Bayou Devils MC: The Complete Series

by A. M. Myers

  I pop a fry into my mouth and study him as I chew. He arches a brow, fighting back a smile as he waits for my reply.

  “We’re officially out on our first date and usually, on dates, people get to know each other so it’s time for you to spill.”

  He nods thoughtfully, leaning back as he takes a sip of soda. “You think, huh?”

  “I do.”

  “And what if I disagree?”

  Feeling playful, I dip a fry into my ketchup as I mimic his nod. “That’s your right but usually, girls decide if they’re going to agree to a second date based on how well the first date goes and being so elusive is a big red flag.”

  “Elusive, huh?” he asks, looking out across the fairgrounds as emotion skates over his face.

  “Just tell me one thing. Something real.”

  Our gazes meet over the table and the rest of the world melts away for a second. “One real thing… Okay. I’ve never felt more myself than when I’m with you.”

  “You mean that?” I ask and he nods, sincerity shining through his blue eyes.

  “I do. Now, tell me one thing about you.”

  I roll my eyes to cover up my racing heart and rosy cheeks. “You already know things about me.”

  “I know but I want to know more.”

  I mull over his words as I bite a corn dog in half and chew. “Okay, when my parents were alive, we lived out in the country on this farm. I had a couple horses, two goats, and a pig.”

  “I can picture you out on a farm,” he says with a smile. “Pigtails in your hair and little cowgirl boots on your feet.”

  “You’re actually not far off.”

  “That’s fucking adorable. Please tell me there are pictures.”

  Laughing, I nod. “There might be.”

  “I have to get my hands on those.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I tease. He throws a fry across the table and it smacks me in the face as he laughs. “Now you’re definitely not getting to see them.”

  “What if I say I’m sorry?” he asks, doing his best to look cute and damn it, it’s working.

  “Are you sorry?”

  A grin stretches across his face as he shakes his head. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “What was your pig’s name?” he asks, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. I fight back a smile as my heart flutters.

  “Piglet… I was in a Winnie the Pooh phase.”

  He laughs, that deep warm laugh that I’m quickly falling in love with. “And the goats?”

  “Timon and Pumbaa. Lion King phase.”

  “Let me guess, for the horses you went with a Beauty and the Beast theme.”

  I shake my head. “Nope, close though. Cinderella. Their names were Jaq and Gus Gus.”

  “And your parents never tried to get you to name them something else?” he asks, his blue eyes shining with humor.

  “Oh, of course they did but I was a very determined child.”

  “Who could say no to you?”

  I beam. “Exactly.”

  “You ready to go on some rides?” he asks, glancing down at my almost empty container and I shake my head.

  “Oh, no, mister. You teased me with dancing and now that I’m fed, I’m not missing that.”

  Chuckling, he releases my hand and starts collecting all our trash. “You’re not going to let me forget that, huh?”

  “Not a chance.”

  When he’s finished gathering up our things, he drops the trash in a bin near the picnic table before reaching for my hand and leading me away from the food trucks, toward the sound of music. We round the corner and there is a little pavilion with a stage on one side and a dance floor on the other. On stage, a band plays older country songs and I pull Lucas to the dance floor where a few other couples are swaying back and forth. I gasp as Lucas spins me into his chest and places his hand on my hip as we start to dance along to the music.

  “Hot damn, I guess you weren’t lying.”

  Laughter bursts out of him and I can’t help but smile. “You doubted me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  “I’m hurt,” he whines, bringing our clasped hands to his chest and I shoot him a disbelieving look.

  “You know I have to ask where you learned to dance, though.”

  His smile falls and our steps falter for just a second before he takes a deep breath and pulls me closer. Each time I bring up anything about his past, the tortured expression on his face kills me but I hope that I really am bringing him peace like he said I was.

  “When I was a kid, I had pretty bad insomnia and Iris would stay up with me in the middle of the night to keep me company. We’d watch movies or play cards and she taught me how to dance.”

  “Who’s Iris?”

  “She was our guardian.”

  My nerves rear up as the next question pops into my mind but I press on. “What happened to your parents?”

  “They… they died,” he answers, looking away from me and my heart aches for him. I know his pain all too well and I know that nothing I could say right now would fix anything so I simply lean into him and offer him my silent support.

  “What do you say we go on some rides?” I ask, peeking up at him and relief washes over his face as he nods.

  “Let’s do it.”

  The sky is lit up with oranges and pinks as he steps away from the ticket counter and I drag him over to the Ferris wheel to enjoy the sunset. In the car, he pulls me into his side and I cuddle closer, surprised by how much I’m enjoying the date.

  “Hey, Quinn,” he murmurs on our second trip around the wheel and I glance over at him. “I’m sorry that it’s so hard for me to share my past with you but I want you to know that I’m trying.”

  I nod. “I do know that and if anyone understands, it’s me.”

  “If we’re taking things slow, does that mean I can’t kiss you?”

  I smile as we reach the top of the wheel. “No.”

  “I was really hoping you’d say that,” he whispers as he leans in and cups my cheek. Our gazes meet in the space between us and he smiles before leaning in and claiming my lips in a soft kiss. I melt into him, sighing as a feeling that I can’t quite explain rocks through me and when he pulls away, we’re both quietly gasping for air.

