Hot as Hades (Four Horsemen MC Book 2)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  He savored the awe in her voice. “I did some trick shootin’ in my rodeo days,” he explained and then he lowered his voice. “You can trust me, Daisy. I would never let anything happen to you.” He meant every word.

  She narrowed her eyes, pissed as all get out. “You’re a damn good gunman and I’m used to letting other people watch my back. I did it all the time in the military. But let’s get something straight, I take care of myself—always have, always will. I don’t need someone to watch over me.”

  He had a feeling pain lurked beneath all her bluster, a deep pain, which never quite healed. “Whether you need it or not, I’m going to protect you.”

  With that, he swaggered back inside and she trudged after him.

  When they reached the booth, he held out a hand. “Give me your piece.”

  She gripped the handle, like her life depended on it.

  “Come on,” he coaxed and she finally placed it on the table, scowling at him all the while.

  Fetch came over with a plate of brown beans and hot biscuits. Voodoo trailed him.

  Cowboy grabbed one, split it open, and then slathered it with a pat of butter, before pouring honey on it, from the plastic bear on the table. He handed half to Daisy. “You need to try this.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on, try it,” he coaxed.

  Daisy took a bite and then closed her eyes in obvious rapture. Few things in Texas are as good as fresh honey-slathered biscuit. “Damn. That’s good!” she said, turning to Voo.

  “Merci, ma belle.” Voodoo smiled.

  “Voo might not let you order, but his buttermilk biscuits are almost as good as my momma’s,” he said to Daisy, before appreciatively taking a bite

  “I think perhaps mine are better than your maman’s,” Voo said, glancing at Cowboy.

  “A good southern man never talks shit about his momma’s food, brother.”

  “Bien. Mine would skin me alive if I did,” Voodoo agreed. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved an envelope. “Almost forgot, ma belle. Here is your hotel fee.”

  “No, that’s yours. I should be paying you for today too.” She started to hand the money back, but he sliced his head to the side.

  “Non. You are helping the MC and we take care of our friends. The club owns this place, so consider it compensation.”

  “Oh, well, thank you.” She shoved the envelope in her pocket.

  Voodoo turned to him. “If you need me, brother, I’ll be in the back.” With that, he strolled off.

  He shot a glance over at Captain, Eddie, and Elizabeth, who had all been staring at them. They hurriedly went back to their food. Damn. Gossip would be flying around the club now.

  The Horsemen were a tight knit bunch and rumors seemed to have a life of their own. They all kept tabs on each other. Sometimes, he loved being part of a community, other times, he felt like telling them to mind their own fuckin’ business.

  Daisy nodded in Voodoo’s direction. “He confuses me. One second, he’s all homey and the next, he has this ominous vibe.”

  Cowboy chuckled. “Yeah, get in line.”

  Voo could be a stone cold killer when the situation called it for it. He hid it beneath his laid back ways. He liked cooking for people, chatting them up. Frankly, he didn’t know which version was the real Voodoo. Not sure he wanted to know.

  “And what about you? You don’t seem like the biker type either.”

  “That’s the great thing about bikers; we don’t really have a type. Although, I’m different than some of them, at least the legacies. I’m not a second or third generation Horsemen, like some of my brothers.”

  “Seriously?” she asked. “I didn’t know it could be generational, like the military.”

  “Yeah, it is a bit unusual for someone to make it into the MC from the outside, especially in a club as established as this, but I did.”

  “You mentioned the rodeo. Is that what you did before you became one of the Horsemen?”

  “I grew up outside of Amarillo and my parents owned a ranch. I learned how to sit a horse before I could ride a bike.” He smiled faintly. “After high school, I started competing on the weekends and found I could make more money riding and roping than pulling a nine to five. So, I traveled around the West on the circuit.” He took a bite of beans. “I won some contests along the way.”

  Her eyes widened, and she seemed impressed.

  Cowboy shouldn’t enjoy her admiration as much as he did, but he couldn’t help himself. While screwing fulfilled his body’s needs, it didn’t do a damn thing otherwise. Sometimes a man wanted to be appreciated by a pretty girl. Been a long fucking time since a woman gazed at him like that, with a bit of softness in her eyes, as if she thought he could rope the moon.

