Hell or High Water (The Four Horsemen MC Book 8)

by Rayne, Sara

  Over the next two days, Lex threw herself into planning, relishing the time spent with Josie and Boone. Along with picking up decorations and special-ordering ingredients, the cousins had shown her the town. Everywhere they went, they carried stacks of flyers to pass out at local businesses.

  Boone assured her mixing business and pleasure was his specialty. They’d taken her all through the French Quarter, for a picnic at Lafayette Cemetery, dancing until dawn on Bourbon Street. There wasn’t a café within twenty blocks she hadn’t ordered a beignet from. Boone seemed to know the owner of every establishment—procuring them free drinks and food in exchange for the massive orders he placed for the party.

  When they dragged themselves home, haggard from the day’s adventures, Phee rounded them up, scolded them soundly, then stuffed them full of local dishes and delicacies she’d never tasted before.

  What did Voo like to say? Food that feeds your soul.

  Therein lay the problem. She couldn’t escape Voodoo here. Lex expected to find him around every corner. The scent of magnolias and Creole cooking drifted on the wind, invading her dreams through her open windows.

  His scent, his touch, his voice…

  Stop it.

  Lex was able to control her thoughts most of the time, but tonight, Voo—in his leather pants, on his sleek bike—rode in continuous loops through her mind. She’d been on the phone with Coyote all day yesterday, setting up the last-minute social media blitz for the Baron Samedi Feast They’d posted the news of tonight’s party in every corner of the internet. Talking to Coyote had been nice. Although Miss Hot Topic had never found him, apparently, Lex couldn’t help envisioning him in the middle of Hades Diner.

  Was Voo with him? Cooking in the back or watching the dining room servers? Did he miss her?

  Every time a text popped up from Coyote or Dani, or even Eddie checking in, she was disappointed the second she saw it wasn’t from Voo. Sometimes she wished she’d kept her mouth shut about her feelings and endured the hell of unresolved sexual tension. Then at least he would still be her friend.

  The sound of the band setting up out back drifted through the open window, shaking her from the thought.

  The party preparations were about to start, and she needed to get ready. Josie had lent her an ivy-green silk dress, soft and sheer as smoke, with spaghetti straps and a loosely draped neckline. It dipped along her collarbones and dripped off the sides of the bodice like ruffled butterfly wings.

  With the humidity of New Orleans, Lex didn’t bother with heavy makeup. It would only run down her face. She dusted on some powder, lined her eyes with black, and smudged a silver shimmer over her eyelids. She’d just finished applying a layer of nude gloss when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Are you decent?” Boone called from the other side.

  “Yep, come in.”

  “…because I never am,” he finished as he opened the door. He paused, and the silence caught her attention.

  Lex looked up. His gaze fixed on her, traveling slowly down then back up her body as if she was a freshly laid out dessert spread. The interest on his face didn’t feel like a charming act this time. Genuine male approval laced his perusal.

  She swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

  “You are stunning, ma chérie.”

  Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Boone wasn’t a possibility when she still had feelings for Voodoo, but she enjoyed the admiration all the same. It felt good to be desired.

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  “What kind of idiot would ever turn you loose?” Boone shook his head.

  A motorcycle engine ripped through the quiet of the night. Lex’s pulse fluttered.

  Can’t be. Not fucking possible.

  All thoughts of Boone vanished as she headed through the French doors to the balcony. The roaring motor got louder, coming closer. She stepped out into the waning afternoon sun, spying the bike snaking up the driveway.

  Lex held her breath.

  “Chérie? Are you alright?” Boone now stood beside her.

  “I will be.” Her head buzzed, barely aware of what she was saying, unable to discern if it was meant to reassure Boone or herself.

  Every repair she’d made to her bruised heart ripped apart at the sight of the black Devil’s Advocate Chopper winding its way between the live oaks toward the cul-de-sac. Her hands clenched on the railing.

  Voodoo.

  She’d know his broad shoulder line anywhere. She had fantasized about those muscled arms for endless hours in the diner while pretending to work on her thesis. Secretly, she’d been examining the playful fall of his dreads, memorizing the way the shade of his silvery eyes shifted with his moods, studying the kindness of his smile.

