Javier laughed. “You know he loves you.”
Lawson looked at Javier with wide eyes. The boy had done hard time supposedly for cooking meth, but Preacher had a hard time believing it. The kid was smart, freaky smart, too smart to be cooking dirty drugs in a rusted out trailer in West Virginia. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but Lawson had never once said he hadn’t done it.
“Guys, we’re not killing anybody unless we have to,” Linc snapped. “Nicky, you gather what you have into some kind of cohesive narrative that I can take to my friend at the DOJ. Preacher, you head back to the local safe house with Memphis and just keep him from doing anything stupid. Take one of the company vehicles since we know they’re not tagged. Those guys found you, so we can’t rule out that they tracked your truck somehow.”
"I doubt it. If they were tracking my truck, why did they wait so long to try to come for us?”
Jackson shook his head. “No idea, but I’m not willing to risk it.”
Preacher had no idea why these men were willing to risk anything for them at all. It didn’t make any sense. He understood that Cy was his friend and Nicky was his husband and they were loyal to Nicky, but it still seemed surreal that these people would expend this kind of time and energy to help him or Memphis, but Preacher was in no position to be proud or turn down their help.
“Javier, reach out to your prison contacts and just…see who Tennessee has made friends with in there. Is it the guards or is he working with the brotherhood? Don’t doanythingelse unless I say,” Jackson said before tacking on, “Please.”
Javier grinned, then looked to Lawson. “Come on, man. Ms. Pam is expecting us for dinner.”
The two made the world’s most unlikely duo, but they were currently sharing a shitty one bedroom apartment in LA, one of them sleeping on a pull-out sofa. That they ate dinner with Pamela and her wife most nights was even more bizarre to Preacher, but nothing about their strange little extended family made a whole lot of sense. But he suddenly wanted to get back to it. More than anything.
“Look, man. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Tennessee is going down, and when he does, I don’t think Nash is going to come looking for you and Knox anymore,” Cy said, patting him on the back. “But still, I’m going to keep eyes on Nash’s little dog fighting brain trust now that they’re out on bail. The idiots tend to flock together at Nash’s old place and still have no clue it’s bugged. So far, none of them seem to give a shit if he ever returns, but maybe they’ll fuck up and say something useful.”
* * *
The door to the safe house had barely closed before Memphis had turned on Preacher, sealing their mouths together, his hands reaching for Preacher’s belt buckle even as Preacher fumbled for the lock, bolting them in. Memphis dropped to his knees, yanking Preacher’s jeans and underwear out of the way, taking his soft cock into his mouth and sucking him in long slow pulls that had Preacher’s head falling back against the door.
Memphis ran his blunt nails along Preacher’s thighs before gripping his ass and pulling him forward, like he was trying to get Preacher to get with the program and use him. He should tell him to slow down or stop. They needed to talk, to just do something about the situation at hand, but it was impossible to think with his dick disappearing between Memphis’s lips.
Preacher snagged his fingers in Memphis’s hair, holding him still so he could fuck his mouth, groaning when Memphis’s throat convulsed around the head of his cock, watching as he plunged his hand into his sweatpants, working himself as he sucked him. Christ. “I’m not going to last.”
It was true. Preacher had been wholly unprepared for Memphis’s attack and having him on his knees for him, now licking along his shaft, moaning against his balls, his free hand teasing the furrow between his cheeks, it was too much. Preacher pulled Memphis’s head back. “Open up for me, baby.”
Memphis tipped his head back, lips parted, tongue out, pupils blown as he pleasured himself, looking up at Preacher with those big blue eyes. Fuck, he loved him so much. Preacher jerked his cock hard and fast, his free hand clenching Memphis’s hair, holding him in place as he came, his cum spilling onto Memphis’s tongue, his cheeks, his hair, before he pushed his cock back into his mouth. Memphis sucked him greedily until Preacher couldn’t take it anymore, dragging him to his feet and shoving his hand into his sweatpants only to find his cock soft and sticky.
“Did you come while you were blowing me?”
Memphis kissed Preacher, letting him taste himself. “What can I say, servicing you makes me horny.”
“I’m not complaining. I was just…surprised. Can we talk now?”
Memphis rolled his eyes. “No. We can’t. I’m going to shower and then we’re going to eat dinner and watch some television and then you’re going to fuck me until I can’t remember my own name and then we’re going to sleep. In the morning, after I’ve eaten breakfast…then we can talk.”
Well, alright then. Memphis obviously wasn’t okay. Usually, he hated being kept in the dark and wanted an update on every phone call. Memphis wasn’t zen, he was in denial. Preacher sighed. Part of him was relieved that he hadn’t just given up entirely, while the other part feared he’d revert back to his quiet, sullen ways. But that was tomorrow’s problem. The least he could do was give him one night of peace before they talked about everything discussed at the office.
* * *
Preacher blinked himself awake to the sound of the phone ringing. He glanced at the clock on the side table, blood running cold as he noted it was well after midnight. Memphis shifted, sitting up, just as Preacher answered the call. “‘Lo?” he managed before clearing the sleep from his voice.
“Preacher? It’s Calder. We got a big problem.”
The tension in Calder’s normally slow as molasses drawl had Preacher awake in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
Preacher could see the color drain from Memphis’s face even in the dim moonlight cutting a swatch across their bed.
“It’s Knox. He's gone.”
“Gone?” Preacher repeated.
Memphis couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he sucked in a breath at the word gone, drawing his own conclusions. “What? Is it Nash? Did Nash take Knox?”
Memphis jumped out of bed, shoving his legs into his discarded sweatpants as Preacher hit the button to put it on speaker. “I don’t think it was Nash. Not directly, anyway. There’s a note.”
