Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5)

by Rayne, Sara

  “By ratting them out?” Ryker asked. “Ratting my dad out.”

  Cap kept glancing at Goat, as if for permission or confirmation – hell, maybe absolution. But Goat's face was a stone wall. “We were into some bad shit at the time – coke, guns, whatever paid well.”

  “Yeah, but you know what you signed up for,” Axel said. “If you had a beef with how they earned, you shouldn’t have prospected for the Horsemen.”

  Captain nodded. “I know. But I didn’t know how deep this rabbit hole went until I got involved.”

  The fear and desperation in Cap's voice echoed in Shep's soul. But he had to find a way to be fair and even about this. That was his job, his role—his contribution. Hiding his own personal demons made him rather sympathetic to Cap's plight, but if he didn't want the harshest hammer of the Horseman's judgment to land on their—likely former—leader, he had to find a way to help his brothers suss this shit out.

  He spoke up softly, “We all know the club wasn’t what it is today. But why didn’t you try to change it from the inside?”

  Cap held his gaze like it was the last life raft on the Titanic.

  “At the time, I couldn’t think of a better way to solve the problem. The brothers in the club weren’t like any of you. Most of them had drug habits. They wanted to line their pockets. We killed people, extorted people, dealt drugs in neighborhoods.”

  “Fuck you,” Ryker growled. “Yeah, my dad had his troubles, but he was basically a good guy.”

  Shep shot Ryker an eyeful of 'take it easy, man' and Ryker nodded stiffly. Even as a kid, Shep had been well aware of his uncle’s faults. He had doted on Shep mostly to stick it to his self-righteous brother, but it took more than candy, toys and motorcycle lessons to pull the wool over his eyes. Ryker, as the youngest, had remained mostly unaware.

  “I stand by what I said,” Captain said quietly. “Except for Goat. Goat was the only solid member, but he went to jail shortly after I arrived. I couldn’t have changed the club if I wanted to. And there was something else.” Cap paused like he was a kid teetering on the top of a waterslide, wondering whether or not to jump. “Joker was getting ready to sell out the club.”

  Ryker shot to his feet. “You’re a fuckin’ liar. My Dad would never –“

  Damnit. Shepherd reached across the table, grabbed the gavel and smacked it down. The men jumped a little, turning to him. He was certain to Cap the men looked angry, but to Shepherd? They looked scared—none of them wanted to lose Cap. None of them wanted to believe this shit was actually happening.

  But then, none of them had the up close and personal viewpoint on Joker. If they’d known the man the way Shep had. His uncle looked out for himself, first and foremost.

  Shep met each of their eyes in turn. “Everyone cool down. We’re going to hear him out, before we decide what to do.”

  Ryker's glare should have set the gavel on fire, but he sat.

  Captain continued his story, filling them in about Joker banging Loretta Beauregard and trying to jump ships and join the Raptors, selling his brothers out in the process. Then Ryker called him a Rat, but his brother Axel stepped up, backing what Cap said with his childhood memories of their dad and a woman who sounded like Loretta. Goat piped in with a whole mess of drama from the past about Buckley Beauregard hiding his daughter’s death from the Raptors, to keep a war from breaking out between them and the Dixie Mafia.

  So, yeah. Shep could see where a man like Cap—especially all young and idealistic, head over heels for Joker's old lady—made a decision like he did. But it didn't seem like the rest of the table was quite on board for calling it a justified move.

  “That still doesn’t excuse what you did,” Duke said. “You turned your back on your club, went to the feds behind their back.”

  “And we only have Axel’s word for it who was a kid at the time,” Ryker said. “Do you have proof?”

  “No." Cap swallowed hard. “I happened to overhear a conversation one night. We were all at the clubhouse and everyone was passed out, except me. Joker phoned his honey. And I was drunk, but not that drunk. I heard him whispering to her, tellin’ her he was setting up a bogus run for the guys, but I don’t have any hard evidence.”

  Shep surveyed the room, then turned to his mentor, his friend. "Is there anything else you'd like to say?

  He shook his head.

  He looked sad. A practiced eye could see he was a little scared. But he also looked kinda … free. Like something that had been dogging him for years was gone and the relief was tangible.

