Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4) (11 page)

“Night, Captain.” She switched off the lamp on the nightstand and snuggled beneath the covers. Funny. She felt safe with him. If Beauregard came for her tonight, Captain would protect her at all costs. She hadn’t experienced that kind of chivalry from a man not related to her in a long time. And it felt good, reassuring.  

They lay there in the dark together. Not speaking. She scarcely dared to breathe.

“One last thing. Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked.

How should she answer that?

Beauregard was gunning for her, the feds wanted to rip her life apart
again,
but she’d enjoyed Captain’s company. Sure, it had been nerve-wracking at times, but ultimately exciting.  She hadn’t felt this eager, this
alive
in years.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

“Oh, shut up,” she grouched.

He chuckled. And she could almost feel him relax in the chair, a release of tension in the air. “Then, I met the terms of our deal.  And we’ll do this again.”

Eddie couldn’t bring herself to protest. Maybe the girls had been right and she should give this a go, see where it went.

“So, what’s my score?” he asked.

 No sense in bein’ coy.
“Ten out of ten. And that was on the kiss alone.”

He gave a whoop. “Ah, Killer Queen, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Then, his voice deepened, roughened slightly. “And you can bet your luscious ass, we’re going to do a hell of a lot more than kiss next time.”

Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?

Chapter Eight

The next afternoon, Captain stood in Perdition’s parking lot with Coyote and Shepherd. They were headed to a meet with the Raptors.  

He’d rather be taking Eddie out to lunch or hanging out with Lex, but he had a job to do. Goat had stepped back from the club as he got older, resigning from an officer position, and Cap had to admit he was jealous because he had more time for his family and to do the things he wanted to do.

He hardly saw Lex these days, due to both their busy schedules. They’d resorted to scheduling time together. Speaking of, he needed to book a date for them at the shooting range. Lex said she wanted to learn to shoot, for some odd reason, and he intended to teach her on their next outing.

“Are you sure you want me along?” Coyote asked for like the hundredth time.

Captain stared the kid down. “Yes, you’re coming. Stop trying to get out of it.”  

“Yeah, but Duke would be better back up then me. Or Cowboy. He’s good with a gun.”  Coyote placed his motorcycle helmet on his head. It was red and striped, with webbing like Spiderman’s costume. Probably a custom job. Knowing Yo, he had a matching Spiderman suit stashed somewhere, too.

“I’m just sayin’, Cap, as the club’s techno-expert, I have a very specific skill set. And it doesn’t involve fighting. You knew this when I prospected.  The closest I’ve ever come to a fight is doing
West Side Story
in high school.”

Captain stared at him. Honestly, he needed a nerd-to-biker decoder ring or some such. He turned to his VP in askance, who just shook his head.  

“The
When You’re a Jet
scene,” Yo explained, snapping his fingers and high stepping forward.

As a rule, Captain didn’t do musicals. He’d never seen
West Side Story
, though he’d heard of it. “What the fuck kinda dance are you doing? You look like a drunk pirate.”

Coyote switched tactics. “Duke says I don’t defend my flank, whatever the fuck a flank is. Seriously, I’m not Jet material.”

Captain climbed on his Harley. “Good thing you ain’t a Jet, then. You’re a Horsemen and it’s time to give those Raptor boys hell.”

Shep finished his smoke and climbed on his bike. Then, reassured Coyote. “There won’t be any violence today, brother, just some intimidation. You’ve seen all the tapes from the whorehouse, so you should have the ammunition we need. Think about somethin’ juicy we can use on the drive over.”

The kid blew out a breath and his death grip on his handlebars relaxed. “Okay, cool. Gotcha. I can totally threaten people.” He lowered his voice and adopted an English accent. “Like…the Lannisters send their regards?”

 “Now you’re gettin’ it,” Shepherd said with a sage nod.

Captain frowned, still in the fucking dark. “The Lannisters? Who the fuck are they? Another club?”

 “House of Lannister?” Coyote said. He spoke slowly, hands clenched. “Casterly Rock? King’s Landing? Am I ringin’ any fucking bells?”

“That’s a negative,” he said.

“I’m going to organize a vid night at my place, and bring y’all up to speed. A little Lord of the Rings, some Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, all the greats.”

Captain shook his head. “Enough talkin’, let’s ride.”

