Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  Devil May Care

  A Four Horsemen MC Novel

  BOOK FOUR

  Books in the Series

  Sweet Perdition (Ryker & Elizabeth)

  Hot as Hades (Cowboy & Daisy)

  Damned (Duke & Rose)

  Devil May Care (Captain & Eddie)

  Hellbent (Shepherd & Pretty Boy)

  Hell on Wheels (Axel & Charlie)

  More coming soon!

  Author’s Note

  Some of the events in this book will be revealed or discussed in more detail in the upcoming book, Hellbent, which will be told in both Pretty Boy’s and Shepherd’s POVs.

  Newsletter

  Please visit my website to sign up for my new release newsletter. I promise I will only email you when there is a new release. On the site, you will also find excerpts, an interview with the brothers, the club commandments, an overview of the club, and other goodies!

  Table of Contents

  Books in the Series

  Author’s Note

  Newsletter

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Hellbent

  Hell on Wheels

  Copyright

  About the Author

  Contact the Author

  Prologue

  “It’s me, baby.”

  Edna “Eddie” Rollins shivered as she knelt beside her late husband’s grave in Jackson Cemetery. It was a cool late September evening and she zipped up her gray hoodie against the chill in the air.

  Jackson was in a state of disrepair, but it was close to her hometown, Hell, Texas, and she wanted to be near him.

  She was here past visiting hours, but she didn’t give a damn—not like the cemetery had a night watchman anyway.

  Nothing here to guard, but some old bones.

  A rusted wrought iron fence surrounded the graveyard and it creaked every time the wind blew. Most of the crumbling tombstones were from the Civil War era, according to the engravings she’d read, and the majority had died in the 1863 campaign to blockade the Texas coast. Their loved ones were long gone and she appreciated the privacy.

  She swiped at the headstone with the back of her hand, clearing away the prairie dust, so she could read his name more clearly.

  Robert “Joker” Rollins

  “Hard to believe it’s been over three decades,” she said softly.

  With a sigh, she traced the worn letters and the Four Horsemen symbol embossed on the headstone, which matched his motorcycle club tattoo. Following a RICO conviction, he’d been shanked in federal prison by a rival gang member according to the official report, but they hadn’t pinpointed who and which gang. She was willing to bet the Raptors had a hand in it. Not like the prison officials had put much effort into their investigation either.

  No, they’d swept it under the rug right quick and put the kibosh on the bad publicity. No one wanted the public to think the prisoners were out of control. They’d offered her a settlement—paying for his funeral costs, along with some money to keep her quiet. With no evidence or witnesses who’d speak up, she’d been forced to accept their offer.

  But she wasn’t here to relive all of that.

  No, she believed in celebrating a person’s life, not fixating on their untimely death. Nothing she could do to save him now, but she could remember Joker. Eddie never visited the grave on the anniversary of his murder. She’d rather reminisce about the good times they had together.

  She pulled out a bottle of Maker’s Mark from a paper bag at her feet, Joker’s favorite bourbon, to celebrate his birthday. They’d gotten drunk as skunks on it several times, mostly in their younger days, before their boys were born. The bottle was sealed with a thick layer of red wax and she used his old pocket knife to slice it open. She usually kept the blade with her, for protection and as a convenience. Being a Horsemen’s widow could be a deadly position.

  Eddie poured a bit of the amber liquid into the ground, a shot for a dead man. Then, she took a swig herself. At first his death had been a raw, gaping wound, a searing pain that woke her screaming in the middle of the night. But it had faded over the years, and moved to the margins of her life. It had become a shadow which darkened holidays, birthdays, graduations, and especially Christmas.

  Every now and then as she gazed at her sons, Ryker and Axel, she would see Joker in the expressions they’d make, or hear him in their voices, and it brought her a sort of excruciating joy. But the ache no longer hollowed her out, and doubled her over with grief. No, it had become a part of her now. A deep, jagged battle scar –an old war wound.

  Eddie poured them both another shot and then played one of her favorite games. Sometimes, she indulged herself, conjured up an image of Joker in her mind and spoke to him as if he were still alive. She’d tell him about her life, about what their boys were up to. Other times, she brought a favored memory back to life.

  Brought him back to life.

  She closed her eyes and pictured Joker standing in front of her. God, even all these years later she could still see him, plain as day. Six feet tall with black hair and smoldering blue eyes. He usually had a day or two’s growth of hair on his cleft chin and, of course, the obligatory cigarette dangling from his full lips.

  “Hey, sweetness,” he murmured.

  Of course, he wasn’t really there, but she gave in to the fantasy. She stood up, imagined placing her hands on his broad shoulders and his fingers sliding into the back pockets of her jeans.

  “Mmm, Joker,” she said, brushing her lips against his. “Do you remember the night we first met?”

  Her husband smiled. “How could I forget? I lived through Revelation and got my bottom rocker. Then, we met at my patch party.”

