Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4) (17 page)

She sat up and ran her fingertips along his jaw. “I know it’s you, Captain. You and no one else. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else at the moment.”

And that’s when the rails came off of this thing.

He thought he’d be all smooth and shit, talk her into letting him touch her. Taste her. But fuck. He’d waited so long, wanted her so much, that all this romantic shit started to tumble out of his mouth. Like he’d lost his fucking mind.

“You move me, Eddie.  You make my heart pound. You steal my breath.” Right now, he thought his lungs might burst right outta his chest, horror movie style.  “I get fucking goosebumps just thinking about you. And I’m
always
thinking about you. You make my hands shake.”

He held a hand up so she could watch it spasm. “I know it in my gut.
I burn for you.
I was born for you. I’m yours.”

He meant every fucking word.

“And you’re mine, if you’ll have me.”

She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t protest either.

Then, he bent to taste her, tonguing her wetness. He had to coax her at first. It had been a while, he knew. But she tasted so salty, sweet, and so fucking fine.  He put his fingers to work too, tracing her lips, her clit, rubbing deep into the heart of her.

She gasped in response, moaning as her hips moved,  and he felt like fucking crowing. She was wet, she wanted him. Needed him, too.

This was working. He could
feel
it.

He lapped at her and her legs came to rest on his shoulders. Then, he devoured her. Fucking her with his tongue, teasing her clit with licks and gentle nips. Finally, he sucked the little nub, grazing it with his teeth, before he pushed two fingers inside her. He kept her on the edge  until she keened beneath him, thighs shaking.

Coming for him.
For him. No one else.

And yes, it was loud. Louder than she’d been for that bastard Joker all those years ago.

He wiped his mouth on the bottom of his Clash t-shirt and then joined her on the rock. He laid down, so she could curl up against him, lifted her so she rested on his body.  His cock was unbelievably hard, throbbing, straining in his pants.  And it  was a magnificent sort of torture, a burden he bore for her, a badge of honor.  

When he got home, he’d stroke himself off, daydreaming about her, probably with her panties pressed against his nose, and the scent of her on his fingers.

Tonight, he’d begun making her his. He could feel it in his fucking bones.

“Oh my God.” She started to laugh, hiding her face in his shoulder. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m too old to have sex outside.”

“Says who?” Captain couldn’t resist giving her a smug little smile. “And how was my score tonight?”

“Another ten out of ten,” she murmured, before kissing him deeply, cupping the back of his head.

When he pulled back, he could feel this fucking stupid grin spreading across his face. “Excellent. Make sure to fill out a comment card. I take suggestions.”

She laughed and he loved the sound of it.  Over the past few years, there hadn’t been much joy in her life. He could get addicted to that, pleasing her, making her laugh. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He threaded fingers through her hair and kissed her again, unable to keep his hands to himself.

“What about you?” she asked, hand straying to his belt buckle.

He seized it, then kissed her fingertips. “This time was all for you, Killer Queen. I’m a grown ass man and I control myself. Though,  I might have hairy palms by mornin’, but I’ll be fine.”

They locked eyes. “Then next time, we’ll take this further.”

There’d be a next time!  He felt like beating his chest, shouting loud enough to wake up all the townies sleeping in their beds down below.

Halle-fucking-lujah

Chapter Thirteen

Captain walked her to the door and they spent ten minutes making out, before he headed home.  He’d wanted to wait with her, but Eddie had sent him away, mostly because she didn’t trust herself to be near him in the vicinity of a bed.  She had about twenty minutes until Ryker arrived and the last thing she needed was for her son to walk in and find them doing the bump and grind.

But damn, that sounded so good…

She felt younger, lighter, and happier than she’d been in years. Eddie tossed her keys and purse on the kitchen table and grabbed a soda from the fridge. She  wasn’t even a bit tired. No, she felt keyed-up, like the time she’d had one too many mochas and spent the night cleaning the house from top to bottom, fueled by caffeine and sugar.  

And then someone grabbed her from behind. 

