Priest, p.1
Priest, page 1
Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2024 Winter Sloane
ISBN: 978-0-3695-0976-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Lisa Petrocelli
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To my readers, I hope you enjoy reading Priest and Sadie’s story as much as I loved writing it.
PRIEST
Death Seekers MC, 3
Winter Sloane
Copyright © 2024
Chapter One
Sadie White’s footsteps thudded on the hardwood floor as she rushed into the bathroom, her breaths shallow and uneven. Panic gripped her chest, and with trembling hands, she fumbled to lock the door behind her. Pressing her back against the cold surface, she took a moment to collect herself, but her heart continued to race.
Sadie momentarily shut her eyes, then she took a deep breath. She couldn’t hide in the confines of the bathroom forever. Sooner or later, she would have to face Mason Prescott, the man her father had chosen for her to marry.
At 23, Sadie considered herself an adult capable of making her own decisions. So, why had she agreed to this arrangement in the first place? Sadie scoffed. That answer was easy. Her father always targeted her weaknesses. All he had to do was flash her his big, sad eyes and the moment he uttered the word “debts,” she caved like she always did.
She promised she’d do anything for him. To save his business, he said there was only one solution. Sadie had to marry Mason, the mayor’s son. Her father neglected to mention that Mason was a monster in human skin.
Turning her attention to the bathroom mirror, Sadie winced as the harsh light revealed her face. Sadie didn’t recognize the terrified woman staring back at her.
Her cheek throbbed where Mason had struck her. Sadie didn’t even have time to process what happened. Mason didn’t apologize. He merely stared at her with those cruel green eyes and Sadie knew what her future and her marriage would be like.
She ran her fingers through disheveled hair, frustrated. Sadie wanted to be anywhere else but in that lavish town house, probably a gift from Mason’s wealthy parents. Sadie let out a bitter laugh. He probably had never worked a single day in his life while Sadie juggled two jobs just to pay her rent and support her and her dad.
Heavy footsteps echoed ominously outside the bathroom door, and Sadie’s heart quickened with dread. The sound of the doorknob rattling intensified the unease knotting in her stomach.
“I know you’re in there,” Mason said. “Open this damn door right this instant.”
“Go to hell,” she answered, her words laced with an unexpected defiance.
It surprised even her, this assertiveness she hadn’t known she possessed. Growing up, friends had often labeled her a pushover—a good girl who shied away from confrontation, always compliant.
Only one man had seen a hidden fire within her, but he was long gone now. A fleeting figure from the past, existing only in her memories. Sadie wondered if that man from her past were here now, would he encourage her to keep fighting?
Remembering him sparked a flicker of strength within her. Sadie couldn’t help but imagine his voice whispering words of encouragement: “You don’t have to put up with anyone’s crap, Sadie. You’re strong, but you just don’t know it yet.”
“What did you say to me, you bitch?” Mason thundered.
Pissing him off wasn’t the right move, but if Sadie didn’t make her stand right here and now, Mason would think he could do whatever he wanted with her.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.
Mason laughed. “I’ll do worse if you don’t come out right this instant. You’re my fiancée, Sadie. My bitch. I own you now.”
His words sent a chill down her spine. Sadie felt like an animal caught in a trap.
“Nothing has been finalized yet,” she told him. Who the hell did Mason think he was? What kind of parents raised him to speak that way to a woman?
“You should be grateful,” Mason said. “When your father went to mine, begging for scraps, he reminded me of a kicked dog. You’re just like him.”
“You’re wrong,” she answered back. Sadie clenched her fists by her side. She was so angry, she almost felt like bursting.
Sadie took a deep breath before saying the next words slowly and carefully. “The deal is off, Mason. I have no intention of marrying a pig like you.”
At that moment, Sadie felt reckless and so sure of herself. Screw this and damn her father to hell. Sadie never had the courage to leave her hometown but this might be the right push she needed.
Sadie would pack her bags and tell her old man to go screw himself. Her dad had to make his own bed sooner or later. She could start somewhere fresh. Reinvent herself. Why did it take this long for Sadie to come to this realization?
After her mother passed away from cancer when she was 12, she thought it was her responsibility to take care of her father. It should’ve been the other way around. It was time she took care of herself and focused on her own future.
“Well, too bad, because all the arrangements have been made. My mother paid a shit ton of money to hire the best wedding planner in the country.” Mason’s words dripped with arrogance.
“I don’t give a damn,” Sadie retorted.
Every little girl dreamed of having her perfect wedding day, but being shackled to a man like Mason would be a living nightmare. All her dreams of escaping the suffocating confines of this small town would crumble into dust if she didn’t find a way out of this house.
A glimmer of hope sparked as Sadie remembered her cellphone tucked safely in her pocket. Pulling it out, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the contacts.
