a smart man,” he says.
“Preacher?”
“Grave? What the fuck?” I turn to come face-to-face with one of my best friends. He looks me up and down before pulling me into a hug.
“Goddamn, man. We thought you were dead. Shit, you were dead. I fuckin’ checked before Cash made us all leave.” I knew it was my dad. Sick bastard never has liked me or the fact I challenge him at every turn. He needs to be smarter.
“He left me for dead, brother. I was dead. Hospital brought my ass back,” I tell him as he pulls back. He looks over my shoulder at Silla who still has the gun aimed at Preacher.
“You can put that away, darlin’.” She nods and slips the gun into the back of her jeans.
“What the hell is goin’ on?” I ask Preacher but he looks just as clueless.
“I don’t know. Cash is goin’ all kinds of fucked. Psycho is off his meds. Shit’s bad, Grave. I mean really bad.” I can tell just by looking at him, he’s telling the truth.
“And my mom? What the hell is goin’ on with that?”
“Fuck if I know, man. I heard your dad talkin’ and I called Mystic to see if he heard of any hits. He said he’d call me back and the motherfucker just hung up. I assume you two have been in contact,” he asks. I nod my head and run my hand through my hair.
“Yeah. Since I got out of the hospital. Plans all changed, Preacher.”
“Sure the fuck have. We got the motherfuckers who shot you though,” he says with a giant smile. Hate to break it to him but I will.
“No, you didn’t.”
“What do you mean? Colts raided us,” he says, “and we killed them all.”
“Fuck, Preacher. Wasn’t Colts who shot me.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he asks, looking between me and Silla as he shifts from foot to foot.
“It was my dad.”
“What?” I hear a gasp and when I turn, I see my mom standing in the door with her hand over her mouth. Tears fill her eyes, but she doesn’t say another word. She just stares at me like I’m a ghost and I suppose in a way I am. She thought I was dead. They all did.
“Mom,” I say softly. She flies down the step and slams into me, her arms wrapping around my neck as she sobs.
“They said you were dead. Oh my God, Greyson! I thought you were dead.” She cries so hard her body shakes. I hold her tightly when I see Preacher move toward Silla. He’s eyeing her up and down, but he doesn’t make a move to touch her. Good thinking, brother, or I might snap your goddamn neck.
“I’m okay, Mom.” She pulls back and stares up at me, her hands coming to cup my cheeks. Mom never wanted this life for me, but she always knew my path. I couldn’t be anything else. This was it. I was destined to be just like my dad and here I am.
“God, I’m so glad you’re okay, Greyson. What’s happening? Why did he do that? What was he thinking?” She has a million questions, and I’d love to answer every one of them but not standing in the garage.
“You still got the alarm on this house?” She nods her head. “Let’s get inside first. Then we’ll talk.” She nods and pulls away from me but not before hugging me once more. Mom goes in with Preacher behind her. I grab the bag from the bike and usher Silla inside. All eyes fall on her as I close the doors and set the alarm.
“This is Silla. Silla, this is my mom, Bridget and my boy Preacher.” She extends her hand like a polite schoolgirl, which makes me laugh. She is far from polite.
“Nice to meet you.” They both shake her hand but its Preacher’s eyes questioning me. I shake my head slightly and he smirks. Asshole.
“Come on, let’s sit. Do you want something to eat? Drink?”
“No, Mom. We’re good.”
“Greyson! Let her answer for herself. You don’t know if she’s hungry or not,” she snaps. God, I’ve missed her.
“I’m fine, thank you,” Silla finally tells her. Preacher and I share a glance. It’s one of those, I need to talk to you privately glances.
“Nice try. I’m in,” Silla leans over and whispers. She must have caught that interaction. I chuckle and wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her closer into my side before pressing a kiss to the