Coyote gunned his bike and lit out of the parking lot. Captain and Shepherd followed him.

After a bit of a hike, they arrived in Canyon City, the Raptors territory. They drove up behind their old strip club, the Pussycat Palace. The parking lot was deserted and they pulled up beside a rusty old Dumpster in the back. Several ripped up beer cartons littered the ground and the stench of piss assaulted Captain’s nostrils.

  Captain and his brothers dismounted. While the intention wasn’t to start some shit, he wasn’t a fool. They’d come armed. Captain had even added an extra piece, a Glock he’d tucked into the front pocket of his cut. Eventually, the Raptors arrived on their Harleys. Three of them. The president, Manson, and two of his men. Junior, and Rusty.

Captain remembered the name Junior. He was a big guy with red hair and a beard.  Junior ran the Palace until it closed down and he’d once tried to rape Daisy, while she’d been working undercover as a stripper and searching for Rose. According to Cowboy, Daisy had knocked his big ass out and then ran for it.

  The other biker, Rusty, was a smaller man with light brown hair and a fuck load of metal piercings – his nose, his ears, his lower lip, both eyebrows, and who knows what else he’d poked a hole through. Probably his dick. Yeah, he seemed like the kind of guy who’d put a ring through it.

Manson looked like he was in his late thirties. He wore a black T-shirt and a ratty pair of jeans.  Captain noticed he’d had HELTER and SKELTER tattooed on either forearm.
Seriously, Charles fuckin’ Manson?
 

“I’ll get right to the point,” Captain said. The sooner they got this over with, the better. “We got wind the feds are on their way. They’re digging into your porn and prostitution business.” All of them simply stared back at him, not shocked in the slightest, or maybe they were too stupid to be concerned.

Probably that last one.

“You mean the place you boys robbed?” Manson drawled.

Shep grinned. “Yeah, that’s the one. We shut it down, too, as I recall.”

Coyote stood on the other side of Shep. While he didn’t appear intimidating, he didn’t look like he’d piss himself any second either. So, it worked.

“Let me guess, one of those drugged up cunts went and blabbed to the FBI?” Junior asked. “And now, they’re gunnin’ for us.

Captain didn’t confirm the info.  He didn’t need these ass hats out scouring the countryside for the women they’d abused. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Just givin’ you a heads up.”

“I’m touched.” Manson mocked, placing a hand over his heart.

“We don’t want any more heat on our backs. So, cool it until the feds leave and then we’ll figure this thing out.”

“Are you under the impression I fucking work for you?” Manson asked, stepping towards him.

Shep automatically went for his gun, pulling it out real slow. “Keep your distance from the Prez.”

Coyote didn’t pull yet, but his hand hovered over his piece.

Captain didn’t draw either. Instead, he took a deep breath, hoping to keep this meeting peaceful. The last thing he needed was a gun fight. “Only giving you friendly advice. We’ll settle the score after the feds back off.”

“Oh, you can count on it,” Manson said. “You cost us a few hundred grand.”

Captain couldn’t help the toothy grin spreading across his face. “Good.” He hoped he bankrupted the bastards. “If things are a bit tight, moneywise, you could always pull out of this territory. Regroup, maybe. I hear Arkansas is nice this time of year.”

“Fuck you,” Junior growled. “And before I forget, tell the stripper, I’m gonna even the score with her, too.”

Captain made a mental note to tell Daisy and Cowboy what he’d said. If Junior came after his old lady, Cowboy would take care of it. If the ex-Marine didn’t handle him herself.  That was one shit list, Captain never wanted to be on. She could hold her own in a fight.

“And if we decide we’d rather go after you bastards?” Rusty asked. “Have it out and fuck the consequences?”

They might be kamikaze enough to try a full on assault. But Captain had already anticipated that sort of crazy. He turned to Yo. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you, Coyote?”

“Nah,” Coyote said, with a shake of his head. “We got some very incriminating digital files we could turn over to the FBI.”

“You’re bluffing,” Manson said. “It would prove you stole from us.”

“Yeah, but what carries more of a sentence. Theft?  Or human trafficking, kidnapping, prostitution, and rape?” Coyote said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Let me think…”

“I’ll do the math for you,” Shep said. “None of you would ever make it into MENSA. It’s the second one.”

