Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  She had a feelin’ they were about to have a big relationship talk. Captain wanted to go out with her. She’d known it for years. Hell, decades. When he’d been a prospect, he had eyes for her, but she’d chalked it up to a harmless crush. And when he’d gotten married, she thought he’d get over it.

  He hadn’t.

  With Joker in jail and the two of them in working in such close proximity, the sexual tension had always been there in the background. She’d tried to laugh it off, ignore it. But it was always there between them, unspoken.

  This had been coming for a long time.

  She should shoot him down and stop this once and for all, but she hesitated. Part of her enjoyed the flirtation. Sometimes, she played with the idea of taking it to the next level, seeing what happened. It had gotten her through some long, lonely nights.

  He selected another tune. Wild Horses by the Stones started to play. “You like this song?”

  She nodded. “Love the Stones.” Eddie had a thing for seventies rock in general, Queen in particular. She’d even named Ryker, Freddy Mercury Rollins, much to his chagrin.

  “We danced to it once. Do you remember?”

  She didn’t have a clue. “Did we?”

  He nodded, a sad smile on his face. “Yeah, at Viper’s wedding.”

  Viper, one of former members, had gotten married in eighty-one shortly after she and Joker got hitched. She barely recalled that night. She and Joker had gotten blitzed on bourbon before they went to the reception.

  He filled in the gaps for her. “Joker was so wasted he couldn’t walk and you wanted to dance, so I obliged you. You had on this long, red dress.” He licked his lips. “And you wore your hair down. It fell to the middle of your back and I kept brushing my fingertips against the strands. They felt like silk.” He held out his hand to her. “Come here. Dance with me again. I need to feel you in my arms.”

  She stared at his big, warm hand for a moment. God, she really wanted to. It would feel so damn good to be held, but she stepped back. “I think that’s a bad idea.”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “No harm in a little dance.”

  Before she could stop herself, she’d slipped into his arms. She’d worry about the fallout later. They slowly moved across the dance floor and she relaxed in his arms, listening to Mick Jagger’s raspy voice as he sang about a lover slipping through his hands.

  “You look just as beautiful tonight as you did back then,” Captain whispered, his mouth against her ear. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as they effortlessly moved across the floor.

  Eddie knew she was leading him on. She shouldn’t be doing this. “This is only a dance. Nothing more.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. It could be the beginning of something fucking fantastic. Give us a shot. See what happens.”

  She forced herself to say the words. “You need to stop pursuing me.”

  He laughed bitterly. “I can't. Believe me, I‘ve tried, but I can’t get you out of my head.”

  “Why?” She honestly didn’t understand his fixation. “I don’t get it. I’m an older old lady. If Ryker and Elizabeth get their act together, I’m gonna be a grandma soon. What the hell do you want with a grandmother?”

  He chuckled. “If you didn’t notice, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m not that awkward prospect who followed you around like a lovesick puppy.”

  There were many words she’d use to describe him and awkward wasn’t one of them. He was bossy, stubborn, and okay…hot. “You’re what…fifteen years younger?”

  “And?”

  “You could have any of the young hellions hanging around the club. Why the hell are you tryin’ to date me?”

  “Because I don’t want any of them.”

  “Liar.” She tossed her head to the side, glaring up at him. What man wouldn’t want a girl half his age? Wasn’t that a big ego stroke? “You could have a trophy on your arm, maybe even start a family again.”

  He grimaced. “Oh, hell, no. I’ve been there and done that. I love Lex. She’s the best damn thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I’m done raisin’ babies. If she sees fit, I’d like a grandkid or two. Not for a few more years, though.” Then, he raised a brow at her. “Besides, I’ve always wanted a Mrs. Robinson.”

  She laughed, despite herself.

  “I’m serious! I used to fantasize about you comin’ on to me when I was a prospect. And I’ve been a monk these past couple of months because I’ve been workin’ up the nerve to ask you out.”

  Eddie had heard the rumors, but she’d never seen him so much as glance at a hellion. “Yeah, I bet you’re aren’t’ always pure and innocent.”