  Shep wanted to ponder what that might feel like, but now was not the time. He was sure that day of reckoning was coming for him. And he just fucking hoped he was brave enough to handle things with the kind of grace Cap had shown today. Man had balls of steel.

  “Okay then. We have a decision to make." Shep took a breath, the words he was about to speak like ashes in his windpipe. "Will Captain meet the Pale Rider?”

  ‘Meeting the Pale Rider’ was a death sentence vote. This vote was not a decision to be taken likely, nor one that was made often. As of now, only two members held the dubious honor of sporting the Pale Rider patch. The patch designated they had killed on orders for the club. Captain. And Duke—the guy who'd have to kill him if the vote went the wrong way.

  "I'll take him outside while you all deliberate, but I've already made up my mind." Ryker stood.

  Shep sighed. Fucking hothead. Ok, yeah—Cap was currently banging Ryker's momma. And when it came to hatin’ a man who was doing that, Shep couldn’t cast any stones. But there's a time and a place—and a point where you let a fucking thing go, right?

  Like say, when it came to talking about killing a man who had handed you your entire world on a shiny, silver set of handlebars, for instance. Cap had stepped in for Axel and Ryker, taught them to ride, to fight, to drink. He’d been a better father to those two than the disgrace that had sired Shep. He glared at Ryker. "That's a bad fucking idea."

  “Yeah, no shit,” Captain muttered under his breath.

  “I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Ryker promised.

  Maybe this conversation would go better with cooler temperaments in the room. He gave Ryker his 'I will whup your ass, son' face and said, "See that you do."

  Duke handed Ryker some zip ties from his cut pocket and Ryker bound Cap's wrists and marched them out the door. Shep couldn’t help noticing the way Duke’s eyes had become flat like a shark. Somewhere inside, he was already distancing himself from Cap. Just in case. The thought sent a chill through Shep.

  Maybe it was all semantics and at the end of the day, you were damned no matter why you did it. But killing a man in a fit of rage, in a vengeance driven haze was one thing. Planning it out? Killing a friend because you were following orders? Shep didn't think he was made of whatever it took to do that. He didn't want to be.

  "Vote now?" Goat called, eyeing Shep standing near the head of the table, holding the gavel.

  "Talk now," Shep corrected. He couldn't believe this was happening. "Arguments for?"

  "He's a rat," Axel tossed out. "I, for one, believe his story—but that doesn't change the fact that he went to the Feds. Or that he lied to use all these years."

  "How many people died because of that Rico case?" Cowboy asked. "We've all heard the stories—hell, we make the prospects practice reciting it. Everything went to shit cuz of what he done?"

  "Same token, brother,” said Coyote, “It's that tragedy that made us what we are today. The phoenix chapter rose from the ashes of a dead MC. Bigger, Better, Brighter." Coyote sat forward, tapping the phoenix patch on his chest. After the RICO case, Eddie and Cap had rebuilt, re-forged and renamed the Horseman chapter to reflect their struggle and rebirth. "Would we be loyal to the MC if it was still what it used to be?"

  "Here, here." Goat banged his fist on the table. "None of you were here for it, and much as it pains me to admit, Cap was. He wasn't talking shit, that's the way it was. But. He still ratted to the Feds. He ca
n't be President."

  Shep held up a hand. "One vote at a time guys. None of us are down with how Cap handled it. God knows I'd beat the shit out of a prospect that made that decision today." Depending on who it was. "But is it Pale Rider worthy? That's the question."

  "If one of our prospects came to us, told us that a member was dealing coke in our neighborhoods, plotting to kill our brothers to become a Raptor, how long would that member’s Pale Rider vote last?" Voo's soft Creole tones were pointed. "How quick would we be to put that bastard down?"

  "That bastard is my father," Axel's voice was all the more dangerous for being quiet.

  "No disrespect, bro—but I don't think your vote should be considered here," Voo answered.

  "Excuse me?" Axel stood and Shep was reminded that while Ryker might be the hothead of the two, the more dangerous temper was Axel's. Slow burn, long build—exponentially more lethal once unleashed.

  He had learned that the hard way growing up with those two.

