Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4) (7 page)

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 13
^th
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.”

She’d seen the big lot they’d purchased on Main St. Couldn’t miss it really, especially with a big sign in the corner of the property proclaiming a new Beauregard venture was in store.

Whoopdedo. 

But she didn’t buy his legit song and dance for a minute. 
“
And here I was thinkin’ it’s a front. Be real easy to launder your dirty Dixie mafia money through those distillery accounts.”

A predatory expression settled on his face. “Isn’t that what your little motorcycle club does?”

Sure, they’d done some creative accounting from time to time.  But it was none of his damn business. “And what did you want to talk to me about?”

“You’ve quite a lucrative side business, selling small batch ‘shine. I have to admit it’s clever marketing –the fruit infusions, the gingham fabric on the lids. Very down home. But it’s still illegal, and comes with a lot of risk.  I’m offering to make your ‘shine into an artisanal line of Crossroads. I’ll pay you handsomely for your recipes, plus…what? A percentage of the sales? And then you can cease and desist making your own.”

Over my dead body.
Which was a very good possibility given his reputation. Still, she didn’t genuflect to imperious assholes.
Never had. Never will.

She’d been clearing a lot money lately and she didn’t intend to hand it over to the blood-sucking Beauregards. She wanted to sock away some cash over the next several years for her eventual retirement. It wasn’t like the MC business came with a 401K.
“
And I’d agree to that…why?”

“As I said, moonshinin’ is a precarious venture. You know, it’s highly combustible. I mean you could make bombs out of the stuff. Wouldn’t it be a shame if your little operation went up in flames?”

Holy shit.
“Are you threatening me?” Well, at least this made more sense than his song and dance about congratulating her.

He smirked. “Wasn’t it obvious? But I’m really here to help you. Together, we could make a great deal of money.”

Eddie barely resisted the urge to give him the finger.“I see. And you’re doing this purely out of the goodness of your heart?”

Byron shrugged. “Well, it helps me out, too. I’m getting all the legal permits and paying some hefty taxes to the government. If you’re selling cheaper shine in town, my profits go down.”

She called bullshit on that line of reasoning. “Taxes can’t be the only motive,” she said, studying him carefully. Something didn’t quite add up.

He tried to appear shamefaced, but it was a calculation. In fact, this whole thing was a scheme. “You caught me. Truth is, I’d like to have a closer association with the Horsemen.”

Ah, there it is.

 “Well, it could hardly get any more distant.” The MC steered clear of the Beauregards and their Dixie Mafia buddies. “I thought y’all were cozied up to the Raptors.”

He spread his hands. “Yes, well, my…partners and I have become aware of some of their
extracurricular
activities. They’ve attracted a lot of unwanted attention lately. Leaving dead junkies around town is bad for business.”

 “Your concern for the girls is touching.”

“Junkies live by the needle, die by the needle,” he said with a shrug.  “The point is, our association with them is going to end real quick, as soon as I secure another partner.  We want the Raptors gone, almost as much as the Horsemen do. We could work on the problem together, minimize the damage to your club, the town.”

He must have seen her business venture and the whorehouse raid as pressure points he could use to coerce the club’s cooperation. She offered him a smart-ass smile. “You should run this by the president, since I’m not a member.”

 “I will, but I wanted to get his
attention
first.”

“I should warn you, the Horsemen aren’t big on criminals.”

Byron slid back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me, are you laboring under the delusion that you aren’t criminals?”

She bristled. Sure, they might skirt the limits of the law, but they weren’t as bad as the Beauregards. Although, she wasn’t privy to everything the club did. “It’s a fact. Not a delusion. We’re
nothing
like you.”

“Keep telling yourself that. I assure you the cops don’t share your opinion.” He grinned, turning on the charm again. “My partners are practical people. We only want to make money. And we’ll starve the Raptors out,
together.
”

 “You’re so full of shit, your eyes should be brown.” She capped the moonshine cocktail and shoved it across the table. “Thanks for stopping by, but I got no interest in your offer to buy my business. Anything else, you should discuss with Captain.”

He whistled. “Damn. I was hoping you’d see reason and go along with the plan, but I can’t say I’m surprised by your answer.”

Eddie rolled her eyes.

He stood up then, smoothed his jacket and tie. “I can see now we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” He sighed. “That’s a cryin’ shame. I wanted to make a handshake deal with you tonight.”

She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.  “Honey, I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you and it’d take a hell of a lot more than a handshake.”

He winked. “You wanna kiss instead?”

 The thought made her stomach roll. “Hell, no.”

Byron grinned. “I think the lady protests too much.”

“I think the gentleman is an asshole,” she shot back. “And I’m being really generous by calling you a gentleman.” Eddie stalked to the door, and held it open. “Time for you to go and take your weak ass moonshine with you.”
To hell with Southern hospitality.

He moseyed to the door, letting her know with his body language he wasn’t intimidated. “The next time we talk, the terms won’t be nearly as good,” he warned. “You could save yourself and your club a whole lot of trouble by getting into business with me and recommending this deal to your president.”

She watched him walk onto the porch. “Yeah? Well, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.”  She shut the door and switched off the porch lights, leaving him in the darkness.

She could hear Beauregard’s slow footfalls on the wooden porch as he whistled the
Devil went down to Georgia
.While she put on a brave face, Eddie was worried. If Beauregard and his Dixie Mafia associates came after the Horsemen, they would be in deep shit.

Yeah, Eddie would have to be a damn good fiddler to get out of this fucking mess.

Chapter Six

After Byron left, Eddie dialed Axel’s number and let him know what had gone down.  He insisted on staying the night at her place just to be safe. She’d wanted to argue about it, but let it go.

 While she waited for him, she checked and locked down all of the entrances and exits to the house. She even locked the windows. Twenty minutes later, Axel arrived and did a perimeter sweep before coming inside.

As soon as he got in the door, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a big hug.  She sighed, leaning into it and soaking up some comfort. The encounter had been disturbing.

“Holy shit, mom. You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, really, but I’ve had better nights.”

Axel was a tall, muscular man, six and a half feet tall with dark brown hair and big brown eyes. He had a scruffy beard and mustache she nagged him about shaving off. Why would he want to hide his adorable cleft chin?