  His eyes danced. “What happens on a run, stays there. That’s why I haven’t fucked around with any of the girls here.”

  “Be still my heart.”

  His hand slipped lower on her back, grazing her ass, and she tugged his wrist, until he moved it up. He smirked at her. “We both know if I fucked one of them and then tried to take you out, you wouldn’t give me the time of day, would you?”

  Dammit. He knew her a bit too well.

  “No, I wouldn’t put up with it.” She couldn’t tolerate cheating. Early on in her relationship with Joker, she’d made that clear. And she’d never caught him with anyone. “But you and I aren’t dating.”

  “Not yet,” he insisted. “I don’t even fuckin’ notice anyone else. I want what I want…and what I want, Eddie, is you.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead and she shivered.

  She ducked her head. “Captain, we can’t.”

  “Why? Give me one good reason and don’t say the age thing because that’s a non-issue.”

  “It would feel like I’m being unfaithful to Joker,” she whispered. That was the truth of the matter and the real problem.

  His features tightened. “Unfaithful, to him.” There was a strain in his voice, she didn’t quite understand. He sucked in a breath, studying her face. “Eddie, he’s no longer among the livin’. You can’t cheat on a dead man.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “You like me,” he insisted pulling her closer, so her breasts rested against his chest.

  Her head was swimming. He felt good, smelled good, and he seemed so damn sincere. And, yes, she liked Captain, always had, and Lord knows the man was attractive, but he was cocky. “I do,” she said cautiously.

  Then, he pleaded his case.

  “Good. Then, let’s see if we hit it off. Come on. Let’s try something. One date. One goodnight kiss. If it doesn’t work between us, I’ll back off and we can pretend this never happened.”

  She hadn’t gone on an actual date in years. Would it be so bad if she indulged herself for one night? Flirted a bit? She could shut this down afterwards, tell him it wasn’t going anywhere. Surely, it had to be better than dodging the topic, and then avoiding him altogether.

  Or maybe, you want an excuse to go out with him.

  And this was a guilt free way of doing it. Regardless, before she could talk herself out of it, she agreed to his proposition. “Okay, one date.”

  “And a kiss,” he said, raising his chin. His eyes blazed blue fire down at her.

  Her tone held a warning. “Don’t push it, Captain—”

  “But you can’t decide if you want to buy a car, unless you kick the tires.”

  “And a kiss,” she agreed, with a gusty sigh.

  His smile was as wide as the state they lived in. “Now, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here, Killer Queen, before you change your mind. We’ll make plans tomorrow.”

  After pressing a kiss to her hand, he slowly sauntered to the door, looking every bit the swaggering alpha male. He paused at the door, turning to her for a moment and then paraphrased Wild Horses. “We gotta do a helluva lot of livin’ before we die.”

  With a wink, he left.

  Chapter Five

  Eddie finally got home around three in the morning.

  She tossed her keys on the
table by the door and was about to head upstairs when she heard a knock at the door. Ruby howled in protest and she quickly shooed the dog upstairs. It was too late for visitors. Besides, if Ryker or Axel had come by, they would have walked in. So would Shepherd, for that matter.

  For a moment, she wondered if it was Captain, but he would have called her name by now. Showing up on someone’s doorstep at this time of night could only mean trouble.

  The question was, which kind?

  She hit the light switch on the wall, illuminating the porch, and peered through the peephole to find Byron Beauregard standing on her welcome rug.

  She reared back with an indrawn breath. It was like finding a rattlesnake curled around your coffee pot. And, frankly, she’d rather deal with the snake.

  She had an inkling why he’d come to see her. The moonshine business had steadily grown these past few months. She’d bet her buttons it had cut into Beauregard’s profits. The family had been bootleggers since the prohibition days—among other criminal activities.

  Shit.Shit. Shit.

