Hellbent (Four Horsemen MC Book 5) (7 page)

"Shep was about to step outside for a smoke," Voo said. "Care to keep him company? I'm going to stay here and finish my drink."

Shep frowned.

"Sure! I could use a break—" She cut off as she saw his expression. "I mean, if you'd rather be alone, it's no big deal. I can go out back."

Pretty Boy tried to hide his displeasure by wiping down the spotless bar, waiting to hear Shep dismiss her out of hand, as he always did with Hellions.

"You're barking up the wrong tree, baby." Steele stumbled over, half his beer sloshing out of his glass as he elbowed up to the bar. He clapped Shep on the back. "Our VP's practically a monk. But I'd be more than happy to show you out back if you're looking for an escort."

Steele was better than half-past handsome, especially when he took the time to shower off the oil and gunpowder. He shot her a pirate grin, giving her a once-over like she'd come to work naked.

Shep's eyes flashed and Pretty Boy bit back a curse.

"That's alright, brother. I got it." Shep stood, put his arm around the little barmaid and headed for the back door.

"Well, I'll be damned. Did we finally find a piece of tail Shep can't pass on?" Steele laughed. He turned to Voo. "I think you're about to owe me twenty bucks!"

Voo finished the rest of his hellfire. "We'll see."

Pretty Boy stared dumbfounded at the back door, half-certain he would wake up any second now. Had Shep just taken a hellion into a back alley?

Whiskey. Tango Foxtrot.

It was a good three minutes before Pretty Boy realized Voo was snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"What?"

"Watch your tone, prospect," Steele said, voice pointed as a blade.

"Sorry, man. Long night." He shook himself. "What do you need?

"Another drink, if it's not too much trouble?" Voo's sounded highly amused about something.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry," he said again.  He began working on Voo's drink. What the hell was Shep doing?

"Everything okay, son?" Voo asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm all good." His eyes strayed to the back door to the alley.

He tried to tell himself they'd just have a friendly smoke and Shep would be back before Steele managed to spill any more of his drink. Shep never went for hellions. This would be no different.

Right?

Chapter Eight

First come, first serve with the ladies. No cock-blocking.

~Four Horsemen Charter

***

Shep lit his smoke, his buzz practically vibrating through his body. He really should know better than to go drinking with Voo. They'd met up at Inferno Firearms after he'd gotten back from the meet with the Raptors. He should've stuck to his instincts and gone back home with Yo for a
Firefly
marathon and a couple of pizzas. But Voo had baited him, calling him an old fart, telling him he wasn't no priest, and he could come have a few drinks.

Then they'd gone shot for shot in the parking lot until he could barely stand, before dragging him over to Perdition. And now he was in the alley with a half-dressed hellion trying to remember which fucking pocket his lighter was in, while she watched him with wolfish eyes.

He couldn't make a good decision anymore to save his life. Could have something to do with the way he was keeping his BAC higher than his IQ lately.

"You're the one they call Shepherd, right?" She asked as he patted himself down for a lighter for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, ma'am." He paused as she flicked a Zippo to life and cupped her hand around his smoke, lighting it for him. "Much obliged."

She nodded. "You're VP?"

"Last I checked." He blew a stream of smoke over her head and leaned against the cool brick wall to steady himself.  "You're … Wendy, right?"

"Yeah." She leaned against the wall next to him. "It's my first night working at Perdition."

She’d been hangin’ round the club about a month now if Shep remembered right, angling for a job at the bar. "How'd you like it?"

"Not bad at all. A lot better than some other roadhouses I've worked at."

"Where you from, darlin'?" Shep wondered if this counted as flirting. He was pretty sure he was doing it all wrong and he was rusty as hell. Of course, he didn't really want to do this at all. But if he didn't start at least trying to hit on some hellions, the guys' good-natured teasing about his monk like tendencies was going to turn into some honest to God wondering about on which side his bread was buttered, as his grandma would've said.

He couldn’t have that.

"Austin. Arlington. Sweetwater, for a while." She shrugged. "I don't seem to stay in any one place to long."

"Why's that, sweetheart?"

She grinned. "Ain't found the place interesting enough to lay down roots, I guess."

