preacher wanted. “Memphis isn’t going anywhere without me.”
“Told you,” Nicky said, looking a bit smug for Preacher’s liking. “Give them one of the safe houses way up north. Take them completely off the grid while the FBI tries to take down the MC. Please, Jack?”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah. I know a place. It’s way off-grid but still functional.”
Preacher scoffed. “I spent the last twenty years in a six by eight cell. I think I’ll be okay.”
Preacher would be fine in a one room shack in the middle of nowhere. It was Memphis he worried about. Convincing Memphis to leave his baby brother in the hands of strangers to go live off grid with Preacher was going to take far more persuasion than he possessed. Memphis hardly trusted himself and his brother to Preacher; now, he was going to ask him to put his faith in a group of strangers. Hopefully, he’d see it was for the best.
Preacher didn’t want to leave Knox behind any more than Memphis did, but they were right about how the separation would keep Knox safe. But Knox was more than just Memphis’s brother or a good kid. He was the perfect distraction and barrier to keep Preacher from putting his hands all over Memphis.
Especially after last night.
Not the kissing or the feel of Memphis grinding and moaning against him on the swing. That had been hot as hell, but it was what happened later, after he’d gone to bed, that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Preacher had gotten up to close the door so the light from the living room wouldn’t disturb Memphis. That was when he’d heard Memphis shifting restlessly and making soft whimpers.
At first, Preacher had thought he was having a nightmare, but that wasn’t it. Memphis had been on his back, hand in his pants—Preacher’s pants—touching himself and whispering Preacher’s name. It was the single hottest thing Preacher had heard in all his life. He’d practically had to stick his dick in the ice cube tray to calm down after that.
He’d never say anything to Memphis. The boy already acted like he was hideously disfigured, like there was no way Preacher could ever look past whatever scars laid beneath his clothing, but it just wasn’t true. Feeling Memphis writhing on top of him, his warm body pressed against him, Preacher hadn’t given a single fuck about the damaged skin beneath his fingers. He’d only wanted to make Memphis feel good in any way he’d let him.
Being trapped alone with Memphis in the middle of nowhere seemed like both a blessing and a curse, and Preacher prayed he had the patience to get through it, for both their sakes.
“Yeah, okay. I think you’re right,” Preacher finally said. “But it’s going to take all of us to convince him to leave his little brother behind.”
It was Jackson who stepped forward. “Lead the way.”
“No. No way. Absolutely fucking not!” Memphis said in a stage whisper.
They stood in Preacher’s bedroom with the door closed. The rest of the group was still in the kitchen where they’d found him with Wyatt and Day. When Preacher had asked to talk to him alone, Memphis had worried he would kick them out. It never occurred to him that he wanted to give Knox to strangers. It was fucking madness.
“Just hear me out,” Preacher said. “You don’t know the whole story.”
“What story could possibly justify me leaving my massively traumatized baby brother to deal with the rest of my psycho family and a violent group of fucking gangbangers? He needs me,” Memphis said, his voice hitching at the end.
Jesus, if he cried again, he was going to toss himself out of a fucking window. He needed to calm down. He couldn’t keep falling apart in front of this man or nobody would ever think he was strong enough to take care of his brother.
Preacher stepped closer, his hands gripping Memphis’s forearms. The feel of their skin touching sent a thrill through Memphis’s blood, but when Preacher used his thumbs to rub soothing circles on the delicate inner skin there, Memphis’s cock took notice. “Of course, he needs you. This isn’t about that.” He took a deep breath, his golden green eyes pools of earnest. “I need to tell you something, but first, I’m going to ask you to do something really hard.”
Memphis could feel his chest tightening and tears pricking at the back of his eyes. “What?” he said, voice thick.
“I need you to trust that I will keep you safe. Do you believe me?”
He blinked fast, praying the wetness would dry or something, but there was a golf ball lodged in his windpipe. How could Preacher ask him that? “I—” He shook his head, tears trailing down his cheeks. “I believe that you believe that.”
Preacher’s hands moved to Memphis’s cheeks, wiping his tears, before forcing him to meet his gaze. “Please, don’t make me have to try to explain why I feel so protective of you and your brother. I don’t understand it anymore than you do. I know you don’t think anything can stop your family, but the FBI is already on it. They have people on the inside getting information that’s going to help put them away for good.” Preacher took a breath, and Memphis’s stomach fell to his feet. “But those same people on the inside are saying that your father has put a hit out on you. Just you. Do you understand now why we need to send Knox somewhere safe?”
Memphis’s knees gave out, his vision going fuzzy at the edges as he tried to force air into his constricting lungs. His father wanted him dead. It wasn’t hyperbole. His father wanted to kill him. Why? Why did he hate him so fucking much? Why did Memphis care? Why did it fucking hurt so bad? Preacher was talking to him but he sounded like he was calling from the other side of the world.
Memphis was on the floor now, on his knees, and Preacher was in front of him. Then, suddenly, Preacher’s lips were on his, the warmth against his mouth shocking his system, forcing him to suck in a breath before he melted against the older man. Preacher didn’t try to deepen the kiss or press his tongue into Memphis’s open mouth; he just placed kisses on his lips, gently biting his bottom lip until Memphis was clinging to his shirt and moaning.
When Preacher pulled away, Memphis stared, dazed. “Why’d you do that?”
“You were having a panic attack,” Preacher said, stating the obvious.
“So, you decided to kiss me?” Memphis murmured, his whole body feeling warm and tingly, liked he’d just stepped out of hot water into cold air.
“Kissing was the only thing I could think of that might distract you enough to pull you out of your downward spiral.”
Memphis was tired. He was so tired of being afraid of the men in his life. “Do you really trust these people with my brother?”