  “Fils putain,” Boone muttered. Son of a bitch.

  The blood rushed in her ears so loud she barely heard him. Voo pulled up in front of the Chance and cut the engine. Her breath hitched. The last time she’d seen him, she’d been gathering her clothes in his bedroom.

  “Lex, I must tell you something.”

  “Can it wait, Boone?” Lex willed Voodoo to see her, terrified of what would happen when he did. Why had he come for her now? Had he changed his mind?

  “Non.”

  She searched for a polite way to blow him off, but the naked guilt shining on his face struck her. “What is it?”

  Phee’s dry voice floated on the wind, interrupting his confession. “Look what the tide dragged in. If it isn’t Rafael Crocker. Didn’t think you’d have the gall to darken my door again.”

  Rafael Crocker. Voodoo’s legal name.

  Voo answered, his soft Creole more pronounced than she’d ever heard it. “Hello, Phee.”

  What. The. Ever-lovin’. Fuck.

  “Lex, I can explain….” Josie appeared in the doorway behind her cousin, wringing her hands like she was about to make a presentation in class.

  Lex folded her arms. “Yes, I think an explanation is in order.”

  ***

  When Voo was eighteen, he had talked a guy out of shooting him for stealing his wallet. Cool as a cucumber with a gun barrel pressed against his forehead. It had been less terrifying than climbing off his bike right now and facing Phee for the first time in over a decade.

  Phee had been a great beauty in her day, and though her hair held more gray streaks and her face more lines, she still had the same innate grace he remembered—and the same stern I ain’t takin’ your shit, boy expression.

  Memories flooded him of days spent practicing card tricks with Boone on these steps while his grand-mére and Phee sipped sweet tea in the rocking chairs on the porch.

  A greasy man in a shiny porter uniform appeared behind him in the driveway. “Ms. Phee, is everything alright?”

  He narrowed his eyes. Today’s not the day to give me a reason to hit you. “And if it wasn’t, what would you be doin’ about it?”

  “Quit actin’ like your daddy’s people,” Phee snapped.

  Voo stiffened, hunching his shoulders. She knew exactly who his daddy’s people were—she’d meant the comment to sting.

  “We’re fine, Johnny. Keep the guests away from here for a moment.”

  “Yes, of course.” He bustled off.

  “Well, what do you want, boy?” Phee crossed the porch. Her dark glasses reflected his sullen face as she approached.

  Refocused on his purpose, a muscle pulsed in Voo’s jaw. He was the one with reason to be upset here. Straightening his spine, he folded his arms behind his back. “I made it clear I didn’t want to be a part of this life anymore.”

  “Oui. We ain’t exactly been invitin’ you to the family reunions.” Phee snorted. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”

  “We did.” Boone stepped forward.

  She stiffened. “You did what, now?”

  Voo’s chest tightened. Boone’s olive skin and hazel eyes came from his dad, but he had Phee’s poise and defined cheekbones. The years had been more th
an kind to him. But then, Boone always had more luck than most.

  Their gazes locked. The last time they stood on this porch, Voo had told Boone he couldn’t be Best Man in the wedding. He hadn’t wanted Artie to know where he came from. Boone had told him he didn’t deserve to have someone stand up with him at his sham of a marriage ceremony anyway.

  The harsh words of the memory echoed in his ears.

  “Boone. You look well.”

  “So do you. For a dead man.” He leaned against the doorway and folded his arms.

  The picture of Lex in Boone’s lap flashed before Voo’s eyes. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Takes one to know one.”

  “You gonna scrap and get this over with or what? The party’s startin’ in two hours.” Phee smacked her cane against a column, the loud strike reverberating through the porch and in the soles of Voo’s motorcycle boots. “We ain’t got all damn day.”

  “I’m not here to fight.” He forced his shoulders to relax. Voo had come here to rescue Lex from Boone’s hidden agenda, not to take a swing at him on the front lawn of the Chance.