  "You can't see an issue like this clearly. It's about your pops, how could you?" Voo was as a calm as a pond in the middle of a fucking meadow. Never rattled. "Nobody expects that of you. But we've got to consider that Cap's tellin’ the truth—especially after what you remembered. And if that's so, we got to consider that."

  "I still get a vote—no matter what my father did!" Axel clenched his fists.

  Ryker chose that part of the conversation to walk into. He exchanged a look with Axel, which apparently included some kind of sibling telepathy, because Ryker turned on Voo and chimed right in with, "You can go fuck yourself!"

  Voo winked at him. "This is usually where I'd make a 'your momma' joke, but it seems poor timing."

  Ryker came across the table, and it was only through the grace of Cowboy and Goat that he didn't get to Voo—who hadn't even bothered trying to get out of the way, was just sitting in his chair, grinning to egg the Rollins’ brothers on”

  Shep nearly choked. "Guys—focus! Anybody else need to say their piece?" When no one spoke up, he continued. "As I said early, ain't none of us think Cap should have ratted. But we all agree, this MC and that one are two different things—almost two entirely different clubs. Agreed?"

  They all nodded, a couple hittin’ their fists on the table to signal assent. Here it was—if he ever wanted a chance to preach, he'd gotten one. And it had to be good enough to save Cap's life.

  "Right now, we're not talking about taking Cap's Prez patch, beating his ass or even stripping his cut." Shep let the horror of having your cut stripped sink in. His throat threatening to close as he considered the very real possibility it could happen to him. "We're talking about killing Cap." He rested his gaze on Duke and let the rest of them follow suit. "About making Duke kill our brother."

  Even Axel and Ryker looked down at the ground, shame hiding in their shoulders.

  "For my part, Cap's never been disloyal to me. Or to the MC as I know it now—to the Phoenix Chapter. We spend a lot of time judging other people—outsiders, civilians, other MCs. But 'think on your sins' is not something we say just to them." Shep jerked his head at the motto on the wall. "Every now and then, it's something we need to do ourselves, especially before we weigh a vote like this. So, I'm asking you now, brothers. Think on your sins."

  He let a few minutes pass in silence, let them consider what they might be hiding. He caught Ryker and Axel's gaze each.

  Then he said, "Vote. All in favor of Captain meeting the Pale Rider?"

  The door banged open.

  Eddie walked in.

  If the Prez gets taken out, the VP steps up until a vote occurs.

  ~FourHorsemen Prospect Handbook

  * * * * *

  Shep's heart ached for Eddie in this moment. And part of him just wanted to cross the room, put his arms around her and make sure she knew she wasn't alone. But right now, he needed to be strong for the men and get the business at hand done. “We’re about to make a decision. You can’t be here.”

  “I’m sorry about barging in, but I have some info you need.” Her eyes widened, her teeth worrying at her lip.

  If Eddie was insisting, this had to be damn important. No one knew more about the rules than her.

  He sighed, then waved his hand. “Okay then. Tell us.”

  “Actually, its somethin’ you gotta see and I’m sorry about this, but Beauregard is gonna be conducting this show and tell.”

  He held Eddie’s gaze, but his mind’s eyes replayed Beauregard beatin’ on Pretty Boy like he was tenderizing meat and anger laced his gut. Shep gritted out, “Motherfucker.”

  Around him chairs, slid back and various swear words echoed through the room.

  "Why the fuck are we inviting Voldemort to this party?" Coyote demanded.

  Duke casually did a weapons inventory on himself. Axel and Ryker stared over their mother's shoulder toward the door like an executioner squad.

  Shep watched Beauregard—the bastard—saunter on in, smirk on his face and malicious amusement in his eyes. He held Shep's gaze as he approached, stopping a few feet back—maybe a respectful difference. Maybe he was smart enough to stay out of arm's reach.

  Shep glared from his position of power at the head of the table. He should say something, but the only words coming to mind were vividly colorful death threats. Somehow I'm looking forward to watching you bleed didn't seem like the appropriate greeting.

  “Evenin.'” He looked Shep in the eye and held up a book, tapping it. “In my hot little hand, is my mother’s journal. The one she kept the year your uncle and the rest of the club got into some trouble with the authorities."

