Devil May Care (Four Horsemen MC Book 4) (4 page)

The boys were playing on the living room rug with the Hot Wheels they’d gotten for Christmas. They were making vrooming sounds as they pushed them around, laughing. Happy. They had no idea what was going on and she vowed to keep it from them as long as she could. Preserve that façade of normalcy.

She’d been keeping it together, keeping busy. So, she cooked. A big pot of chili bubbled away on the stove. She’d been cleaning, too, and the house was spotless. She’d paid the bills, balanced her checkbook, gone to the grocery store. Now, she was out of mindless errands to occupy her time.

It wasn’t like she could call the police and say something like ‘I’d like to report my husband missing. He left to do something illegal, don’t ask me what, and hasn’t been seen since’. The law offered no protection, no recourse.

She’d dialed every number in their address book. None of the old ladies knew anything, although she hadn’t really expected them to.  The brothers kept them in the dark about these types of things for their own protection. But all of the brothers were missing. No one had received a phone call and that was bad news.

Deadly news.

No, she couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t give into the fear. She had to keep it together, if only for the boys’ sake.

Freddy walked into the kitchen, a model of the General Lee clutched in his small hand, a replica of the one driven by the outlaws on the show, Dukes of Hazzard. The boys both loved the Duke boys, and they watched it with their daddy, hootin’ and hollerin’ as the brothers got out of one scrape after another.

He looked up at her, his tiny face solemn. “When’s he gonna be home?”

“Soon, kiddo.” God, she hoped she hadn’t just lied to him.  

He watched her carefully, uncertainty evident in his gaze.  Even at the tender age of seven, he could pick up on her worry. She forced herself to smile at him, brighten her expression. “Why don’t you go back in there and play, okay? I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

He seemed to take her at her word, and ran off as fast as his short legs would carry him.

That’s when Captain walked in the back door. She startled at the sudden intrusion, nearly dropping her coffee cup, but he pressed a finger to his mouth and then nodded to the living room. The boys were loud again, busy driving their toy cars around, both engrossed in their game.

He was bloody, it ran from the corner of his mouth, streaking down his shirt. Her stomach clenched. Eddie wet a paper towel in the sink and started to clean him up.  His lip had split and his right eye had swollen nearly shut. It had turned a grisly purplish black color. The knuckles on both of his hands were skinned.

“What happened?” she whispered. “Is Joker okay?”

 “He’s been arrested, along with the rest of the club members…the ones who survived,” he said hoarsely.

Eddie was nearly dizzy with relief. Prison was better than dead.  She dabbed at his mouth. “How did you get away?”

“The brothers told me to stay back. They had me watch the parking lot in case the uh….. people we were meeting brought back up.”

“The Raptors?” she guessed. She didn’t know much about them, but every now and then Joker had let the odd comment slip.  She had a feeling they were building to a feud with them and it spelled big trouble for the Horsemen.

“You know I can’t talk about it,” he said quickly. “I jumped in when I heard the ruckus going on inside. But then the feds got there, and I freaked the fuck out and bolted, got away in the confusion. There were too many of us to round up.”

“The feds?!” she muttered furiously, her mind racing. God, this was serious. As in RICO, serious. It wasn’t some rinky dink local issue, meaning Joker could get put away for twenty-five years or more. Maybe life.  She’d read in the paper where the feds had tried to use it on the Hell’s Angels and nearly succeeded in tearing down their club.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah, it’s bad. Real bad.”

Not only for the club, but for her and the boys, too. Suddenly, all the implications flashed before her eyes.  They’d grow up without a father.  She wouldn’t have her husband. She started to blindly panic, her mind searching out the worst possible case scenarios. The life they’d built would crumble into ash. And what of the financial repercussions? Without Joker’s income, she and the boys would be out in the streets.

She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm the hell down, think logically. “Who do they have?”

“Everyone. The Prez, the VP, all of the officers.”

Holy shit.  “You’ve got to turn yourself in,” she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “They’ll figure out you’re missing sooner or later.  And being a fugitive is a great way to get shot.”