“Like we give a fuck. We’ve all done time,” Manson boasted.

 Cool as fuck, Coyote said, “Well, then we’ll go another route.  I’m bettin’ there’s a thing or two, you don’t want everyone to know.  For example, you walkin’ out of a room with welts on your back.” 

Captain watched as the blood drained from Manson’s face.  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about,” he growled.
Oh, this had to be some good shit.
He turned his attention back to Coyote.

“Took me a minute or two to figure out what the fuck happened. As fetishes go, male submission is a bit rare, but everyone has their own freak flag, y’know?  You like women to smack you around. It’s all good. I mean
Fifty Shades of Grey
is popular. Why not the flip side?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Manson growled. His brothers started to snicker behind him.

Coyote continued on. “I bet you didn’t have to force one of the girls to whip you, huh? They probably lined up to beat your ass.”  He cocked his head to the side. “Did you call her Mistress? Or ma’am?”

“
I said shut your fuckin’ mouth!”
 Manson bellowed.

“I will. For now,” Coyote said. “But if you don’t do what Cap says, I’ll release those files and then some. You’ll spend twenty-five to life in max security.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And don’t worry. Maybe you can find a big dude in jail to smack you around.”

Captain had to smother a laugh.  Coyote might have been bellyaching about it, but he’d come through for them in the end. He was proud of the kid.

 “You think you’re so fuckin’ good, don’t you? The high and mighty Four Horsemen, vigilantes for hire, better than the rest of us. Well, the feds don’t give a shit about your Boy Scout good deeds. They think we’re the same.”

“I think he’s tryin’ to hurt our feelings, Cap,” Shep said.

“We’re nothing like you cockroaches,” Captain said. “We don’t hurt innocent women and we sure as fuck don’t make money off of them. You should be ashamed to call yourselves men.”

“They’re nothing but junkies and whores,” Manson said, as he  stepped closer. Again, the brothers palmed their weapons. “And if I were you? I’d watch how you speak to me. We got very powerful friends.”

Captain shook his head. He’d thought he could shame them, but they were evidently too far gone to give a damn.  These assholes needed to get the fuck out of Texas. Although, if he had his way, he’d boot their asses off the planet. They gave bikers a bad name.

 “Like who?” Shep asked. “Your drug dealers?”

“The Dixie Mafia,” Manson said smugly. “They’ve been bankrolling us for years, payin’ for protection runs. You don’t want to tangle with those boys.”

They wouldn’t be so big and bad if they knew the offer Beauregard had made to Eddie.  Captain just hoped he wouldn’t be forced to take it.

 “You’re their errand boys.” He knew the Mafia wouldn’t protect the piss ants, that’s why he’d gone forward with the raid. “They could give a flying fuck about you. And, trust me, sooner or later, we’ll have this out,” Captain promised.

“Count on it,” Manson promised as he hopped on his bike. “For now, we’ll keep a low profile, but as soon as they pull out, you’d better watch your asses.”

With that, he roared off, his brothers right behind him.

The Horsemen headed back for Hell.

***

When they reached home, Shep and Coyote veered off towards Inferno Firearms, and Captain headed for Perdition. He wanted to check on Eddie.
Oh, fuck it all, it was an excuse.
He wanted to see her.  Make that
needed
to see her. When he’d woken up this morning, she’d already gotten up and left him a note by the coffee pot.

But as he turned a corner, one of Hell’s policemen pulled him over and hauled his behind into the station. And before he knew it, he’d been placed in an interrogation room.

Here we go again.

After an hour of cooling his heels, an agent walked into the room. He was a tall man, a couple of inches over six feet with short sandy blond hair. He had a thin build with sharp blue eyes. He wore a pair of loose-fitting khakis, and an FBI-issued navy blue shirt. Captain put his age around thirty, give or take. 

 “I’m Special Agent Chris Warner, with the Dallas FBI. Sorry, the locals got a bit overzealous,  but you know how it goes. You aren’t under arrest, but I want to ask you a few questions.  Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, sitting down across from Captain with a bottle of brewed tea and a thick manila file.

The nice guy routine was a ploy.  He’d seen it all before. Playing good cop to coax Captain into snitching, or possibly the agent hoped he’d leave behind his DNA on a beverage container.