  “Clearly.” Phee nodded behind Boone.

  Lex.

  The sight of her was like a mule kick to his gut.

  Her blonde hair cascaded around her delicate features, tumbling over the perfect line of her shoulders bared by the wisp of green silk she wore. Her gaze locked on his face as if she’d been standing there, waiting for him to see her. He swallowed, wondering how much she’d heard—how much the Brulés had told her.

  Her peach-hued lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she remained silent, eyes eating him alive. His fists clenched. “Lex.”

  Seeing her on the porch he’d played on as a child threw him. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he didn’t like it one bit.

  “You can’t break a heart and expect just showin’ up will mend it.” Phee adjusted her dark glasses. “A fight’s the least of your worries, boy.”

  “What’s between me and Lex—”

  “Shut your mouth before somethin’ stupid falls out of it.” She faced him, lips hard and tight. “I’m talkin’ about my heart, fool. You was a son to me. Just because you ran away and forgot about us, don’t mean we did the same.”

  “Phee…I didn’t forget you.” Voo rocked back on his heels. He’d sacrificed this family for the life he’d wanted with Artie and come out of the deal empty handed. He hadn’t been able to face them. “Y’all told me I was dead to you long before the storm ever hit. There was nothing left for me here.”

  “You didn’t go to your gran’s funeral. I would have liked to forget about you.”

  “I honored the dead in my own way.” He glanced at the rapt audience of Boone, Lex, and Josie behind Phee, his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to do this in front of them. “Don’t judge me, Phee. Not for that. I loved her. And I’ve carried the shame of failing her every day—every day—since I lost her.”

  “Running away was a funny way to show it.”

  “My many sins aside, your issues with me do not justify using Lex to lure me out here.” His choices had been made long ago. He hadn’t come here to answer for them.

  The blood drained from Lex’s pretty face. Her fists clenched as she turned to Boone and Josie. They stared back at her, eyes wide and mouths gaping like goldfish.

  Voo hated causing Lex more pain, but she deserved the truth.

  “Y’all figure this hot mess out your own damn selves. I got a party to prep for. Maybe you can get your jawin’ done in time to lend me a hand in the kitchen.” Phee shook her head, gesturing at the lot of them with her cane.

  Coyote had filled Voo in on the details of the party. Apparently, Lex had asked for help with some online marketing.

  “Ow!” Boone jumped as Phee smacked him in the arm with her cane on her way inside.

  “Damn fool boy. I love ya, but there’s a time to let a sleeping dog lie—like when he moves to Texas and joins a motorcycle gang so he never has to see your ass again.”

  Boone stiffened as he focused on Voodoo. He rubbed his chest as if pained. “Rafe….”

  “Rafe died in the flood.”

  “Is he supposed to call you Simon?” Lex’s tone was sharp, and he flinched at the name. She looked at Boone. “He’s your friend. The one who screwed you over and abandoned you? You were talking about Voodoo.”

  Her summary of his and Boone’s relationship was a slap to Voo’s pride. His mouth snapped shut.

  “Oui,” Boone answered.

  “And how exactly did you use me to lure him here?” Lex articulated every syllable.

  “The picture.” Boone’s lips curved.

  “Picture?”

  “Of you on my lap, ma chérie.” Boone raised a brow at Voo. “You always come runnin’ for the girl, non?”

  He was going to wipe the smug expression off the bastard’s face in a minute.

  “Wait…you planned the picture? To get to him?” Her voice sounded small, lost. “I thought you said no woman deserved to be taken for granted?”

  Boone’s eyes widened. “I—”

  “Guess it doesn’t apply to me.”

  I’m so sorry, ma petite.

  After everything he’d done to protect Lex from his past, she’d still been dragged into it. She was hurting because of Voo. Again.

  “You won’t like what happens if you try using my friends to get to me again.” Voodoo stepped closer to Boone, shoulders widening and muscles bunching with menace.

  “My apologies.” Boone’s eyes flashed. “You didn’t take friendship so seriously when last we knew one another.”

  “Enough with the insults. You wanted me here, and here I am. What do you want?”

