A Little Bit Wicked - Melissa Foster Page 0,12

Zeke added.

Zeke was the rare combination of smart-ass and genius, though he typically kept his smart-assery under wraps. Women called Baz prime husband material, but Justin thought Zeke would be the first of them to settle down. He’d always seemed more settled than the rest of them. He had a quiet, watchful way about him. Zeke had been a special ed teacher until a guy had made rude comments about “fucking retarded kids” at an event, and Zeke had gone after him. Zeke had lost his job because of the fight, and now he worked with Zander and their father in their family business, Cape Renovations. Zeke also tutored and volunteered at the community center.

“All right, enough.” Preacher glared at Zander and Zeke, and they held their hands up in surrender. “Gunner, how about you answer Cuff’s question? Do you need more help to transport the dogs?”

Gunner stroked the tiny kitten’s back and said, “I think we’re good. But a few extra hands wouldn’t hurt, especially when we get back to the shelter.”

A number of members called out, volunteering to help. Conroy held up his hands and said, “I’ll put together a sign-up sheet and Gunner can answer questions after the meeting.”

Justin’s uncle looked more like an aging movie star than a biker. He had a long, straight nose, wavy silver hair that hung to his collar, and an ever-present smile that set off his dimples. His children had inherited many of his traits, including those dimples. Tank not only shared his father’s burly stature, but also the jet-black hair of Conroy’s youth. Gunner was every bit as cocky as Conroy, and Baz shared his father’s ability to remain calm in any situation. Before the tragic loss of their younger sister, Ashley, she had shared their father’s zest for life, which had made her death even more devastating. Ashley had been the second person Justin had lost to suicide, the first being his birth mother when he was only seven years old.

As Cuffs returned to his seat, Preacher said, “We’re gearing up for the annual Suicide-Awareness Ride and Rally in honor of Ashley Wicked, Conroy and Ginger’s beloved daughter. Ginger is looking for volunteers to help with the event.”

Sadness moved through Justin and through the room, settling heavily around them. The closeness of the brotherhood included sharing celebrations and heartache. Even those who hadn’t known Ashley rallied around their family every year without fail, keeping her spirit alive and helping the family cope with the never-ending sadness of their loss. Preacher had once asked Justin if he’d like them to publicly honor his birth mother at the event, but since he didn’t like talking about his mother’s death, or the circumstances surrounding it, of which even Preacher wasn’t fully aware, he’d passed on the thoughtful offer.

As Preacher went over details for the September event, Justin put a hand on Tank’s shoulder and lifted his beer bottle, mouthing, To Ashley.

Tank tapped his bottle to Justin’s, and they both took a drink.

After the meeting, Gunner and Baz dealt with gathering volunteers for the night of the dogfighting-ring bust, and Zander went across the room to play darts with some of his buddies by the pool tables. Preacher and Conroy made their way over to the table where Justin and the others were sitting.

Preacher gave off an air of authority, exuding the confidence of a man who demanded obedience. He had serious eyes and pitch-black brows and mustache. He wore his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back and kept his silver beard trimmed. Justin hadn’t been sure what to make of the tattooed renovations expert when he’d first met him. But as Justin had gotten to know him, he’d found that Preacher was warm and patient. Preacher could joke with the best of them, but when it came to the safety of his family or his community, he didn’t mess around. Justin had no idea how Preacher and Reba had put up with his shit and his constant running away when he had first come to live with them, but he was thankful they had. Preacher had been more of a father to him in the first month he’d lived there than his biological father had been in the eleven years they’d lived under the same roof. And Reba? She was a godsend. From what he remembered of his birth mother, he had a feeling the two would have gotten along like sisters. Reba, being the stronger, older sister who would have looked out for

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