“Yeah, baby?”
“I want to go see Tennessee.”
Preacher lifted himself just enough to stare at Memphis incredulously. “What?”
Memphis took a deep breath. “I want to go see my dad.”
“I—What? No,” Preacher sputtered, still too cum drunk to articulate the ten thousand reasons why that was the worst idea he’d ever heard. Memphis had to also be equally impaired. There was no other reason for his ludicrous suggestion. No way would Memphis—who’d once had a panic attack at the sound of his father’s name—be casually saying he wanted to go have a conversation with the man. That was insane. It was a suicide mission. “Why would you even suggest that?”
Memphis closed his eyes. “Because it’s time.”
Preacher’s blood curdled in his veins, nostrils flaring at even the thought of Tennessee Camden in the same room as Memphis, even if he was behind a thick wall of glass. The man was a monster. He’d tormented Memphis every day of his life. He’d made him feel worthless and broken…humiliated. The man didn’t deserve Memphis’s time or attention. He stared down at Memphis as every worst case scenario assaulted him. “Time for what? To die? If we go to Arizona, your father will have half a dozen of his goons on you before we’ve left the state.”
Memphis shook his head, setting his jaw. “We don’t know that.”
Preacher gaped at him. “Yes, we do. It’s not safe. Forget the random hitmen gunning for you, he has a whole crew of criminals at his beck and call, even behind bars. They won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I don’t care. I don’t. I’d rather be dead than keep living in this limbo. I just need this to all be over.”
Preacher’s face contorted, his shoulders tight. Memphis had just said he wanted a life together. That he’d wanted the two of them to raise Knox together. Now, he was asking Preacher to agree to this insanity. It was like he’d suddenly lost his mind. “You don’t mean that.”
Memphis nodded vehemently. “I do. I do mean it. I know you don’t get it, but my father has been the monster living in the shadows of my life for years. I’ve given him so much power over me. Even before I came back for Knox, I jumped at every noise, panicked at the scent of gasoline or a revving engine. It was exhausting. Itisexhausting. Now, I’m running from him again and Nash, too. If I don’t stop running, I’ll never get Knox back. I need to see my father. I need to ask him why. Why he did it. Why he hates me. Why he can’t just leave me be. I need to know what it will take for him to stop hunting me. I need to know what he wants.”
Preacher rolled off Memphis and sat at the edge of the bed, his heart thudding against his ribs. He rubbed his hands against his face. “What he wants? He wants youdead.” Even the word made Preacher sick. He jumped to his feet, pacing, needing some outlet for the emotions slamming through him before he punched a hole in a wall. “That’s why he put a hit out on you, remember? There’s not much ambiguity in that.”
“Maybe he was just trying to scare me away?” Memphis asked, some of the conviction in his voice fading.
Preacher snorted. “What part of the two armed gunmen showing up to shoot you is unclear to you? The manisa monster, a literal monster. He beat you for years. He doused you in liquor and set you on fire. Baby, you can’t possibly think that you can reason with a man like that. He’ll just find a way to hurt you, if not physically, then psychologically. You’re being unreasonable, and it’s going to get you hurt, maybe even killed.”
Luke growled low, pulling Preacher’s attention, raising his brows when he saw the growl of warning was directed at him. The dog hopped off the one bed and onto the other, curling himself up against Memphis’s body, staring at Preacher like he was the threat.
One look at Memphis and Preacher realized he was the threat. Memphis now sat with his knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them, hugging himself, leaning into the heavy weight of the German Shepherd as he trembled. He wasn’t looking at Preacher. Instead, he stared at the bottom of the mattress, like the ugly floral comforter was the most interesting thing in the world.
Preacher instantly deflated, moving to Memphis and dropping beside him. “Hey, look at me. I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t mean to raise my voice or yell.” Memphis flicked dull eyes towards him, looking defeated. “I’m not mad at you, baby. I just—” Preacher struggled for words, hands flailing at his sides, before cupping Memphis’s face, forcing his eyes to his. “That man has made your life hell for decades. He doesn’t deserve your presence. The idea of you getting anywhere near him…especially somewhere I can’t be with you… No. No way.”
Memphis’s head thudded against the headboard as he sighed in exasperation. “Now, you’re being unreasonable. If it were you, would you keep running forever?”
“It’s not me. And it’s not unreasonable of me to want to keep you safe. Once you’re behind those bars, I have no control over what happens to you. We don’t know who he has on the inside, if the guards are being paid off. I’ve lived that life. I know how easy it is for accidents”—he hooked his fingers into air quotes at the word accidents—“to happen.”
“The feds have people on the inside, remember? That’s how we knew there was a hit in the first place.” His gaze was pleading now. “He won’t even know I’m coming until the last minute. That’s if I can even get to him in the first place. The only way I’ll make it onto that list is with Jackson’s or Lincoln’s help. You think the agents tasked with keeping tabs on Tennessee are going to let me get killed on their watch? Maybe back in my hometown, but not in the prison.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re safe. You can’t be safe on his turf, and that prison is definitely his turf. Please.”
Memphis had tears in his eyes, but the way his throat convulsed, jaw clenched, told Preacher his lame attempt to put his foot down had failed miserably, leaving him feeling helpless.
“I have to face him sometime. I have things that need to be said,” Memphis said, voice flat.
Preacher scoffed. “Then you can say them at his funeral when they’re lowering him into the fucking ground.”
Memphis gave a watery smile at Preacher’s indignant statement. “I don’t think he’ll be able to hear me then. I need him to hear me.”
“Then maybe I’ll just bury the motherfucker alive so you can say your peace and he can have until his oxygen runs out to think about every fucking mistake he ever made.” Preacher wasn’t in the mood to smile, though he was grateful Memphis didn’t look afraid of him any longer. The thought of Tennessee anywhere near Memphis was like hands wrapped around Preacher’s throat, strangling his sense of reason.
“Whatever happens, you can’t go back to prison. The idea of having conjugal visits in a dirty trailer makes my skin crawl.”
“Cy and Webster said it was kind of hot,” Preacher said, almost as an afterthought.
Memphis shook his head, lowering his legs until they rested across Preacher’s lap. Luke gave one last look at Preacher before returning back to Bo. “I don’t care what they said. Just, no. Besides, you can’t help me parent my brother behind bars. I need you on this side of the prison walls.”
