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Entering the bathroom, he found much of the same. Drawers laid open, one was pulled completely out of its slot and left on the counter. Makeup was crushed into the tile from her rushing to get every single thing. The bathmat had shampoo spilt on it. She probably managed that when she grabbed the bottle from the shower and didn’t bother closing the lid tightly.
Standing in the middle of all the mess, Preacher pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was too damn tired to clean up after her. Tomorrow, he’d deal with it. It would help him close the door on the entire situation.
“Holy shit,” Bones commented loudly at seeing the mess left by Tornado Jack.
At the sound of his brother’s voice, Preacher spun around. “Are you trying to get shot?”
“You can’t shoot me without this.” Bones handed Preacher his weapons. He’d had them since the hotel. “Man, she was hell-bent on getting everything tonight.” Bones walked back into the bedroom, taking in the scene. It looked like a bad robbery.
“Come on, let’s get this shit cleaned up,” he told Preacher.
“Not tonight. I’m too tired, Bones.”
“Conlyn’s out of town with Quinn at a chocolate convention. You go hit the shower in the spare bathroom, and I’ll clean this mess up for you.”
Rubbing a hand over his face, Preacher wasn’t sure what Bones’s intentions were. “Are you staying here tonight?”
“Yes,” Bones responded as he pulled out his phone.
Preacher watched Bones as he checked a message. “Wrench made it home,” Bones said, shoving his phone away.
“Hell, he made it fast,” Preacher mumbled.
Bones stood staring at the mess. “It’s not like you two live far apart.”
“True,” Preacher said, leaving Bones alone in the master bedroom.
Preacher walked into the spare bedroom to make sure the bed had linens and found boxes and bags full of clothing with tags on them, all merchandise she had never put out in the shop. Turning around, he headed back to his room and found Bones picking up coat hangers. “Hey.”
“Yeah,” Bones answered, looking up.
Preacher stood in the doorway, shaking his head at the entire situation. “Let’s go crash at your place.”
Standing, Bones was curious about his brother’s decision to stay elsewhere. “Why? Is the other room a mess too?”
Rubbing the small scar, he answered Bones. “No. It’s full of merchandise she never put in the shop to sell.”
“Did you not go in there?” Bones wanted to shake Preacher and ask him what the fuck happened during the relationship. His behavior was nothing like him.
“Evidentially not enough,” Preacher said.
Bones saw his brother was at a crossroads and he didn’t like what he was seeing. Preacher had always been the fixer, the protector. The one to stand in front of everyone and take the punches. Bones knew his brother had tried everything to make it work with Jack. Why, was the big question, when it had been obvious to everyone else she didn’t want to be there. Not with Preacher, just his bank account. The girl wasn’t a horrible person. She just needed someone who would put her in her place.
Preacher wasn’t the guy to do that. He swore he wouldn’t be the kind of man their father had been. He’d never wanted a long-term relationship. Hell, Preacher hadn’t wanted more than a one-night stand. No complications, no questions except what’s your name and your place or mine. He was one hundred percent a hit-it-and-quit-it guy.
When he got mixed up with Jacqueline Landry, Bones could tell it was no more than a hot flame that burned bright for a minute and then quickly sputtered out as fast as it had struck. Preacher had been the one who didn’t want to let it go, who didn’t want it to fail.
“Sun’s gonna be up soon. How about we just hit the clubhouse for a few hours and see who comes around?” Bones looked around the room. “This shit isn’t going anywhere.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
ChapterNine
The sign that stretched across the top of the wooden building readMuther’sbracketed by checkered racing flags. The ladies who worked and ran Muther’s were all former military. Each one had their own story to tell. Some were grunts who had seen more than their share of combat, a few were special ops, and one or two had been trained as snipers. They had met one another under unique circumstances and bonded over war stories.
When Temple came across the old racetrack and property for sale, she had pitched the idea to the other ladies. Pooling their money together, they bought the property and began restoring the building. Now, Muther’s was a thriving business. The ladies had turned it into a bar and grill, and they hosted stock car racing on Saturdays. They ran a tight ship, only employing former military. The only person who wasn’t military was Whip’s baby brother, Glitch.
Whip had given the kid the nickname when they were little due to him stuttering when he got nervous or when he was put in extremely stressful situations. Most people thought they were cruel calling the seventeen-year-old the name, but what was worse, Glitch or his real name, Merle?