He started to ask after her family and stopped himself. What would Steele do in this situation? Probably make some smart-ass comment about proving this place could be interesting enough for her to stick around. With his dick.

Shep couldn't quite bring himself to do that.

What about Voo? How would he handle this? Shep guessed Voo would stare soulfully into her eyes, reading her mind or some such, then scoop her up and take her home, so he could make her some kinda crazy wonderful scrambled eggs or some shit like that. Maybe whisper Frenchie sweet nothin's.

Well, he didn't really have the means to whip out a skillet and show off his egg scrambling skills, but he could look into her eyes. If not soulful, surely he could hit inscrutable? He could handle that. He tried it out, holding her gaze, reading her face as he smoked.

And hot damn, it seemed to be working. A rosy blush crept across her chest and her lips twitched into an awkward smile.

She hit her cigarette and looked up at him through a thick fan of black lashes. "You're staring."

"So I am."

"Like what you see?" She squared her shoulders. Something in the oddly brave and yet vulnerable movement tugged at his chest.

She wasn't as pushy as most of the other hellions. She wore bravado like her favorite pair of jeans, but there was a healthy layer of fear beneath it. He wondered where that came from, but resisted the urge to dig in. His brothers always called him a nosy mother fucker. Maybe this was one of those situations where he should mind his own business instead of dragging another set of skeletons outta someone's closet. He had enough to fill a boneyard as is.

"I do," he whispered.

She dropped her cigarette on the ground, grinding it out under the heel of her half-boots. "Gonna do something about it?"

Shep dropped his smoke and set his hand across her collarbone, the softness of her exposed skin odd against the warmth of his palm as he pressed her back against the wall. He hadn't kissed a girl since his long-gone fiancé. He pivoted, bracing an elbow next to her, leaving her plenty of room to escape on the other side if she wished.

She took a ragged breath, her eyes darting towards his mouth.

"Do you want me to?" He asked softly.

She curled her little fingers in the collar of his cut, her touch reverent. She tugged him towards her, smiling wider when he didn't resist. "Yes," she whispered against his mouth.

Her mouth moved gently over his and he cautiously opened his lips. She kissed sweetly, lightly, as if testing the waters. She tasted of cigarettes and cherry cola, and the kiss was not unpleasant. It wasn't really doing a whole lot for him down below, but even if it was, he hardly intended to fuck her in an alley.

Maybe this would be enough to keep the brothers off his back?

He moved in closer, letting his hand slide into her hair. He had expected it to be spiky, full of sticky product, but it was soft like feathers and reminiscent of … something wonderful he couldn't put his finger on just now. He opened his eyes for a second, glimpsing the soft, black fringe as his other hand slid down to her hip.

Pretty Boy.

Her hair reminded him of Pretty Boy's. And now, that's all he could think about.

All of a sudden, his body was all kinds of interested in what was going on, blood surging to his cock. He deepened the kiss before shame at what had triggered his response could stop him.

She broke away from the kiss and he trailed his lips across her cheek to her neck, nuzzling his nose into her hair as he teased the rim of her ear with his breath. She made a low throaty moan, and hey—this was working out alright. He obviously wasn't making a total ass out of himself.

The sound of the bar's back door smacking against the wall as it opened echoed down the alley, followed by loud, exaggerated coughing noises.

Shep turned to glare at the intruder and realized the person he'd been picturing kissing was the cause of the disruption. His face heated as guilt sank to the bottom of his stomach. What the hell had he just been doing?

Taking advantage of some wayward waitress to try to convince the brothers he was as straight as they were? He flinched internally. Of course, he hadn’t kissed someone without an ulterior motive in nearly five years. That was just the sort of bastard he was in the bedroom.

Pretty Boy stood in the doorway. "Wendy, you done with that smoke? You got double sat."

"You got to work on your timing, man." Shep glared at him. "Go away."

Pretty Boy's features curled into a full sulk. But only Shep knew him well enough to spot the real anger hidden behind the mock-upset. It was a skill set he was well familiar with—the ability to fake a normal reaction to cover the truth. "Ok, I'll give her tables to Fetch. Since y'all are…busy."

"No, I got it!" Blushing prettily, she cleared her throat. "Sorry, boss. I'll get right on it."