  The Horsemen’s initiation ritual, Revelation, was shrouded in mystery, even to her, but he’d gotten through it and became a full member of the club.

  “And I’d been invited by one of your brothers.” In the distance, she heard the sound of a car engine, chugging as the vehicle sped down the road, but she didn’t let it break her concentration.

  “Yeah, you came with Viper, but you couldn’t take your eyes off me,” he said smugly.

  “How could I? You were wearin’ those tight-fittin’ jeans,” she teased. “And when he got called away on some club business, you were all over me, askin’ me to dance.” She envisioned resting her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

  God, she missed this. Missed him.

  “Yeah, well, Viper never made it back to the party, so I did my brotherly duty and kept you entertained.”

  “No, you stole me away from him,” she corrected.

  He laughed. “If I remember rightly, sweetness, he flirted with you at a gas station and asked you to be his date. Not like you were engaged or somethin’. He had no claim on you.” Joker encircled her wrist with his fingers and turned it over, revealing her tattoo. He pressed a kiss to her pulse point. “But by the end of the night, you were mine.”

  When she’d become his old lady, she’d gotten his name tattooed on her wrist,
most of the old ladies got a name tat. It was a bit like a wedding ring, only more permanent.

  She’d sworn early on she’d never get married. Her parents had made each other miserable and she hadn’t wanted to make the same mistake. But then she’d met Joker and everything had changed. Just like that. They’d a whirlwind romance. She’d met him in March and married him in January the next year.

  For the most part, they’d been happy. Oh sure, they could fuss and fight with the best of them, but it was usually over stupid shit. Like the way he never put his underwear in the stupid hamper. Or how he waited until the last fucking minute to take out the trash, and waited until it stunk to high heaven. And sure, things had gotten a lot more complicated when they’d had Axel and Ryker, but they’d made it work.

  “I still am,” she whispered. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, hanging on to the fantasy as long as possible, but it rapidly slipped away from her.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Yours.” She opened her eyes to find herself alone in the graveyard.

  Of course she was by herself. No matter how hard she’d tried, she’d never been able to move on, find someone new.

  The man she loved, her soulmate, was six feet under. And part of her was dead and buried with Joker. Like the song by The Band Perry, Better Dig Two, she’d never be whole again until they placed her in the ground next to him.

  With tears in her eyes, she gathered up the bottle and poured the rest of the liquor into the cold, hard ground. Eddie pressed two fingertips to her lips, before brushing them against the headstone. “Happy birthday, baby.”

  Chapter One

  One month later

  She’s one hell of a woman.

  Captain watched Eddie as she skillfully carried four longneck beers to a table, her high heels clacking on the concrete floor. Perdition, the club-owned bar, was packed as per usual and she’d been runnin’ all night. She wore a pair of painted-on jeans which hugged the curve of her fine ass and a green sweater that matched her cat-like jade eyes. In her late fifties, with dark brown hair framed by matching streaks of white at her temples, she was still a beautiful woman.

  Not to mention sexy as all get out.

  Unlike the young, nearly-naked, leather-clad girls around her, Eddie’s appeal was more understated–a mixture of biker chick and Martha Stewart. And much harder to get a handle on, and a man had to work hard to get her to notice.

  It made him want to put a ring on it, but he was gettin’ way ahead of himself.

  The wild women who hung around the brothers, called hellions, loved to be free and easy with sex. But, what do you expect from biker groupies? As president, Captain had been propositioned so many times he’d lost track, but he never went for it, at least not in their hometown. She wouldn’t give him a second glance if he did.

  He knew her all too well.

  She’d write his ass off as a man whore and never give him the time of day. Now, that story was a little different when they were out on a run. Captain had needs after all and sometimes he took some cold comfort from a willing woman while on the road. Just biding his time, of course, until he could sweet talk her into going out with him.

  Lately, he’d begun to wonder if he’d ever get anywhere with her. Their timing had always been off. When he’d first met her, she’d been married to Joker. Then, the RICO shit royally fucked up the club and she’d remained loyal to her husband while he was behind bars. Captain had forced himself to date and ended up marrying his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Then, after Joker died, she’d been a grief-stricken widow, left with two boys to raise.

  But none of it mattered anymore.

  The time was finally right. Her youngest son, Ryker, had finally settled down with the town librarian, of all people. Axel had a thriving mechanic business. Captain’s daughter, Lex, had recently started grad school. Hell, the time had been right for a while, but he was finally ready to make a move.

  He took a pull on his beer and surveyed the room. Nearly all of the brothers were here, looking to unwind. The bar, like nearly every other business in Hell, Texas, had a satanic theme. Think on your Sins, the club motto, was painted in crimson along one wall. Two antique Harleys hung from exposed steel beams on the ceiling. And framed posters of hot women straddling even hotter hogs lined the walls.

  A long, lacy line of panties framed the bar. Eddie had offered up a pair to Joker back in the day, thereby starting the brothers’ panty-raid tradition. He’d thought about cutting hers down, taking the panties home with him many times, but had decided against it. He’d like Eddie to hand him her undies of her own accord, preferably after he’d fucked her six ways from Sunday.

