Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5) (21 page)

Shep swallowed thickly. "I trust you, brother."

He needed to tell someone about the civil war raging inside his mind. But he was … scared. As much as he told himself to man up and get over this shit, he couldn't. Telling Voo would make it all the more real.

Jagger sauntered back, trying to disguise his drunken wobble. "You're up, Shep."

"Fine, fine." Shep stumbled over to the center and not knowing what else to do, dropped to his knees. What the hell was he supposed to say?

This felt uncomfortably close to praying. Something he hadn't done in … too damn long. The last time he’d really prayed, it had been for forgiveness. For taking a life
.

"Ok, so …" He wet his lips, glancing quickly back at his brothers to make sure they were far enough away to not hear him. "I guess I'm supposed to tell you what I want. And then make a deal or whatever. And I realize that Voo's really trying to help me out and be supportive or some shit, but I uh …"

Damn. This shouldn't be so hard. His brows drew together as he tried to focus.

"The thing is I don't know what I want. Well, I do, but … it's not okay for me to want it. It's all kinds of fucked up that I want it. How
badly
I want it." Shep's hands clenched. He had wanted to talk about his for so long and now that he'd started, it felt so good to say it—to confess to someone, he couldn't stop. "Even if I thought I wouldn't get kicked out of the club, which
cannot
happen … it's still wrong. I swore I'd protect him. No matter what. That I'd have his back and keep him safe, and be responsible for him. Because of what I took from him. And then to turn around and take advantage of him …"

He heaved a hard breath. "I guess I could ask to not want it anymore. But I don't even know how I'd live without this feeling gnawing on me. But maybe … maybe, if you could help me find which way I'm supposed to go? Because lately, I have doubts. I keep wondering if … the truth is, I don't deserve to be in this club. Don't deserve this family.  I mean, I tried to justify it by bringing him in so I could keep an eye on him. But … my loyalties are split. And I have no idea how to handle this fucking shit."

He swallowed. "I always keep my promises. I swear to you that won't change if I figure out how to fix this. I swore I'd be loyal to the Horsemen. I will. I swore I'd protect Noah for the rest of his life, in penance.” He should have been an example that good guys can come through, and violence isn’t necessary. Instead? He’d killed Noah’s father in front of him. “I can keep both those promises, right?"

The wind whirled around him softly, like a soothing caress on his head. "I don't know what to do. Please help me. I'm lost."

He hung his head as one tear rolled down his cheek. "And I'm just so fucking tired."

He forced himself to breathe, trying to find some kind of calm center. When he had reigned his emotions in, he glanced back at Voo and Jagger, wondering what they were supposed to do next. Was he supposed to wait around for someone—something—to show up? Or go back and wait with the others?

He looked back at the basket. Was something missing from it? His vision blurred as he tried to focus. Wasn't there another bottle of booze in there?

He shivered, despite the warmth of the night.

Jagger must have taken it right? Hidden it in his suit jacket? He hoped not. He could only imagine how pissed Voo would be.

He was about to stand, when he heard the rattle.

Fuck.

He felt all the blood drain from his face as he froze, looking for it with just his eyes. A twitch of movement caught his attention and he saw it, coiled and deadly just beside the basket.

Few things in this world were as lethal as a Timber rattler. Shep's current list basically just included Duke.

And maybe Daisy.

"Oy! Shep! Don't move!" Jagger half-shouted, half-whispered at him.

Shep stared into the gleaming eyes of the snake as it swayed, scenting the air.
Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me.

This is what he got for sorta prayin’ to some pagan spirit. A serpent was about to bite him in the ass. Goddamn irony.

The snake gave another menacing rattle. Shep flinched. It struck in a blur of movement, arcing towards his leg and snapping back so fast Shep couldn't have backed up if he'd tried.

He felt pressure on his upper thigh and swallowed hard, waiting for the pain of the snakebite to come through.

It didn't.

Shep's head snapped up, just as the snake slithered back into grass beside the road. He looked down at his leg. The snake had bit his Four Horseman Zippo in his pocket.

What were the odds of that?

He fell back into the dirt in relief, clapping a hand over his heart. Jagger jogged over and dropped beside him.

