Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5) (27 page)

Shep's eyes widened.

"Just stop thinking and let's do what needs done." Noah shook him, his voice edging on desperate. "You're the only one who’s ever …" He swallowed hard. "You're all I got right now. I can't lose you. Please. Do this for me, please."

Something shifted in Shep's eyes and the tension radiating from him eased. It was like he'd just settled into his favorite jeans after being stuck in an itching, ill-fitted suit for too long. "Get the shovels. You and I—we take this to
our
graves."

Noah huffed out a sigh of relief. He grabbed Shep's forearm, willing Shep to understand what he was feeling, to read the thoughts he couldn’t untangle. Shep's eyes warmed and he squeezed Noah's arm.

Noah nodded and hustled for the shovels. If half the shit Shep had said to Jerry were true—and judging by the brain matter splattered on the fire ring, they were—he couldn't begin to imagine what Shep had given up for him today.

Shep would carry this moment on his shoulders forever. The day he’d given up trying to be—a better man than his father? The man his father told him he’d never be? Who the fuck knew? But Noah would confess to the whole damn thing before he even let Shep think about going to jail again.

 Noah could remember every minute of that night. He thought about it when he’d killed that dickhead in the Raptor whorehouse. Shep was worried that he killed without blinking? He should think about the example he’d set for acceptable lengths to protect someone. Noah had never forgotten.

Six feet under himself right now, it was easy to feel the damp of the grave they’d dug. Shoveling dirt next to Shep, the trailer at their back. The intensity of Shep's eyes every time when they locked gazes stomping the earth back down. The awkward stumble as they tried to get into the trailer, tracking mud all the way to the shower. Imagining Shep naked as the steam from his shower drifted over Noah, shivering outside the narrow stall, waiting his turn.

These bricks of memories had built the foundation of his and Shep's relationship. And he stayed lost in them until he heard muffled shouting above his grave.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

If you need something, ask the VP. If he can't help you, you don't need it.

~Four Horsemen Prospect Handbook

* * *

He’d lost track of time underneath the ground. How long had he been buried? Hours? A day? Pretty Boy prayed the sounds he heard was Shep finally digging him out. Breathing tube or not, nothing but his own company in a pine box was no picnic.

Dirt crumbled and he heard the whine of nails being yanked out of wood. He was almost free. The dying light of the sunset seemed blinding as the top of the coffin was pried off of him. He squinted at the shape leaning over him, blinding reaching up.

A firm hand grasped his and pulled him to his feet. "There you are, Bé."

"Voo?" Pretty Boy whispered hoarsely. He stumbled and Voo's arms came around him, holding him up. A bottle of water appeared in front of his face.

"Drink that." Voo moved his hands to his shoulders, still keeping him on his feet. He draped a pair of black boxers with a white scythe emblazoned across the crotch. "Then put these on."

Pretty Boy swallowed down the water, staring up into Voo's silver eyes and trying to make sense of what this meant.

Voo squeezed his shoulders. "Welcome to the House of Death, brother."

Pretty Boy wobbled on his knees, relief and confusion warring inside him. He'd made it. He was out of the damn hole, something he'd been praying for what had felt like fifty years. On the other hand …

Shep hadn't chosen him.

Had left him in that grave. Hadn't been the one to dig him up.

Christ, he was stupid. Thinking because they'd fucked now, just because Shep had let him … he'd thought it had been safe. But Shep didn't want him around anymore than anyone else Pretty Boy had ever slept with. Come the morning, all they wanted was him gone. That was always his problem—confusing people who just wanted an easy lay with people who might be willing to love him.

He'd just … he'd never thought it would go down like this between them.

Not with Shep.

He swallowed hard and looked up to see Fetch, Dash and Crash watching him with heavy eyes. He forced a grin. "Gentlemen! What's the verdict?"

Fetch nodded at Ryker standing him behind him. "War."

Crash pointed between him and Dash. "Pesitlence."

Pretty Boy heaved a breath as Voo slid a black leather jacket with a skull and cross bones rocker on it onto his shoulders. "Death."

Voo gripped his hand and tugged him against his chest. He pressed a dry kiss to his forehead. "Welcome, brother."