  Glancing to his left, Captain watched as Ryker glared at him, a distinct fuck you in his eyes. Ryker was a good guy. At one time they’d been friendly, but that had gone south once he’d started flirting with his momma. Captain couldn’t fault him for being overprotective, but now he specialized in being a full-time pain in his ass.

  Well, no one said this would be easy. If he wanted easy, he’d make time with a hellion instead.

  “You know what you need?” Steele asked, slipping into the chair across from him. He squeezed a lime wedge into his Corona and tossed it aside.

  “Privacy?” He pointedly focused on Eddie once more, who briskly refilled bowls of salty peanuts.

  “No, a wingman,” he said, nodding towards her. “That is definitely some dangerous territory, my friend.”

  Captain couldn’t deny a bit of truth in those words, but he didn’t discuss his love life, or lack thereof, with his brothers. “Ain’t your friend.” He lifted a brow. “I’m your president.”

  While he loved the Horsemen, he had to forfeit some of its benefits. Namely the brotherhood aspect. He never allowed himself to get too close to any of them. When you had to knock heads now and then, it didn’t pay to play favorites. Sometimes, he thought about stepping down, letting someone else deal with all this shit. Probably Shepherd, his VP.

  Steele was completely undaunted. “Whatever, Cap, but you still need a wingman. I mean it ain’t goin’ well. Everyone’s been sayin’ so.”

  He groaned. Holy shit. The brothers sure loved to flap their gums. The hazard of a small town, he guessed. Nothin’ to do but talk. He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean? Everyone?”

  “The club, all the brothers, and the old ladies, too. Like I said, you need some help.”

  “No, I don’t. What I need is some fucking peace and quiet.” He made a brushing motion with his hand. “Now, toddle off.”

  He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs, and generally made a big show of getting comfortable. “Nah, I’m good here.”

  “There are two things you need to keep in mind, Steele. Number one, I’m startin’ to get tetchy. Two, I’m armed.” He dragged the Colt from the pocket of his leather cut and brandished it.

  God bless Texas. A concealed carry was perfectly fucking legal. It wouldn’t have stopped him anyway, but it's nice when the law can’t do a damned thing about it.

  He laughed. “You expectin’ me to get spooked by one little bitty pistol? Marines don’t run away.” He nodded towards Eddie. “Speaking of the military, you need to get over there. Take that hill.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on it.” Then, he shook his head. “No, no I won’t. Because I’m flying this mission solo.”

  Steele coughed into his hand, with a muffled chicken shit.

  “What the fuck?” He drained his whiskey and slapped the glass back on the table.

  He squared his shoulders, his spine ramrod straight. “I said. Enough with the stalking. Sack up and ask her out. I got good money ridin’ on this shit.”

  “Did you guys start another goddamn pool?” The brothers loved to bet on each other’s personal lives. Who’d get an STD, who’d be arrested next, that sort of thing.

  The Marine glanced at the ceiling. “Uh, no, of course not. That would be wrong.”

  “And for the record?” Captain said, jabbing a
finger in Steele’s direction. “I’m not stalking her, I’m keeping an eye on...” He drifted off as she bent down to pick up a napkin from the floor.

  Holy fuck, those jeans hugged every curve. Damn, he’d have to think about it later in bed. Prime stroke material right there.

  “Her ass?” he offered.

  Captain snapped out of his lust-induced trance. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “No. Not until you do something. Ask her out already. You’re startin’ to look like that French polecat.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  Steele frowned. “You know, the one tryin’ to fuck the real house cat. The cartoon?”

  “Pepe fuckin’ Le Peu? That’s what you’re yammerin’ about? A cartoon skunk?” He dimly recalled the cartoons, where the skunk would grab the kitty and hug and kiss on it, while it tried to get away from him. Shit. Maybe he was a stalker.

  And his patience was officially at an end.

  “This ain’t your fucking business, Steele. Drop it. Now.”

  But his brother didn’t back down, whether it was due to stupidity, or just balls, Captain couldn’t say. “You’ve bird-dogged her for years when she was with Joker, and she’s been available for fucking ever and you haven’t—”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “The hell you say! I honored the club’s commandments and I’ve never fucked around with another brother’s old lady.”

  The club had a set of rules, or commandments, in place to keep everyone in line and that particular regulation was a big one. Once a brother had laid a claim on a woman she was strictly off limits. Fuck with it at your own peril.

  After Joker went on the inside, he’d only flirted with Eddie. It’d been innocent, mostly. He’d had the vague hope she’d divorce the bastard, but Eddie was loyal. She’d remained married and faithful to Joker, despite everything.

  Steele sighed. “Fine, you technically didn’t break a commandment, but seriously, my brother, are you gonna shit or get off the pot? Make a move on her already. It’s the worst kept secret in the club.”