  She grasped her Colt, pulling it from her purse. She always kept a gun for protection. Not to mention a Louisville Slugger in the bedroom closet. The Horsemen had many enemies and most of them were spineless enough to come after an old lady, instead of one of the brothers. Especially an old lady who lived alone.

  With a sigh, she slid the lock out of place, and opened the door, but she kept the gun at her side. While she doubted he’d ring the doorbell and then kill her, it was better to be safe than dead.

  Byron was a gorgeous, blond man in his early thirties, roughly the same age as her sons, with piercing blue eyes. You might say they were heavenly. So big and light blue, they had an innate purity.

  His eyes were the only thing pure about Byron.

  Like his poetic namesake, Byron Beauregard, was mad, bad, and dangerous to know. His family had an unholy alliance with the Dixie Mafia. According to rumors, they were into all kinds of illegal activities – drugs, murder for hire, extortion, and who knows what else.

  All of the Beauregard boys had B first names: Branson, Braxton…blah blah blah. And every single one of them a bastard. Look at that, another B. Not in the literal sense, of course. All of them were conceived in wedlock, but still…they had a dickish way about them.

  She usually saw him strolling around town in an expensive suit but inexplicably, he wore a tuxedo tonight. Like Satan in a Sunday hat. He offered a cocky grin through the screen door and for a moment she was struck by his good looks. He was so excruciatingly beautiful. Seriously, it almost hurt to stare at him.

  Although, the devil had once been God's chosen angel—handsome, intelligent, and utterly perfect. Until, he fell from grace.

  And woe betide the world.

  “Good evenin’, Mrs. Rollins,” he drawled.

  “Evenin’. You’re a tad overdressed,” she remarked.

  He ran a hand down one satin lapel. “I just came from a weddin’ in Dallas and I didn’t have time to change. I’m sorry to be callin’ so late, but I saw your light was on, so I figured you’d be up.”

  Good manners warred with her natural impatience. Southern hospitality dictated she invite the gentlemen in and make polite small talk, maybe offer him a drink. But she felt more like ordering him off her property at gunpoint. An intolerance for assholes was a potentially lethal flaw of hers. Her mouth had gotten her in trouble more times than she could count.

  But southern hospitality won out. For now.

  She stepped back from the door, the screen creaked as she opened it. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Beauregard. Do, come in.”

  He eyed the piece in her grip, but she didn’t see the slightest trace of fear in his gaze. “Do you always answer the door with a weapon?”

  She flashed a toothy grin. “I surely do, Mr. Beauregard. Except on Halloween, it scares the kids.”

  His smile was slow and sweet as molasses. “No need for formalities. Call me Byron.”

  Well, dammit. She couldn’t insist on decorum now. “Please call me Eddie.”

  He scanned her foyer, missing nothing. “Nice place you have here, Eddie.”

  She owned a large white colonial house with an enormous wraparound porch, complete with a swing and big comfy-looking rocking chairs on the front porch. Of course, it looked like Barbie’s dream house when compared to the Beauregard family mansion.

  “Thank you,” she said politely, though she honestly didn’t give a damn what he thought about her place. “May I get you somethin’ to drink?”

  “Actually, I was about to offer you a refreshment,” he said, tapping a black bag suspended from one of his broad shoulders. “I brought drinks with me.”

  She quirked a brow. “By all means, let’s whet our whistle.”

  He trailed her into the kitchen and in a few moments, they were both seated at the small table by the window. She placed the gun to her left, keeping it within easy reach. Byron withdrew two capped quarter-pint Mason jars with a reddish liquid in them, as well as a larger quart-sized Mason jar full of clear fluid. The larger jar had a black label which read: Crossroads Moonshine.

  “I took the liberty of making us cocktails,” he said, as he added a shot of moonshine to each of the smaller jars, before pushing one of them her way. “It’s a mix of grenadine, some blackberries, and a squeeze or two of lemon juice.” He winked at her. “I call it Devil’s Brew.”

  How…appropriate. And it matched his devil-may-care smile. “What should we drink to?”

  “To new beginnings,” he said with a smile, as he clinked his glass against hers.