A bitter realization twisted in her gut. All her so-called friends had been jealous of her engagement to Mason. They never failed to remind her how lucky she was. She would get no help from them. With a dismissive shake of her head, Sadie scrolled through her contacts, searching for someone she could trust. Finally, she found a number she knew wouldn’t betray her. Emery, her second cousin, stood out as the one genuine friend and confidant in her life.
Knowing that making a call might enrage Mason and escalate the situation, she opted for a quicker, discreet approach. Sadie sent a quick text to Emery: Emergency. Need your help. Meet me ASAP.
Mason’s heavy footsteps gradually faded away, and she grew anxious. Sadie waited, her heart thudding in her chest. The silence hung heavy, pregnant with uncertainty. Had he given up? Was it finally safe to leave?
In the stillness, a distant door slammed shut, a muffled sound echoing through the house. The tension in the air shifted, and Sadie seized the opportunity. Now was the time to move. With cautious steps, she gingerly unlocked the bathroom door. No sound. No movement. Taking a deep breath, Sadie left the safety of the bathroom and began to tiptoe her way down the creaking stairs.
The only thing standing between her and freedom was the front door. Every step felt like an eternity, the seconds ticking away in suspense.
Just as the front door loomed within reach, hope threatened to swell within her. But before she could break into a sprint, an unexpected force jerked at the back of her shirt. A gasp caught in Sadie’s throat as she felt the abrupt tug, her momentum halted abruptly.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Mason whispered in her ear, his grip unyielding as he yanked her close.
The warmth of his breath against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, and the sudden proximity ignited a wave of fear.
****
Sadie’s eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing and her body protesting with every ache. Panic gripped her momentarily as she braced for the possibility of waking up in Mason’s bedroom.
To her immense relief, the reality she faced was different—she found herself in the backseat of a car, though not Mason’s.
“Emery?” she whispered, her voice fragile as she searched the dimly lit space.
“I’m here, Sadie,” Emery’s reassuring voice replied from the front seat.
Every attempt to sit up was met with a series of aches that reverberated through her entire body.
“What happened?” she asked, the words barely more than a breath.
“You don’t remember?” Emery asked.
Sadie turned her gaze toward the window, catching a glimpse of her reflection. The sight made her grimace at the disheveled and battered image that stared back.
“You told me to wait for you outside Mason’s house. I waited and waited. When you finally stumbled out, you looked…” Emery’s voice trailed off, sounding worried.
A flood of memories rushed back to Sadie. After Mason had finished with her, she lay on his bed, pretending to be unconscious. By some miracle, fate intervened. Mason received a call from his father. He left and that provided her with a small window of opportunity.
Summoning every ounce of remaining strength, she gathered herself, and with sheer determination, left the miserable house that would soon become her prison if she didn’t do anything about her engagement.
“I’m bringing you to the hospital,” Emery stated.
“No,” Sadie blurted out.
The mayor’s influence, his pervasive presence in every corner of the town, made the hospital a dangerous option. Trusting the medical staff to be discreet was a gamble she couldn’t afford to take.
“Go to St. Patrick’s,” she instructed. Thinking of the quiet place where she had first met him, a smile appeared on her lips.
“The church? Why there?” Emery questioned, confusion evident in his voice.
Nevertheless, he complied, turning the car around without further inquiry.
“There’s only one man who can help me, but first, I need to find out where he is,” Sadie explained, her thoughts veering toward Silas. The last time she had seen him was five years ago. Practically an entire lifetime.
As Sadie rode in Emery’s car, her thoughts spiraled into the past. Would he even remember her? Silas, the man who had been her refuge all those years ago. She often wondered where he was now, what his life looked like, and whether he ever thought of her. The musings felt like foolish girly thoughts, but the desperation in her current situation led her back to the only person who had heard her and helped her in a time of need.
Lost in contemplation, Sadie must’ve drifted off to sleep, only to be roused by voices.
“You should take her to the hospital,” an older man was saying.
“No, that’s the last place she wants to be,” Emery curtly replied. Thank God Sadie had Energy on her side.
Focusing on the older man, Sadie recognized Father Nick, the parish priest. Her attention sharpened as she overheard the conversation unfolding around her.
“I need to know where he went,” Sadie said.
Father Nick widened his eyes, really looking at her for the first time.
“You know who I am, Father?” she asked, seeking confirmation.
He nodded, a grave expression settling on his face. “Yes, you’re Sadie White. You’re looking for Silas, I assume?”
“It’s important. Please. I need to find him or … my fiancé will end up killing me,” Sadie confessed.
The church stood as a sanctuary, untouched by the mayor’s influence—or at least Sadie fervently hoped so.
Father Nick said nothing. Sadie couldn’t shake the feeling that she was an unwelcome reminder of a past that had brought tumult to his parish. Five years ago, she had cost his parish another priest—Silas.