"Voo …" Pretty Boy wet his lips, dying to ask and knowing he shouldn't.

"Steady, bro. He had his reasons. Give him a chance to explain," Voo whispered in his ear.

Pretty Boy nodded.

"In the meantime," he continued louder. "We've got a Patch Party to get to gentlemen!"

"Picture first!" Coyote shouted. He shoved them to stand next to each other. Pretty Boy was glad it was a warm night, as they'd be spending the rest of it in their Family boxer briefs, new cuts and nothing else. Crash and Dash leaned their shoulders together, Fetch towering behind them, a hand on each of them. Pretty Boy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against them.

As least someone still had his back.

Coyote snapped the picture. "This is going up in the board room!"

Axel came forward. He hugged each of them, rubbing a handful of dirt into the back of their new cut. The tradition was meant to protect new members—make their cuts look worn in, so they didn’t get identified as rookies. Then Shep stepped up. When he put his arms around Pretty Boy, his scent invading his nose, Pretty Boy physically flinched. He knew the question was in his eyes when Shep looked at him.

Why didn't you choose me?

Shep stared at his House of Death patch as he rubbed dirt into the white lettering, a haunted look twisting his features. Then in the next second, he'd been passed on to the next brother and Shep had fucking vanished again.

He was too numb to even appreciate the irony of Duke the Unemotional hugging him in his underwear as the rest of the club welcomed their new members.

What had he expected? That Shep would want to be tied to him like that forever?

The next stop was Brimstone Ink. As he got his new member and family tattoos, Pretty Boy focused on Voo's steadying presence, trying not to think about how he had thought this night was going to go—not to think about how Shep should have been here with him as he got inked, how Shep should have been the one sliding the cut on his arms, welcoming him into the family—and accept it for what it was. He was still a Horseman now.

He had at least proved to Shep he was good enough to run with his crew. That had to count to something, right?

Or had he thrown it all away by fucking Shep when he'd been all emotional and out of his head? Had he blown any chance of them having something good because after five fucking years, he'd gotten too damn impatient?

Probably. He was pretty damn good at fucking himself over at every opportunity.

They made their way back toward Perdition, eventually strolling through what was left of the drunken rally crowd for the night. There were a few hoots and hollers, and an older lady grabbed Crash's ass. Pretty Boy tried to get into the spirit of the night.

He should be elated, but all he could think about was Shep not thinking he was good enough for Famine. Perdition roared as they entered and he made his way towards where Lexi sat cross-legged on one of the tables, nursing a plastic cup full of something strong.

She jumped up, rushing over to throw her arms around each of their necks, squealing something excited and congratulatory in his ear. Then she was pulling on his arms and suddenly they were in a corner booth with Elizabeth and Dani. Lexi was shoved against his side, whispering in his ear, "What the fuck happened?"

Pretty Boy choked. He looked away from her, trying to pretend that the rest of his prospect brothers weren't staring at him with knowing pity in their eyes. Maybe they didn’t know all the gory details, but they knew he and Shep were close. Knew that he’d been expecting to go into Famine. He turned so Lexi could see his new bottom rocker.

Fetch cleared his throat. "Pretty Boy's in Voo's house."

Lexi's eyes widened. "Honey, I'm so sorry."

He cleared his throat. "It's fine."

"Want to get fucking smashed off our asses?" She asked sympathetically.

"Yes, please."

She stood up on the booth seat and waved down Ryker. He wound his way back to them. "What are we drinking tonight?"

Elizabeth smirked at him. "Long Island Iced Teas, dear. All night long."

Ryker gave an exaggerated sigh. "Coming right up."

"Damn right they are!" She howled after him, then cackled as Lexi sat back down. They bumped fists. Apparently this wasn't their first round.

Crash stared between the two of them. "Well. What's all this then?"

Lexi grinned. "Technically, this part of the patch-in is the Old Lady Reception. Usually Eddie handles this whole thing, but since she is … indisposed at the moment, we weren't really sure who was supposed to take over. So, I figured it was still Eddie's thing no matter what and I asked Axel and Ryker if they wanted to plan it."