  She took a sip and placed it on the table. The ‘shine was good, clean tasting, if a bit weak. She favored the high octane variety.

  “You know,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “My great granddaddy started making moonshine way back in the twenties. Family legend says he went down to the crossroads in town, made himself a deal with the devil one night for the recipe.”

  Hell’s crossroads were infamous and people came from miles around on spooky holidays like Halloween and Friday the 13th to work a little mojo. She considered the folktales to be a load of crap, but Voodoo put stock in it. In fact, on what he deemed to be more magical days, he wouldn’t go anywhere near them. Voo believed they were supernatural spaces, where two directions converged, and bad “energy” was amplified.

  She tried to appear interested in his story. “You don’t say?”

  He nodded. “That’s why he used to scratch a pentacle on every single jar he sold. To give the devil his due. And it worked, because his business grew and soon he delivered ‘shine to three counties, with the help of his brothers.”

  She sat there, drumming her fingers on the table. She’d heard this a time or two.

  “Tell me, have you ever made a deal with the devil?”

  Suddenly, her palms began to sweat, and she dragged them down her pant legs. “Can’t say I have.”

  He fixed his eyes on hers, unblinking, and a tremor ran down her spine.

  “You’re about to.” He gave another slow grin. “I do believe you know why I’m here.”

  “I got no earthly idea. Educate me,” she said, lifting her chin. Oh, she wanted to make him say it. Call it vanity, but she loved that her side business caused him some trouble.

  “First, I want to congratulate you on your success. I’ve had the opportunity to taste your moonshine and I must say it’s a cut above.”

  Her mouth fell open. Congratulate me? Frankly, she’d expected some intimidation from him, maybe a threat or two. “Who says I make moonshine?” she said coyly.

  He winked at her. “Why, of course you do. Everyone knows that.”

  “Do they?”

  He forged ahead. “In fact, I’m so pleased with your achievement, I came here to proposition you.” He leaned forward, placing his hands over hers on the table and she hastily slid them away.

  She frowned as she thought about the circumstances of his visit. He’d come here
late at night, dressed up. Was this was some sort of come on? “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He tilted his head to the side and licked his lips, real damn slow, the gesture chockfull of sex. His gaze traveled over her body leisurely, letting her know he found her desirable. “I’m open to any suggestion you might have. Anything spring to mind, ma’am?”

  She sensed the flirtation was meant to throw her off guard and…well, it worked. Actually, it made her skin crawl. She fixed him with a reproving look, which would have made both of her sons sit up straight in their chairs, but it didn’t deter him. “No thanks. You’re a bit wet behind the ears for my taste.”

  He chuckled. “My loss, I’m sure. So, now that pleasure is off the table, let’s talk business. I think we could make some beautiful ‘shine together.”

  “You make your own,” she said, glancing at the bottle. “Judging by the fancy label and the anemic alcohol level, you’ve gone corporate.”

  He smirked. “Guilty as charged. Since my dad passed away, I’ve taken the helm of the family business. I’ve been evaluating our resources and restructuring, shall we say.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Buckley’s passing.” She really wasn’t, but it was the polite thing to say. He’d died in prison, after doing a long stretch for killing Byron’s mother, Loretta, in a jealous rage. Everyone gossiped about her stepping out on him. There’d even been rumors she’d planned on leaving town with another man. Eddie hadn’t heard the whole story, though. With two little ones to raise at the time, she’d had her hands full.

  And as far as Eddie was concerned, that didn’t earn Loretta Beauregard a bullet to the back of the head. Buckley was a jealous, misogynistic asshole and she’d hoped some big guy in prison made him his bitch.

  His features sharpened, eyes turning cold. “No, you aren’t. No one really is. Not even me.”

  Okay, she’d trundled into a boatload of his daddy issues. “I see.”

  His well-bred veneer snapped back into place and he beamed at her, sweet as pie again. “We’ll be breaking ground for a distillery at the end of the month. So, we’ll be strictly legit on the liquor front, no more bootlegging.”