  “One date isn’t going to be enough for me,” he admits and I nod.

  “I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lucas

  Storm nudges me as we walk across the wet grass of the graveyard and I glance over at him, nodding in acknowledgement.

  “Keep your eyes open today, yeah?”

  “You think this bastard’s gonna show up here?” I ask, glancing out at the crowd of people dressed in black gathering around the casket.

  “Not ruling anything out at this point.”

  We move to the back of the crowd as I nod. “Yeah, you got it.”

  Ever since I ran into Rodriguez at the station, we’ve had people checking in on him everyday. The reports remain the same - he’s grieving and determined to find whoever killed Laney and make them pay to the point that he’s obsessed. We’re all worried but putting myself in his shoes, I think he’s handling it all pretty well or at least, as well as any of the rest of us would. I can’t imagine how much Storm, Chance, or Kodiak would lose it if anything happened to the women they love.

  My thoughts drift to Quinn and I fight back a smile that’s not at all appropriate for this funeral. After riding the rides for over an hour last night, we walked over to the booths and I threw down over a hundred dollars to win a little teddy bear for Brooklyn but damn was it worth it to see the smile on Quinn’s face when I handed it to her. I think I’d do just about anything for that smile. Fuck, this girl is doing me in. Not that I care. Being with her just feels right and after all the shit in my life, I’m not going to question it. Especially since I’ve never been able to hang onto anything good for very long.

  The music dies down as the preacher st
eps forward and begins delivering the sermon but my focus is on the guests. I roam the crowd, looking for anything out of place but I don’t see anything. Laney’s parents are sitting by Rodriguez, sobbing over their daughter as Rodriguez struggles to keep it together. The club has formed somewhat of a barrier around the back to watch over everything and I glance over my shoulder to check behind me. A man that looks vaguely familiar is standing about seventy yards back and I scowl, trying to place him before turning to Storm.

  “Five o’clock,” I whisper to him but when we both turn to look back again, he’s gone. Storm moves closer as he scans the crowd in front of us.

  “Did you recognize him?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure. Maybe, but I couldn’t tell you where from. It would be incredibly stupid to show up here though if he was the guy.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees. “Unless he couldn’t enjoy his victory without seeing Diego’s pain.”

  “This is so fucked up.”

  The club has been dealing with some heavy shit for the past six years but this feels different.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Storm whispers as the pastor goes on about God always being with us and I roll my eyes. “I’m getting damn tired of going to funerals.”

  “I’m with you there.” This is the second funeral in the last year and I’ll be happy if we don’t lose anyone else anytime soon. Dana was someone the club helped escape her abusive ex and her death hit us all hard. No matter how many we save, the ones we don’t haunt us all.

  “What did he look like?”

  I shrug. “Like the most average white guy you’ve ever seen. Kinda tall, brown hair, slim.”

  “Perfect,” he grumbles as his wife, Ali, walks up to him and grabs his hand, her pregnant belly poking out in front of her.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks, glancing between the two of us.

  “Yeah, kitten,” he assures her. “Everything is fine.”

  Her gaze snaps to mine before drifting back to her husband. She flashes him a determined look and I lean back against the tree to watch the show, fighting back a smile.

  “Logan James Chambers, don’t you dare lie to me.”

  He growls and pulls her into his body. “We will discuss this later, woman.”

  Laney’s parents stand with Rodriguez right on their heels as they approach the casket and each lay a single rose on top. Rodriguez lingers for a minute, his hand pressed against the closed lid of the casket and a single tear falls down his cheek. He quickly wipes it away and returns to his seat as the second row of chairs lays more roses on the top followed by the third and so on until there is a pile of flowers adorning her coffin.

  The preacher finishes his sermon and steps back as two men in work uniforms step forward and start lowering the casket into the ground amid the sound of sniffles and tears. Kodiak and Moose make their way through the crowd and join our group.

  “You guys see anything?” Kodiak asks.

  “Maybe. He disappeared before I could get a good look, though.”

  He sighs and nods. “Shit.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Where’s your lady?”

  “She wanted to come but said she couldn’t do another funeral.” Kodiak met Tate six months ago when her mom passed away and I don’t blame her for skipping this one. I nod.

  “Y’all headed back to the clubhouse for the wake?” Moose asks and I shake my head.

  “I gotta go try and find my brother.”

  Kodiak sighs and I shake my head.

  “Don’t fucking start with me.”

  “You’re killing yourself with this and he doesn’t even care, Smith.”

  “I said “don’t”,” I grumble even though he’s right. Clay doesn’t care that his addiction is eating away at me just as much as it is him but what else can I do? Abandon him?

  “Just give it a break. At least for today,” he reasons and I shake my head.

  “Can’t. Tell Rodriguez I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” I say as I back away from them. No one tries to stop me as I walk to my truck and once I’m inside, I lay my head against the headrest and take a deep breath.

  My phone buzzes with a text and I dig it out of my pocket.

  Quinn:

  Thank you for last night.

  I smile, my stress melting away for a second as I type out my reply.