  “Broncos. Bulls. You name it, I rode it,” he drawled. “I was too stupid to be scared.” In fact, it made him feel like a God. He’d been invincible, perched up there on a couple thousand pounds of raw power with a crowd cheering him on.

  “What happened? Why did you give it up to be a biker?”

  A lump formed in his throat. “That’s a long story.” He didn’t need to dump all that ugly on her, wanted to savor the moment.

  It wouldn’t last long.

  He changed the subject, craving to hear more about her. “What about you? Why did you choose the military? By the time you entered, both wars had to be in full swing.”

  “I was at loose ends, I guess,” she said, picking at the macaroni on her plate. “I turned eighteen, got kicked out of the foster care system, and I didn’t have the grades for college. The only thing I’ve ever been good at is fighting.”

  “I’ll vouch for that,” he said dryly.

  She laughed. “I started speaking with a recruiter and eventually signed up. The Marines offered me a direction in life.”

  “But you decided against another tour?”

  She nodded. “It’s time to do other things. After I find Rose, I’ll be taking a civilian contractor position at Fort Bliss. I figured she could come with me, and we could start over together.”

  He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of her moving so far away saddened him.

  She set down her fork and breathed in deep. Cowboy bet she was thinking about her sister. Suddenly, that hard mask slide over her face once more. He had a feeling she’d learned long ago how to hide herself from others.

  Daisy regarded him with a cool, military demeanor. “Speaking of missions, why don’t you brief me about tonight? What do I need to know?”

  He sighed. She was right. This little meeting had started to feel like a date. “Okay, the first rule, I’m the boss of this operation.”

  She cocked a brow at him. “That so?”

  “I mean it, Wildcat. I know bikers. You don’t.” He had a feeling he’d have his hands full trying to keep her in line. But if she said or did the wrong thing, she could get them both killed.

  “I’ve done research on bikers.”

  “Yeah, reading articles and living the life aren’t exactly the same thing. Do everything I tell you and we’ll get along fine.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “That is non-negotiable. I ain’t willing to get my head blown off so you can play superhero. We’ll get this shit done, but it will be my way.”

  “Fine,” she snapped.

  He had no doubt she’d test him some more, but he continued on. “Second rule we covered a bit earlier, but it bears repeating. You won’t be taking a gun with you.”

  She didn’t look happy, but she nodded.

  “Like Captain said, it’s going to be more crowded tonight. The Raptors were out on a run. The strip club serves as their headquarters and it will be packed with bikers. So you need to prepare yourself.”

  “For?”

  He cleared his throat, hating to be the bearer of bad news. “They are going to be all over you, because you’re fresh meat, Bikers attract wild women and, in the Raptors case, junkies and head cases willing to do about anything for
a quick fix.”

  She nodded and he saw something like determination in her eyes. “Yeah, I already figured that out.”

  He blew out a breath. “You gotta play the game with ‘em. You should tease ‘em. Be coy. But very respectful. Respect is a huge deal with bikers. It is okay for you to be unsure of yourself, so flirt with them, but don’t let any of them drag you off by yourself. For any reason! They only want corner you so they can fuck you. You can’t say no, but don’t say yes either. It’ll be a balance. Get it?”

  She nodded. “Got it.”

  “And if they’ve had too much to drink or the mood shifts, they will fuck you in front of a crowd. So, when it gets to that point, you and I will beat feet outta there.”

  She looked a bit green, like her macaroni and cheese threatened to crawl back up her windpipe. He didn’t blame her one bit.

  He clenched his fists as he imagined men ogling her, trying to touch her. He shouldn’t feel this way, but some primal male part of himself had laid a claim on Daisy. Captain and Shep had been right, as per usual. He shouldn’t have touched her earlier, stroked her to a release. If he’d have kept his fucking hands to himself, it would make life easier for him tonight.

  Shit.