As she opened her mouth to scream, a hand pressed over her mouth, choking off the sound.  Fuck. Her gun was three feet away, tucked into her purse. The guy who held her had a big, muscular frame. She didn’t stand a chance of overpowering him.

He dragged her towards the door and she hung limp in his arms, like a ragdoll, trying to slow him down.
Shit!

 She was usually more careful than this. She shouldn’t have let her guard down,  she usually paid attention to her surroundings, did a visual scan before she entered, but tonight Eddie hadn’t even turned on the kitchen lights.

It was a rookie mistake, one she might pay for with her life.

Eddie couldn’t even put up much of a fight as he hauled her ass outside.

***

Eddie tried not to panic, but it wasn’t working.  

She guessed she should be grateful Byron hadn’t ordered her bound and gagged and then tossed into the trunk of a car. Instead, her abductors, some of Beauregard’s boys,  loaded her into the back seat of the Escalade next to an armed guard, another burly guy in an expensive suit. He pointed a Glock at her stomach.

She doubted Byron would actually hurt her. After all, he’d said he wanted a partnership with the club, but she’d get the hard sell this time. She had no idea what that looked like, but her mind filled in the blanks and she imagined a torture session.

Well, good luck, asshole.

After giving birth to two babies without an epidural, she had a pain tolerance most men couldn’t touch. Unless he’d pushed something the size of a small watermelon out of his body, he didn’t know who was dealing with.  

At least that’s what she hoped.

Not like she’d ever been through a torture session before. Unless you count that summer when she went to two little league games a day.

It didn’t take them long to reach their destination, Beauregard Manor. The Beauregards lived in a mansion, done in the Antebellum style, with long Corinthian columns along the front porch. It reminded her of the lavish homes in
Gone with the Wind
. In fact, it would put Tara to shame. 

The property had a rich green lawn, a rarity in Texas, with dozens of ornamental flower beds, probably maintained by an army of gardeners. The long, curving driveway was flanked by massive magnolia trees. As they passed by, she noted security cameras discreetly placed in the branches recording every move and cleverly disguised by the thick foliage.

Running wasn’t an option. Not that she’d get very far in heels, anyway.
Note to self: buy tennis shoes for hostage situations.
Not to mention?  Don’t get kidnapped when you aren’t wearing drawers
.
Captain had rode off with hers tucked in his pocket.
 

After they pulled up to the main house, two of his beefy minions manhandled her out of the car and escorted her inside. They flanked her as she shuffled down a long hallway filled with grim Beauregard portraits. While the MC and its members were comfortable, or maybe even well-off, none of them even had hopes of being a millionaire. The Beauregards had invested their ill-gotten gains throughout the years. Small silver plaques beneath each framed picture detailed the name and dates of each person. They’d gone from thugs and thieves to being almost respectable, unless you pulled back some layers and looked at their dirty underbelly.

Eventually, they reached his study. To the left side of the room, loomed a black vault door. Evidently, he had so much money, he needed an entire vault to store it all in.

 He stood behind a large oak desk in an elegant black three-piece suit, with a cut-glass in his grasp. “Good evening, Eddie. Welcome to the manor. I’m so pleased you stopped by.”   

Eddie rolled her eyes.  “Save it. I didn’t have a choice because your henchman abducted me.”

He laughed, his lips curling. “My associates gave you a ride.”

“At gunpoint. Call me old-fashioned, but that’s a kidnapping.”

 “They were only thinking of your safety,” he insisted.

 Damn, he had an answer for everything.

“And I’m not a villain, so I don’t have any henchman.”

Eddie snorted in reply, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I want to be your business partner, not your rival. You’re the one forcing me to do these things.”

She raised a brow. “Mighty interesting reasoning you got there.  Isn’t that what men who beat their wives say?”

 He sighed. “I see you’re determined to be difficult.”

She sneered at him. “I’m just ornery, I guess.”

“Well, make yourself comfortable. We need to talk.” He waved her over two Victorian antique chairs, taking one for himself. All the furnishings were vintage –large walnut bookcases, lavish chairs, an elaborate desk, even the fucking brass candlesticks on the fireplace mantle.