 “I’m going to turn myself in, but I wanted you to know what happened.”

“Who ratted?” she said, fiercely. Someone must have exposed the club.

He stared at their joined hands. “I don’t know.”

She knew he was only a prospect, a kid, and tonight his world had caved in, too. But she needed his help. “Find him, Captain, whoever did it. Shut this down. For all our sakes.” Eddie had asked him to do something way above his paygrade, but desperate times and all that shit.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah. I’m on it.”

Eddie came back to the present as a car passed her on the road. She’d thought this whole federal thing was behind her –in the rearview. But no.  Now, she had another fight on her hands.

She stubbed out her cigarette and took off down the street, tires screeching.
Dear God, please, don’t let the sins of the father be visited on his sons.

Chapter Three

“I call this meeting to order.”

Captain banged the gavel on the table and the Horsemen quieted. The entire gang was there–Shep, Ransom, Ryker, Axel, Ace, Steele, Coyote, Cowboy, Duke, Justice, Wild, Renegade, and of course, Goat.  

They were seated in the boardroom, located in the back hallway at Perdition. The space had been designed to intimidate. The steel entrance doors had been stamped with the image of a stallion’s head, along with the club’s name. A quote from Revelations had been carved into the long oak table dominating the room:
Behold a pale horse. And his name that sat on him was Death. And Hell followed with him.

To match it, another Bible quote in a frame hung on the wall
: And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.

Captain continued on. “Normally, we’d go through old business, then new business, but we don’t have time today. I have an announcement for the club.” He quickly explained the FBI’s intention to dig into the Raptors and how it might lead to some unwelcome federal attention on their club as well.

“Let me remind you what happened the last time the FBI came to town,” he said. “The club fucking imploded. The brothers who didn’t die in the shootout, got carted off to federal prison. This time we’re gonna be smart about it, keep our mouths shut, and our noses clean, until they get the fuck out of here. Understood?”

The brothers nodded in agreement.

“But
we
aren’t being investigated?” Axel asked.

“That’s right,” Captain said. “Well, not
yet
, anyway, but the feds aren’t completely stupid. They’ll figure out we had something to do with the brothel raid and start questioning us, so we need to be prepared. Does everyone know the rules when you get hauled in by law enforcement?”

There were a couple of nods around the table, but he gave it to them again, in case anybody was feelin’ forgetful. “Number one, shut the fuck up. You got the right, so use it. Number two, ask for a fucking lawyer. Ours is a fancy pants law firm in Dallas. Shep will text you the number. Number three, call either me or Shep.”

Captain turned to Coyote. “A lot of this shit is gonna fall on you, brother. We need you to lock down our communications.”

“Holy fuck,” Coyote groaned.  “You aren’t kidding. The eye of Sauron is on us.”

Cap didn’t have a clue what he was going on about and judging from the blank stares around the table, he doubted the brothers did either.  He’d given up long ago trying to understand Coyote. So much technobabble came out of the kid’s mouth, he usually tuned it out.

“I don’t speak nerd,” Steele said with a grunt. “What the fuck is Sauron?”

Coyote scowled.  “Sauron, you know,” he said, folding his hands into an oval. “The all-seeing eye?”

Steele shook his head.

“Mount Doom,
the precious,
tricksy hobbits with hairy feet?”

Steele shrugged. “Why don’t you pull your tin foil hat down over your ears?”

“I’m talkin’ about
the man
,” Coyote said, widening his eyes. “The FBI is gonna get all up in our business. We need to be more careful. Maybe even cagey.” He glanced at Captain. “I’m thinkin’ we should start speakin’ in code. Any of you know Klingon?”

“That’s a Star Trek thing,” Ryker said, piping up. A few of the guys nodded in understanding. “Are they the pointy ears ones?”

“No!” Coyote snapped. “You guys suck. I’m
so
unappreciated.”

“Naw, brother, I got you,” Shep put in.

Coyote tapped his chest and then raised two fingers. “Represent!”

Cap had no idea what the hell that was. A Boy Scout signal?

