“Nope. They have kept me out of the loop. They’re checking through all my files, but I can’t think of a single reason as to why they want me gone.” Milner let out a cough after he took a long drag on his cigarette. “Pieces of shit, the lot of them. They just want a bunch of new meat. I’m old news. They want me gone before it costs them more to keep me behind a desk.”

Preacher sat back, watching Milner.

When they had first gotten to know each other, Milner had been a stable cop. He’d never taken a bribe, and before Preacher got his President patch, no one had dared approach Milner. He was always gunning for the Twisted Monsters MC, until Preacher approached him during Milner’s time of need.

Fifteen years ago, Milner’s wife had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and any medical care in the country came at a really steep price. It often sent people into a whole load of debt, and Milner was no different. To save his wife, he’d nearly bankrupted himself, and there was no way to help his wife continue treatment, until Preacher came along. Along with the medical expenses, Milner also had another little problem on the side, gambling. The man, in his misery, liked to visit the races and tables in order to make a quick buck.

Preacher had offered Milner a deal, to look the other way, to let him help take care of the trash, so long as he didn’t get involved with club business. He’d keep him in the know, and also offer him certain details to keep anyone from looking too closely. In return, he paid for all the expenses, built up his savings, and offered him a nice retirement fund for all of his troubles.

At the time, he’d taken an advantage of a broken man, especially since Milner’s wife did not survive in the end.

Preacher hadn’t cared. There were only so many opportunities open to him, and seeing as this was the best one, he’d taken it. What Preacher hadn’t expected over the years was to actually like the old man.

Milner went to his wall cabinet, and Preacher watched as he swung open a picture, and opened up the safe right in front of him. He pulled out several files.

“Here you go. You can do whatever you want with these.”

“What are they?” Preacher asked.

“Old witness statements. Some from your wife.”

“She was never my wife.” He’d never married Flora. He couldn’t stand the woman.

“She’d come to me, but we also got the evidence to prove she went to a rival gang. They must have seen an opportunity and killed her.”

Preacher didn’t dispute the man’s story. He also didn’t know if Milner was being blackmailed or someone was listening to their conversation.

As far as anyone knew, his ex—for some reason they always assumed she was his wife, but he never put a ring on her finger or said any vows—had gone to a rival MC, and they’d killed her.