Pity she couldn’t get closer to one of them, might make a good weapon.

 She sat down across from him and he handed her a mint julep, which she sniffed experimentally. She’d never developed a taste for the cocktail even though it was a staple at get-togethers in the south. It consisted of bourbon, fresh mint, sugar, and crushed ice. She thought they were a waste of good bourbon.  They tasted like alcoholic gum, but she took a generous sip from the glass anyway. Southern hospitality could be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

“Let’s discuss our business venture.”

She took a deep breath to steel her nerves and let him have it. Men like Beauregard respected strength. “Not to state the obvious, but your crazy is hangin’ out all over the place.”

He tilted his head to the side, studying her. “I think you mean tenacity.”

 “We don’t have an arrangement. You made an offer and I turned you down. I don’t want to work with you. I can’t be any clearer.
No means no
.”

He gave her an audacious smile. “I’ve always operated under the assumption that a no can be turned into a maybe. And a maybe is only a nudge from a yes.  You’ll reconsider,” he murmured, meeting her gaze. “Tonight.”

“I take my domestic violence analogy back, apparently you have a date rapist philosophy when it comes to mergers and acquisitions.”

“Now, now, don’t get tetchy.”

She drained her glass and slapped it on the small table next to her. She could feel her ire building. Right now, she wanted to pull a Ryker and Louisville Slugger some baseball-sized cracks in the back of Beauregard’s thick skull.   

“You can shove your offer where the sun don’t shine, kid.”

His features remained smooth, not betraying any trace of anger. But his eyes nearly melted her, they were filled with hot fury. “No one speaks to me that way.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And there’s a reason they don’t,” he whispered.
He got closer, voice lowering to a threatening purr. “For your sake, pray you never find out.”

Okay, so the nasty approach wasn’t working.
Time to switch tactics.
In fact, it might lead to that torture thing. She tried to let him down easy instead.

 “Look, I appreciate the proposal, but I can’t go into business with you.  And as for the MC?  They don’t want to be mixed up with the Dixie mafia. After what went down in the eighties, we tried our best to steer clear of anything RICO-related.”

“I don’t intend to get caught.”

She raised a brow. “How many people
intend
to get caught?”

“You gotta point there. But the bottom line is, I need some muscle and your MC fits the bill. It would be a profitable arrangement for us both. I’m even willing to help you neutralize the Raptors. What more could you possibly ask for?”

She shouldn’t be hashing this thing out anyway. It wasn’t her place. “I’m having a case of
déjà vu
over here. Talk with Captain. He’s the president. I’m only an old lady. I don’t even have a vote.”

“You’re a hell of a lot more than that.” He cocked his head to the side, studying her.  “Do you know why I came to you with the deal in the first place?”

 “You think I’m a weak link?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. I chose you because you’re strong. You get things done and you’ll make this happen. You’re the fulcrum of your little organization.”

“Come again?”

“The fulcrum…the heart of it. Those biker boys adore you. I see them surrounding you in town, seeking your advice, your praise. You saved the Horsemen from disaster, built small businesses, pulled them back from the brink. They think of you as their savior. Why, even the president has fallen head over heels for you.”

Shit.
He sure as hell didn’t run a sloppy organization. He’d done some homework. She side-stepped the Captain issue. “I wouldn’t say that,
exactly.
I couldn’t have done it without the help and support of others.
”

Byron chuckled. “What a charming little speech, but we both know better.” He steepled his fingers and watched her.  Tell me something, Eddie, while we’re on the topic of your choices. Why haven’t you remarried?”

That was way over the line.

“None of your damn business,” she snapped.

“But it is. If we’re going to be partners, we should get to know one another. The Horsemen are such a tight-knit family, I’m simply tryin’ to fit in. If you talk to me a bit, you might find you like me.”

“And then I’ll toddle off afterwards and do you bidding because we had a touching heart-to-heart? Convince Captain to make a deal with the devil?” She glowered at him.  “You can save the bullshit. We’re
never
going to be partners.”