“I know Silas and you were good friends,” she said. Sadie could hear the plea in her voice but at that moment, she couldn’t care less.
Her head spun, a dull ache gnawing at her senses. Perhaps Emery was right, maybe she did need medical attention. However, right now, she wanted—no, needed—answers.
“We still are,” Father Nick said, a faint smile touching his lips.
For a moment, she thought Father Nick was going to give her bad news, that Silas had passed away.
“Then, you’ll tell me where he is?” Sadie desperately asked. Hope flickered inside Sadie’s chest.
“Sadie, he’s a much different man now,” Father Nick responded, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “I’m not sure you’ll like what you find.”
Sadie shook her head. It doesn’t matter. To me, he’ll always be…” Sadie trailed off, the unspoken words lingering on the tip of her tongue. She hesitated, unsure whether she wanted Father Nick to know how important Silas was to her both then and now.
“I understand. Just be prepared for what you find,” Father Nick said. Then he gave her an address.
Chapter Two
The acrid stench of stale beer lingered in the air as Priest took one last swig from his beer bottle, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat. The crude jokes, raucous laughter, and the sound of rock music blaring from the clubhouse’s speakers seemed to fade into the background. Priest stood up, the worn wooden chair scraping against the concrete floor.
Priest briefly touched the Death Seekers patch on the left shoulder of his leather cut, a reminder of the brotherhood he would die and kill for. He sighed as he made his way through the bar area, nodding to patched members and associates. Some of the prospects couldn’t meet his gaze. Priest didn’t blame them. Some of them probably knew Larry better than he did and they also understood that Priest did the MC’s dirtiest work. Work that stained the soul and sometimes tested the limits of his loyalty, but in the end, Priest always delivered.
He pushed open the heavy door leading to the back of the clubhouse, the harsh neon lights casting a flickering glow over the compound. Priest’s boots crunched on the gravel as he headed to the shed in the back of the compound. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oil and rust. He wished he was back in the clubhouse, where it was warm and beer and inane conversation flowed freely, but he had a job to do.
Priest found the grip of the cold metal gun tucked into the holster at his side. The gun felt heavy when he first started out. In those days, Priest was no better than the wet-behind-the-ears prospects who couldn’t meet his gaze earlier. It still felt heavy.
Killing never got easier, no matter how many times he had done it for the sake of the club.
Spotting him, Larry Martin’s eyes widened. He let out a sound of protest, muffled by the gag around his mouth. He looked miserable and pathetic, tied to a metal chair in the middle of the shed. At that moment, Larry also looked young and miserable. What a waste, Priest thought. Then he reminded himself that this prospect was a traitor in the eyes of the Death Seekers. Larry had left a brother to die, a sin that demanded retribution. As Priest approached the task at hand, he couldn’t help but feel a knot tightening in his gut.
Larry looked at Priest unblinkingly, his brown eyes full of fear. He even pissed himself. Priest plucked the gag from Larry’s mouth.
“You thirsty?” Priest asked.
Larry, who he suspected was about to beg or curse him, closed his mouth, surprised. He seemed to think about it for a second, before nodding.
Still holding his gun, Priest took out a flask from his jacket’s inner pocket with his free hand. With the same hand, he uncorked the flask and tipped it over Larry’s open mouth.
Larry licked his lips after. “Thanks,” Larry whispered.
Priest was momentarily transported to a different time and place. Back then, he’d been a different man, one who gave water to the dying before administering last rites.
He pulled himself away from old memories, then looked Larry in the eyes. “Any last words?” Priest asked him.
“Fuck you and the club,” Larry whispered.
“How unoriginal,” Priest said, raising the gun.
Larry squeezed his eyes shut as Priest took the safety off and fired. At such close range, Priest didn’t miss. Once the task was done, he tucked his gun in his holster and returned to the clubhouse.
Priest could use a drink or two. Once back inside, he gestured toward the nearest prospect.
“Miller, clean the mess in the shed. Make sure the place is spotless when it’s done,” he said. Miller gulped, then nodded.
Priest returned to his usual seat at the bar. Cross, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, soon joined him.
“It’s done?” Cross asked as the bartender set a cold one in front of Priest.
“Sure,” Priest answered.
He doubted he’d get any sleep the next few days. Larry would haunt his nightmares for a while, but give him a week, maybe two, and Larry would just be another ghost.
“You know what you need, Priest?” Cross asked.
“What’s that?” Priest asked, not really paying attention. He drank the entire bottle without pause, but still couldn’t wash the awful taste in his mouth.
“An old lady of your own,” Cross told him.
“While I’m happy for you and Dana, I’m happy with what’s available,” Priest said.
Priest nodded to the two club whores chatting at a nearby table. In truth, he really had no plans of taking a woman to his room tonight, even a willing one.