  He ignored his misgivings and continued on. “I’m going to arrive after your shift starts, so we don’t attract attention. You should be safe enough early in the evening.”

  She nodded.

  “You sure you’re ready for this tonight?”

  “Oorah.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” He’d heard his brother, Steele, a former Marine, use it before but he’d never bothered asking what the fuck it meant.

  “Oorah. It means I will do my duty for God, country, and the core, or in this case, the Horsemen. It is an expression of assent. Agreement.” Her chin jutted. “Oorah.”

  Cowboy shivered. Suddenly he was hotter than a two dollar pistol. An unwelcome wave of lust hit him and he gripped the corner of the table.

  He flashed back to the way she’d sauntered down the catwalk at the club like she expected the men to bow down to her. Fuck. He knew she’d live up to the name Wildcat in bed. She’d give him a bit of a tussle before he fucked her. He imagined her fingernails sinking into his back as he rode her hard.

  She stood up, gazing down at him fiercely. “Whatever they got coming? I say bring it on.” Then, she sauntered out the door and he watched the slow, spellbinding sway of her hips.

  Kill me now.

  Chapter Seven

  Two and a half hours later, Cowboy walked into the Pussycat Palace.

  He grimly noted dozens of bikers and quite a few hangarounds as well. Sometimes men looking to prospect for an MC hung around the club, trying to get noticed. He ordered a beer, took a seat at an empty table in the corner, and observed the room.

  He didn’t see Daisy anywhere in the crowd, but she might be in the back. A young woman danced on the stage, probably twenty-five at most. She had brown hair, blue eyes, and a very thin build, scarce-hipped and flat as a fritter. What really bothered him were her vacant eyes and again he had the urge to do something besides sit on his ass drinking beer and waiting.

  Bikers catcalled the stripper on stage and he could feel the anger burning inside. The thought of Daisy dancing in front of all these dumb fucks made his blood boil. Thank God she’d said she’d only be waitressing tonight.

  “Anyone sittin’ here?”

  An older man stood in front of him, probably in his late fifties judging by the bad dye job, which stained his scalp, visible through his thinning hair. “Be my guest.” He waved a hand at the empty chair. He’d wanted a chance to chat up some of the Raptors, but they had been standoffish and you never approached a member of an outlaw MC. You always let them come to you.

  He sat down heavily and offered his hand. “Seen you here before. I’m Moose. You?”

  He gave the man a firm handshake, and the biker squeezed his fingers harder than usual, taking his measure. Not the first time he’d been tested, so he knew what to expect. “The name’s Jake.” He didn’t use his road name, in case they’d heard it somewhere.

  Cowboy noted the Sergeant at Arms patch on the biker’s cut. Hmm. Not a member, an officer. He could prove to be useful.

  “Where ya from?”

  “Grew up in Amarillo, but I’m new in town.” He had been chosen for this task because he hadn’t been seen by any rival gangs so far. He’d mostly done protection runs, and handled security at the clubhouse.

  “You ride?”

  “Yeah, a bit.” Hell, maybe the guy thought he wanted to prospect for them.

  “What brings you here?”

  He nodded to the brunette dancing. “Nothing much, looking for a bit of fun. I think I found it.”

  The guy gave a dirty laugh. “Trust me. She’ll keep you occupied, got a mouth like a fucking Hoover.”

  He tried not to grimace as he pictured the wrinkled old coot skullfucking that sweet young thing. “Does that mean she might be available for more than a lap dance?”

  Moose studied him. “I ain’t her pimp, you’d have to talk her into it.”

  “Yeah? She doesn’t strike me as the type you buy flowers and candy for.” He shrugged.

  The man sat back in his chair, eyes unreadable. “Young guy like you? You don’t need to pay for pussy.”

  “Sometimes you need a little strange. Y’know, a rub and tug job with no bullshit drama after.”

  Moose grunted in response and turned his attention toward the stage.

  Terrific. Dead fucking end.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, Daisy stepped onto the main floor. She’d been helping out with inventory in the back, counting cases of beer, and other mind-numbing tasks.