  Josie looked between Boone and Voodoo, as if trying to suss out whether a couple of stray tomcats were about to get into it on her porch. He’d barely recognized her full-grown. She explained, “Phee is going to lose the Chance. We’re in deep to Apollo, and if we can’t give him a hundred grand by next week, he’s gonna foreclose.”

  “Apollo is a bastard. What did you expect when you got in bed with him?”

  “Same thing you expected when you got in bed with his sister,” Boone spat. “To get screwed in return for a chance at a better future. The difference is, we’re tryin’ to save our home. Our family. Not abandon them.”

  “Believe me, I did you a favor.” The pain he’d caused them hardened his resolve to keep these people at a safe distance. He couldn’t be the man they’d known again. He didn’t want to be. “I’m sorry you’re going to lose the Chance, but I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

  “Apollo wants Mt. Olympus more than he wants the Chance.” Boone uncrossed his arms.

  “You want me to make a trade.” Voo closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lex hovered on the edge of the group, her observant presence buzzing in his periphery—reminding him she bore witness to all the dirty laundry being aired.

  “You can help us.” Josie cupped her hands together, eyes wide and imploring. “We’ve been trying for months to raise the money. We’ve only got half of it, but we’ll give you everything we’ve scraped together. Please, Rafael. We’re running out of options.”

  “It’s not about money.” He shook his head. Why did everyone think he was so desperate for funds? He owned his own business, for crying out loud. But he knew the answer. Once poor swamp-trash, always poor swamp-trash. “I’m sorry, no. I cannot do this for you.”

  Boone grabbed Voo’s shoulder. “I loved you as a brother. You grew up here as much as I did. Doesn’t the Chance mean anything to you? She’s the only thing left of our childhood.”

  He looked into Boone’s hazel eyes and regret flooded him. “I wish it had all washed away. I don’t want to be tied to this godforsaken place.” The hand dropped from his shoulder. “I’ve squared with that. Maybe you should, too. Salt the earth and move on.”

  Boone’s eyes flashed. “Then get rid of Mt. Olympus. Why keep it when you
hate New Orleans so much? Or is it me you hate? Is this punishment for telling you the truth about Artie?”

  Voo hadn’t realized how personally Boone had taken his leaving. They hadn’t been on speaking terms when the hurricane hit. He’d assumed Boone thought Voo had died in the flood.

  And he’d been happy to play along. As far as he was concerned, the man who’d been Boone’s friend and Phee’s pseudo-son had died the day Boone told him not to bother coming around anymore.

  “I’m not giving up Mt. Olympus because I’m too smart to turn something I love over to Apollo Devine and his shady investors.”

  “We were desperate. We needed help,” Boone gritted out.

  “So you go to Apollo? After his sister died in the collapse of a house he built, after all those people in the development drowned because his shoddy buildings fell apart, you gave him the keys to your castle?” Fury quaked through his body. He hadn’t expected them to be on his side, but he’d never imagined they would cozy up to Apollo. “You disowned me for my connection to the Devines, you fuckin’ hypocrite. I’m not bailing you out this time. Lay in the bed you made.”

  “Not like we didn’t come to you first.” Boone’s eyes narrowed. “You refused to see me.”

  “What do you want me to do, Boone? Go back and change the past? This is why you should leave this shit behind you.” Voo shook himself, drawing a breath. He continued in a calmer tone, “Doesn’t matter, anyway. Apollo and I hate each other. He’ll refuse if only to spite me.”

  “How do you know if you don’t ask?” Josie protested. “Apollo doesn’t care about the Chance—just the check he’ll get from selling her off to whatever chain wants her.”

  It was a real asshole move. Exactly why he couldn’t let Apollo desecrate Mt. Olympus.

  “I’d return from the grave to stop Apollo from stealing Artemis’s hotel.”

  “It would’ve been his hotel, too. If she hadn’t died, Apollo would still be a half-owner.” Boone stepped closer. “She’s dead, Rafe. She’s not coming back to the hotel. Let it go. You keep saying you moved on. Not how it looks to me.”