  Shep went to snatch it, but Beauregard must have seen him coming. He held it back. “Not so fast. I need to know you’ll honor the agreement I made with Eddie.”

  “We have a deal,” Eddie gritted out, jaw muscles ticking.

  “As I said, I’m gonna need some assurances.” He looked everyone at the table over. Shep gritted his teeth. “Which one of you boys is takin’ over for Captain?”

  Cowboy, obviously getting impatient, chimed in, “We ain’t exactly decided, but it’s most likely Shep.”

  “That so?” He turned to Shep. “You the new sheriff?”

  "You can just consider me judge, jury and executioner for now." Shep stood, fantasizing about slicing the bastard open as he went toe-to-toe with Beauregard. “What deal?”

  He heard Eddie's despairing gasp echo behind him.

  Beauregard grinned, staring at Eddie. Shep's fists clenched by his sides while the asshole just stood there like sucks to be you guys and shrugged. “Trust me. If you care about your auntie at all, you’ll honor our deal.”

  Shep's gun was cocked in his hand before he fully registered reaching for it. From the chorus of echoing clicks, he and his brothers were of the same mind.

  The bastard held up his hands and laughed. “Easy now. I came here as a courtesy, to help Eddie here out.”

  "What. Fucking. Deal." Shep gritted out.

  “We made a bargain.” Beauregard grinned.

  Shep considered re-explaining the question. With his fists.

  “It’s more like blackmail than a deal,” Eddie said. She stared at Beauregard as if he'd crawled out from under a rock and followed her here. Maybe he did. “I came to the manor to bargain for the journal and one thing led to another. It ended with him shooting the FBI agent with my gun.”

  Shep had heard enough. He shoved Beauregard against the wall, digging his forearm into the bastard's windpipe. He'd never considered ripping someone's throat out with his bare teeth before. “You’re tryin’ to set her up for murder, you piece of shit? I’ll—“

  “What?” Beauregard choked out. “You can’t do a fuckin’ thing about it. The gun’s safe in my vault and the body is hidden by now.”

  "You'd do well to remember what I told you about wrath." Shep had spent a lot of time fighting his inner demons, denying their existence. But in situations like this, they didn't feel like something that needed fou
ght. They felt useful. "My guns are right here and I don't care if they find your body."

  Axel and Ryker stood beside him, the glint of their guns catching in his peripheral.

  Shep forced air into his lungs. He really, really, wanted to fucking shoot this asshole. What was it Pretty Boy had said about a guy needing put down? Beauregard had risen rapidly to the top of his list.

  “If I don’t walk out of here, my people will make sure the FBI gets all the evidence. So basically? Your ass is mine. You’ll cooperate, or she’ll go down for murder.” He paused, grinning. “Of a fed.” Paused again, the melodramatic son of a bitch. He might as well grow a sinister handlebar mustache and twirl it. “In Texas.”

  DNA evidence in the murder of a Fed. They'd crucify Eddie and there wouldn’t be a damn thing they could do—not with that much media attention.

  "Shep," Axel croaked.

  “Fuck." Shep tried to pull it together, looking at Axel and Ryker. Like it or not, the bastard had them all by the short and curlies.

  Suppressing a growl, he shoved the guy away. Beauregard straightened his coat and gestured to the book on the table. "Reed 'em and weep."

  Shep gritted down on his teeth and flipped the book open.

  “I took the liberty of markin’ some pages you might find interestin’,” Beauregard muttered. “I hope you ain’t the shy sort, because my momma held nothin’ back.”

  Shep swallowed his distaste and began to read aloud. They didn't have time play pass the diary of sordid shit. Eddie plugged her ears and looked away. Jesus, that woman was tough. He pushed through it quickly, trying to spare her the indignity, even as he read a lot of really personal shit some woman had written about her husband.

  He rushed through the more lurid descriptions, choking out the passages where she described Joker’s plans to sell out the MC, abandon Eddie and his sons, and start a new life. Forsaking all that Shep had come to hold sacred in his life. The betrayal tasted bitter even just speaking the words.