"Jesus, man, are you okay? Are you bit?"

Shep laughed weakly, surprise and relief rushing through him. "It bit my goddamn lighter!"

"Are you shitting me?" Jagger ran a hand over the two tiny holes in Shep's jeans. "You are the luckiest, fucking sunuvabitch I've ever met!"

Shep wished he felt the same. “Yeah, that’s me. Lucky.”

Voo held up his phone. "Got us a sober ride coming, boys! So long as we can get the bikes in the truck."

"Yeah, I'd like to get the fuck out of here!" Shep called, breathing still labored.

Jagger grabbed two smokes out of a pack, lit them both and passed one to Shep. "Damn. I mean,
damn.
"

Shep stared at where the snake had vanished. "What the fuck?"

Voo grinned. "Papa Legbo sometimes appears as an animal or a shadow."

"You know, that might have been nice to know earlier." Shep gave him a look.

"You believe now?"

Shep sighed. On one hand—yeah, the bottle had gone missing from the basket and he'd been randomly attacked by a snake. On the other hand, this was hardly the wildest story he had of drinking nights with Voo and Jagger. And if he had met a scaly Papa Legba, what the hell was the message? Had his club lighter protected him, making the MC his choice? Or had something venomous struck a symbol of his club loyalty, and he should turn to Noah?

Never ask a fuckin’ snake for help.

He was saved from further musing when Lexi pulled up in Coyote's gigantic, quad-cab, king-cab, huge-ass monstrosity of a truck. There was a bumper sticker on the back that read,
Browncoats. We aim to misbehave."

"Hey, boys! Need a ride?" She called out the rolled down window. She smiled at them, her eyes still a little sleepy. She had her college hoodie on, hair pulled up into a messy bun and clutched a travel mug of something steaming.

"Yo let you borrow his ride?" Jagger's eyes shot up.

Her eyes rested on Voodoo as she replied with a smirk, "I get what I want."

Shep grinned. In the past few months, Lexi had become rather comfortable in her own skin. With her and Dani now hanging with a new crew of old ladies, the MC had more of a family feel to it, something Shep ached for.

Voo moved to the driver's side window. "You are sober, yes?"

"Hand to God." She lifted the hand holding her coffee. "Pretty Boy gave me a breathalyzer before I left."

"What did that entail?" Shep frowned. "Did he make you breath on his nose?"

"No." She giggled. "Now, get those bikes in the back so we can go! I do eventually want to sleep tonight."

Once the bikes were secured and they were all piled in the car, she tossed a crinkled paper bag on Jagger's lap in the backseat. "Hey, you left so fast, I forgot to give you this?"

Jagger frowned as Voo gave him a questioning look. "What is it?"

"A present. Open it." She waited until he spilled the silver contents into his palm. "So, this girl in my dorm, she's from New Orleans. And she's raising money so she can go home this Thanksgiving by selling all this cool stuff she brought back over the summer. She didn't have much I wanted, but when I saw these, I thought maybe you could use them."

"Thanks, sweetheart." Jagger smiled, slipping them on his thumb and forefinger.

"Supposedly, they were blessed or whatever by a Voodoo Priestess in the middle of a bayou." She met his eyes in the rearview, widening her eyes.

"Blessed or cursed?"

She grinned. "I'm like ninety percent sure she meant blessed."

"
Meant
blessed—so she didn't actually say 'blessed?'"

"I guess you'll find out, brother." Voo clapped him on the back. "Whether it's a good or bad thing, rejecting a gift from a Voodoo Priestess is bad juju."

"It's a gift from
Lexi."

"Ha! See if I ever pick you up any cool souvenirs anymore." Lexi glared at him.

Voo chuckled. "Pissing off Lex is also bad juju, friend."

 They dropped Voo and Jagger off at Hades, and as they rolled down the road, Shep tried to think of something to say that wouldn't give away how fucking wasted he was right now. Finishing the rest of the whiskey in the parking lot had been a poor plan. "So, you ladies had fun, I take it?"

"Sure did. We made them watch all of season five before they wimped out and fell asleep." She winked at him.