Apparently, while Shep had been training prospects to be full brothers, Eddie had been in some time with the new crop of Old Ladies and set an example for how such a dynamic went. The MC was going to keep on their toes with the womenfolk from here on out. Even Lexi, who had been kept away from the club most of her life, had found a comfy ‘club princess’ role. She seemed to be relishing her dive into all things MC.

"Oh no," Coyote squished himself into the booth on the other side of Dani. "I can just imagine how that went."

Elizabeth nodded as she drained the last of her glass through her teeth. "The exact words were, 'Fuck no, we don't know shit about planning no tea party.'"

Pretty Boy raised his brows. "No …"

"So, Elizabeth and I planned a tea party." Lexi's smile was brilliant.

"And volunteered Axel and Ryker to tend bar," Elizabeth added smugly.

Dash rested his chin in his hands to stare at them across the table. "You two are evil. I love you."

"That's the correct answer," Lexi teased with a wink.

As the night continued, Pretty Boy drifted through the celebratory atmosphere, caught in a full on brooding session. All the members were there, scattered throughout the bar, drinking. Jagger dragging a reluctant Blue, Voodoo, Coyote, Pretty Boy and his fellow patch-ins, Dani, Elizabeth and Rose had all been talked into playing Truth or Dare Karaoke by Lexi.

The rules were pretty simple. Everybody picked a song, then you asked a person a question. They could answer truthfully or sing the song you picked. And in between questions—everybody drank.

Eventually, Lexi managed to sucker Shep into joining in, giving him a guilt trip about abandoning the prospects as soon as they became brothers.  When he pulled a chair up to the edge of the sprawling area of tables they'd taken over, there was palpable tension between him and the newest members.

This was fucking awful. Patch=-in night wasn't supposed to be this way. Pretty Boy finished off another long island iced tea and tried to focus on the game. His eyes stayed glued to Shep's back, but he never caught his gaze.

"So, Dani?" Lexi asked. "The question is: Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now and the song is the theme song to C.O.P.S."

"Mr. Right Now!" Dani shouted. "Easy."

"Hey speaking of Mr. Right Now, isn't that your boyfriend?" Dash smirked, nodding his head towards the front door.

Officer Douche—who Lexi whispered in his ear was actually named Frost, had just walked in with Steele. Frost had the typical asshole-swagger of a cop. While Pretty Boy knew that with Dani’s history of run-ins with the law in this town, the appreciative glance she swept over the off-duty officer said there were some parts of Hell’s finest she truly appreciated. Frost and Steele stood over by the bar, probably paying their respects to Axel, and Dani’s eyes seemed to automatically follow the cop’s movements.

Dani caught Pretty Boy’s amused stare and shrugged, covering a blush with a laugh. "Not the way I'd imagined handcuffs working in my relationship."

When the laughter died down, she turned to Voo. "Ok, please know I mean this in the most respectful way possible—why do you believe in Voodoo?"

Voo stilled, his eyes reflecting like silver pools of moonlight. He cleared his throat. "My uh, my pickup truck. My Granmere, she gave me a protection talisman and I left it in my truck. It's the only thing that survived the hurricane."

Fetch whistled low. "Damn."

Crash bumped a sympathetic fist against Voo's shoulder.

Voo shook himself. "Let's try a lighter subject." He caught Pretty Boy's gaze. "This one's for you, my new brother. How many tats you got now that we inked you for the Family of Death?"

"Why don't you just show them to us?" Lexi asked, eyes wide as the ladies giggled around her.

"What's the song?"

"Barbie girl."

He swallowed hard.
Dammit Voo.
 "Alright, alright, I'll show you."

The girls whooped and the men tried to groan louder than them.  He flexed his left bicep. "This is my brand new Four Horsemen MC." The brothers cheered around him. Apparently they had a full audience now. "And right below it, the skull over dual scythes is my House Crest."

Voo thumped his fist against his chest in a gesture of solidarity. Pretty Boy slipped off his cut, wondering at what point he became the kind of person who could stand in the middle of a crowded bar in his boxer briefs and just not give a fuck. He turned his back to his audience and twisted around to try and point, ignoring some of the lewd suggestions being shouted at him.

"Pretty Boy, do you have a tramp stamp?" Dani yelled. "Oh shit, you do. Are those wings? What's it say?"