  She made her way through the crowded tables and caught a glimpse of Cowboy as she walked by. He sat across the room, but she could feel the weight of his gaze as it briefly rested on her.

  As she marched by a table, a man grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto his lap. He just wore a cut, which left his chest bare. A thin line of hair bisected his six pack. The biker had two silver nipple rings and a two four leaf clovers tattooed on his biceps.

  “What have we here?” he said, ogling her.

  She studied him as well.

  His thick black hair fell past his shoulders and a goatee covered his squared jaw. She would have called him handsome, had he been anyone else, but she had yet to meet a member of this club who wasn’t an asshole. He sat at a table with a couple of other Raptors.

  What had Cowboy’s advice been? Be coy and flirty? She ducked her head, as though flattered by his grabby maneuver, when she really felt like socking him in the gut and being on her way.

  He stared at her cleavage. “Damn girl, you got some big titties.” He nodded to his buddies, seated at the table. Both of them were grizzled bikers with long beards. “Just the way I like my bitches. You shoulda been the one strippin’ tonight, instead of that little bitty titty committee cunt on stage.”

  Yep. Asshole alert. She forced herself to grin. “Thank you.”

  “Go on. Take off your top, girl, let me see your nipples.”

  On stage, as bizarre as it sounded, stripping down was a bit easier. For one thing, she could take her clothes off when she decided to and there were several feet between her and the men.

  “What the fuck are you waiting for?”

  Her temper flared and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from telling him off.

  She shot a glance at Cowboy who shook his head slightly, warning her to keep her cool. She had no doubt her face betrayed her, not that any of the men at the table noticed. No, all of them focused on her chest. Cowboy wrapped a hand tightly around his beer stein, the knuckles white. She wondered if it would shatter in his grasp.

  The man’s voice lowered. “You won’t like what happens if I have to ask again.”

  She didn’t see a way out of this that didn’t involve nudity, or a trip to the emergency roo
m. God damn it. She glanced at the man’s shamrock tattoos and mentally dubbed him Unlucky, because soon his luck would run out and she’d teach him a much needed lesson.

  Daisy lifted the edge of her white shirt and he pushed her hands aside, impatiently, then yanked it over her head and tossed it on the floor. He unsnapped her bra, peeling the lace away. Then tucked it in his pocket, as a sick souvenir.

  It left her on display and the men stared at her bared breasts hungrily. Unlucky tweaked each nipple, twisting them until they stood at attention. Daisy forced herself to just go with it.

  “Good,” Unlucky said smugly. “Keep those tits out. I want to see ‘em bounce when you walk around tonight. Now, make yourself useful, bitch, and get me a beer.”

  She jumped off his lap and fired off a little salute. “Yes, Sir.”

  Who knew? Unlucky was smarter than he looked, because he picked up on the sarcasm in her voice. “Hear that, brothers? We got us a bitch who likes to sass men.” He focused on her once more. “Know what happens to little cunts who talk back?”

  All thought of appeasing him had gone, and she raised a brow. “Enlighten me.”

  He got to his feet, standing over her. Then hauled back and slapped her across the face. Hard.

  She reeled from the hit, spinning around and placing a hand to her face. She caught another glimpse of Cowboy across the room. Evidently on instinct, he’d jumped out of his chair. His shoulders tensed and his nostrils flared. She knew he wanted to come over and deck this asshole, but he would blow both of their covers. He sat back down, though she could see by his thunderous expression, he’d barely held himself in check.

  She feigned a few tears, mostly sniffling for effect. “I’ll get your beer,” she forced herself to say in a small little voice.

  “Thought so,” he said proudly.

  What a douchebag. As though beating up on someone half your size made you a real man?

  She bent down to retrieve her clothing and he had the nerve to smack her ass. “Be quick about it!”

  She slowly walked to the bar, placed her shirt and bra behind the counter, then pulled a beer for him. Though, if he hadn’t been watching, she would have hocked up a loogie and spit it in the glass. After strolling back to the table, she handed him a perfectly pulled beer with a good head of foam on it, in case he decided to bitch about that too.