He laughed. "Abusing your power, already? Maybe I shouldn't have loaned them to you."

"Don't worry, I took good care of your boy." She shot him a glance. "Ooops, I meant boys."

"I'm sure you did."
Had she just implied …?

"How was your night?"

Naw, he'd just had a long night and was reading too much into everything. "Well, I didn't get bit by a venomous snake."

"Um, I think we need to talk about raising your expectations.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Anything else good happen?"

"Hey! You missed the turnoff—"

"Oh, no. I’m not sending you back to your house alone and this drunk. You can sleep it off with us at Eddie's. There's one spot left in the guest room and it's yours." She glanced in the rearview and changed lanes.

"That's not—"
Noah will be there. 
He closed his eyes. So much for crossroad deals taking away this feeling. "You should turn around."

"Make me." She stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed. "Really?"

"I'm the driver. You go where I go. That's how this whole things works." She smiled as she pulled into Eddie's driveway. "So, get your ass inside and let's get you some water!"

He let her drag him inside to the kitchen and gulped down the bottle of water she handed him without protest. Then, holding her finger against her lips, she motioned him down the hallway. He followed her to Eddie's guest bedroom.
Awesome.
It had a Queen sized bed in it. That sounded amazing right now.

She paused outside the door and held her hand up. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. "Hey, Shep, can I tell you something kinda personal?"

"Of course!" He looked at her, slightly alarmed.

"You smell."

"Excuse me?" He asked a little too loudly and she shushed him.

"Sorry, but your clothes reek like smoke and liquor." She widened her eyes.

"Umm … okay …"

"So, once you're in the room, strip off and toss your clothes out here. I'll throw in the washer for you so you have something clean to wear when you wake up with that massive hangover that's coming."

"How would you know I'm going to be hungover?" He tried to sound affronted, but his foggy mind was not cooperating.
“I can hold my liquor. I was drinking when you were still a short
[CR1]
 
fry.”

"Just do it!" She opened the door and pushed him inside. "Hurry up, I'm going to have to switch these to the dryer before I go to sleep."

He blinked in the inky darkness of the room. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"Now!" She whispered.

Hurriedly he shucked his pants and shirt. After a second's consideration, he stripped off his socks as well. Then he stood behind the door and opened it just enough to shove the clothes through.

She passed him two bottles of water and when he took them, sprayed him with something the consistency of water and a sweet, bakery scent. "What the fuck?" he whispered.

"Don't like it? Shower." She closed the door in his face. "Goodnight!"

He flicked the vanity lamp on as her footsteps faded.

That's when he realized he wasn't alone in the room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

No drama. No bitchin’. No gay shit.

~Four Horsemen Charter

* * * * *

When Pretty Boy woke up, he was pressed up against a smooth, warm body and surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and apple, culling a visceral reaction from his body. He blinked lazily, the sunlit blond spikes of Shep's hair coming into focus.

Pretty Boy lay on his side, head pillowed on Shep's shoulder. The bikers arm was loosely curled around his hip and the other flung half off the bed.

Am I dreaming?

He took a deep breath and the apple pie scent invaded his lungs, filling up his nose and buzzing along his nerves. As kinks went, he supposed a scent sounded kind of vanilla.

Except nothing he felt right now was vanilla.

Shep was still pissed at him. Pretty Boy knew that. But the sleek lines of his defined chest were within reach and the soft rise and fall indicated Shep wasn't joining the waking world anytime soon.

He rolled his hips and shifted his shoulders, slowly moving in a little closer. He skidded his fingertips down Shep's collarbone to his sternum. No movement. He pressed a little more firmly, drawing a line down Shep's chest and across his ridged abs.

Shep shifted in his sleep, a low, soft sound in his throat.

Pretty Boy swallowed and slid his hand under the sheet, tracing the line of Shep's boxers. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly as he struggled for control. Another wave of tart apple blunted by warm cinnamon swirled through him and he was hard as a rock, his cock pushing into the mattress beside Shep's hip.

Suddenly Shep twisted towards him and his hand covered Shep's crotch. His dick throbbed beneath Pretty Boy's palm through the fabric of his boxers.