  Me:

  Pretty sure that’s my line.

  When can I see you again?

  Instead of waiting for her reply, I decide to get my search over with so I can hopefully stop by and see Quinn and Brooklyn tonight. On my list of to-dos, that is the only thing I really want to do.

  I pull away from the cemetery as the rest of the guys climb on their bikes and I turn toward Clay’s favorite place to get high, hoping I don’t have to search too hard tonight. Kodiak’s statement keeps repeating in my head and the more I think about it, the angrier I get. I know that he’s absolutely right. Clay doesn't care about anything but the drugs. It is his sole focus and nothing else matters, not even me and each night I go out searching for him, I want to throw in the towel. Why am I killing myself when he doesn’t give a shit? But I know if I gave up and he died from an overdose, I would never forgive myself. Sometimes, though, that just makes me hate him more.

  Pulling into the parking lot of a dingy old bar on the outskirts of town, one of Clay’s favorite hang-outs, I park my truck in the back of the lot and smash my fists against the steering wheel again and again until my hands drop weakly into my lap. As I look up at the door to the bar, I consider leaving and never looking back but something, maybe my guilt or the fear of being completely alone, keeps me moving forward. With a heavy sigh, I turn off the truck and climb out. There are a few people hanging out around the entrance but other than that, the lot is quiet. No one would come to a place like this unless they were looking for trouble. Which is exactly why Clay likes it.

  As soon as I walk in, I want to turn right around and leave but I press on, working my way into the smoke-filled room as my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. A painfully thin woman glances up at me from behind the bar and I nod.

  “Clay here?”

  She points to the back room and I mutter a “thank you” as I pass her. As I step into the back room, I stop and take in the scene, my stomach turning at the bodies draped over every available surface - their eyes glassy and vacant.

  Jesus Christ.

  My gaze drifts to the corner of the room and I release a breath at the sight of Clay curled up in a chair. His hair is greasy and it looks like he hasn’t eaten anything since he walked away from me four days ago. Sighing, I run my hand through my hair before making my way across the room and crouching down in front of him.

  “Clay?” I whisper, shaking him a little and his head slowly turns to look at me but his eyes are empty. There’s a pipe in his lap and I shake my head as I grab it and set it on the coffee table behind me as a deep, aching sadness takes hold of me. How did everything go so wrong? How did we end up here? Pushing down my pain, I put my hands around my brother and pull him out of the chair. I try to encourage him to support his own weight but it becomes clear fairly quickly that he can’t and tears burn my eyes as I lift him into my arms and turn toward the door.

  “Luke,” he whispers, his eyes drifting closed and I jostle him to keep him conscious as I carry him back into the bar.

  “Yeah, I’m here, bud. Stay with me.”

  He opens his eyes and licks his dry, cracked lips. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I assure him and his eyes close again. It’s dark when I step outside and once I get him to the truck, I buckle him into the passenger seat and press my fingers to his neck to check his pulse. I release a breath when the steady beat of his heart pounds against my fingers and I drop my head, a mix of relief and anger flooding my body. I’ve gotten so used to this, so accustomed that I’d forgotten how fucked up it was to spend my night hunting the city for my drugged out brother. It wasn’t until I met Quinn
that I was able to look at this all with new eyes and it makes me sick.

  Glancing up again, I stare at his face as I try to decide where to take him tonight. Usually, we’d go back to the clubhouse but I don’t want to interrupt the wake and I’m in no mood to be around a bunch of people right now. That only leaves one option but it’s one I’ve been avoiding. With a sigh, I push off the truck and slam the door before rounding the front and slipping behind the wheel. He doesn’t even stir as I fire the truck up and pull out of the parking lot.

  As I drive toward Iris’s house, I try to think of what I’m going to say to her, how I’m going to explain all this but I know no matter what I say or how I say it, she’s going to be disappointed in me and that kills me. I’ve failed at protecting my brother and I certainly don’t need her to tell me that but I also know that I can’t do this alone anymore.

  Her house is dark as I pull into the driveway but as I turn the truck off, the front porch lights turn on and Iris steps out of the house, clutching her robe around her.

  “Lucas? What are you doing here so late?” she asks, squinting into the darkness as her voice drifts in through the open window. I open the door and climb down.

  “I need your help.”

  Her gaze darts to the passenger seat. I don’t know how well she can see Clay through the windshield but after a moment, she nods and I walk around to the other door and yank it open. Clay opens his eyes for a second before they drift closed again and I lift him out of the truck.

  “Oh my god,” Iris breathes as I step around the front of the truck with Clay’s body in my arms and she runs over to me, fear marring her pretty face. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s high,” I answer, my voice lifeless as I continue walking to the front door and her soft gasp drives a stake through my heart. She’s stunned but after a second, she catches up with me and holds the front door open for me as I carry Clay into the house.

  “Take him to his old bedroom.”

  I nod and turn toward the hallway, leaving her in the dining room. Clay’s room is just as he left it and I guess that makes sense since neither one of us technically moved out. I lay him in his bed and pull the covers over him before checking his pulse again. His heart is still beating steadily and I sigh as I step away from the bed and leave him to sleep.