“Uh, yeah,” Shep said. “Despite the nerd talk, Yo is right. We gotta be more careful, especially when using our cells.”

 “I’m gonna buy a new round of prepaid jobs for you guys and your old ladies, too,” Coyote said. “Everyone needs to pitch their old phones and before you do, stomp on them real good.  We don’t want to leave any texts or pictures on them in case anyone gets snoopy in the garbage.”

 Club members didn’t purchase phone plans from major carriers because those records were too easily accessible to the law. The throwaway phones were nearly untraceable, especially if you paid cash and chucked them every few months.

 “I should also do more bug sweeps,” Coyote said.

He normally did them once a month. Captain had found a touch of paranoia could save your ass on occasion. So, they swept the club businesses and the brothers’ houses to make sure no one listened in on their conversations.

“Sounds good,” Captain said. “The feds are nosy bastards and we don’t need to give them any reason to dig deeper into our operations. Take a prospect or two with you to help.”

“Will do, Cap,” Coyote agreed. Then, he addressed the rest of the brothers. “Also, since we aren’t gonna use Klingon, be careful what you say and where you say it. There are lots of ways the FBI can listen in on your phone. For example, there’s a machine called a Stingray. It mimics a cell tower, and all the phones in the area are tricked into communicating with it. So, pretend your momma is listenin’ to every word that comes outta your mouth.” He raised a brow at Steele. “Except for you. You shouldn’t say squat.”

“Why?” Steele asked, blinkin’.

“You probably don’t give a shit what your momma thinks,” Coyote said, making a face.

Steele gave a cocky grin. “Damn straight.”

Captain ignored the banter and turned to his vice-president. “Shep, can you get the prospects squared away? They’re new and who knows what the fuck they're liable to let slip.” He found it
especially
ironic he was delivering this advice. “And assign some to Coyote.”

“I’m on it, Cap,” Shep agreed. “We got the rally coming up, too. This couldn’t be worse fucking timing.”

Oh, fuck it all.

He’d forgotten all about the biker rally. The Hell chapter hosted a big ass party for all the Horsemen chapters and it was happening in three weeks. They needed to get this FBI shit cleared up before the brothers came blazin’ into town or it could get real ugly, real fast. The brothers didn’t believe in obeyin’ most of the laws.

 “Nothing we can do about it now,” Captain said. “Let’s hope the feds get out of here sooner, rather than later.” But Captain knew from experience they always took their sweet ass time and they gave you more than enough rope to hang yourself with.

***

In the early evening, Eddie knocked off work to make some moonshine.

Ryker had taken over for her and she picked up Pretty Boy in one of the club’s trucks and they headed for her brand spankin’ new warehouse, a concrete building with blacked-out windows, on the rural end of Devil Run Rd. She’d earned enough from her business to purchase it outright a few weeks ago.

 Even the term moonshine hinted at illegality. Shiners made it by the light of the moon, so they wouldn’t get caught. And Eddie followed suit, only brewing at night. Moonshiners typically worked during late summer and early fall when corn was at its cheapest and most plentiful. Since it was late October, this would be her last batch until April or May.

 At one time, the warehouse had been used by a tractor supply company, but it had gone under a couple of years ago. It was a simple building, concrete floors, steel roof and walls. She’d added the still equipment, some stainless steel counters, and shelving for the ‘shine.

 It was the perfect place to make some ‘shine—no neighbors for miles. Nothing nearby, but farmer fields and the hot springs which snaked through town. The heated spring water sometimes held a note of sulfur and tonight the smell was particularly strong. She loved to distill when the rotten-egg smell of the mineral-rich water obliterated the pungent scent of moonshine mash.

 “Are you ready, Pretty Boy?!” she asked as he backed up to the loading dock. She sat beside him in the truck cab, itching to get started.   

 “Let’s do it,” he said with a grin.

 Pretty Boy’s road name suited him well. His face was equally proportioned, with wide-spaced bright green eyes, and full carnal-looking lips.  He had a shock of jet black hair and, and it made him wildly popular with the hellions. They flocked to the prospect, like he was a member of a boy band.