"You sure?" Shep asked softly, though the moment was over. He didn't really want her to stay, but he didn't want her to feel rejected.

She glanced over at Pretty Boy. "Yeah, it's fine. I'm working."

Pretty Boy didn't move, staring pointedly at the two of them.

She pushed at Shep's chest and he belatedly moved back out of her way. She shoved a hand through her hair, sucked in a deep breath and cast him a long, hungry look. "Catch you when I get off work?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

"Wen—make plans later. Work now." Pretty Boy shifted his demeanor, giving her a charming smile. His voice probably sounded amused to Wendy. It had a teasing quality and he tossed in a laugh at the end. She even gave him a conspiratorial wink as she pushed past him back into the bar. But Shep knew better.

Pretty Boy was pissed.

It shouldn't please Shep so much.

But it really did.

He leaned back against the wall and lit another smoke. "Take it easy on the girl, it's her first night."

"I was about to tell you the same thing," Pretty Boy tossed back, letting the door close behind him as he crossed the alley to stand next to Shep. "Since when do you screw hellions in the fucking parking lot?"

"Since when is it your business,
prospect?"
Shep challenged, knowing it would piss him off even more.

"Apologies,
VP,"
he bit out. "But, I'm night manager—she's on the clock."

"Sure, that's why you're upset," Shep scoffed. Dammit. What was wrong with him? This was not the direction he should be herding the conversation.

"Ok then. Why am I upset?" He asked softly, his eyes locked on Shep's face.

Shep inhaled sharply, wishing he hadn't downed that last beer. The alcohol filled the pit in his stomach and there was helluva a lot of 'I don't give a fuck' floating on top of all that booze. "Hell if I know—not like
I
interrupted
your
good time."

"Ha. If that was a good time to you, you really have no idea what you're doing." Pretty Boy rolled his eyes.

"She seemed to be enjoying herself," Shep said, trying not to sound defensive.

"Well, sure. She got one of the top level MCs out in the alley on her first night—it’s a hellion's dream come true. She's probably inside dreaming of being your old lady and doodling 'Shep' tattoos on bar napkins for her ass. But you? Didn't look like you could have cared less who was out here with you." He crossed his arms. "What are you doing, Shep? This isn’t like you."

"Think you know me so well?" Shep hit his smoke.

"Yeah, I do." Pretty Boy snagged the cigarette out of his mouth and hit it. "And you weren't up to doing anything with her but wasting both your time."

"Believe me, that was not my intention." Shep scowled. Pretty Boy knew him better than his brothers, if he was honest with himself. But if he could spot the charade, would they be able to as well?

"So you planned on finishing what you were starting out here?" Pretty Boy gestured with his stolen smoke to the alley around him.

"Maybe I did."

"My apologies then." His green eyes flashed as he tossed the smoke over his shoulder. "Allow me to make it up to you."

That was all the warning he got. Pretty Boy flattened his palm on Shep's chest and shoved him back against the cement wall. His mouth slanted over Shep's and when their lips met, electricity raced through his veins.

 
Oh God, yes.

His heart sped, blood pounding through his body  as Pretty Boy pushed into him, hands on his hips, sliding up and down his sides, then finally cupping his face as he deepened the kiss. His tongue thrust hot and dirty into his mouth, tangling with Shep's, eliciting a heartfelt groan that rumbled through his chest.

Some part of his brain sounded an alarm, telling him he shouldn't be doing this, that he
wasn't allowed
to do this—but fuck it. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet, felt so good. Pretty Boy kissing him was better than a cold glass of Eddie's shine on a summer night. Better than a smoke with a fresh cup of Voo's coffee. Better than starting his bike on an October afternoon with the rustle of leaves blowing past his face.

Shep thrust his hands into Pretty Boy's hair, glorying in the feel of the real deal beneath his fingertips, the taste of him strange and yet familiar. A heated haze took over his brain, better than any buzz booze had ever given him. Their teeth clashed, movements becoming fierce and raw. He instantly hardened, his cock thrusting up against his jeans. Pretty Boy's piney scent enveloped him and Shep breathed deep, sucking in every second of this stolen moment.