Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) (8 page)

Ash had only been serious about one man.

“Mind if I sit a spell? Join you for breakfast?” He made a sweeping gesture at the opposite side of the booth.

She wanted to refuse. The less she interacted with the bikers, the better. Getting in deeper with a criminal element wouldn’t be great for her career or her temper. However, a lifetime of southern manners dictated she invite him to eat with her. Damn it, why couldn’t she have been born up north? Being rude was a lot more socially acceptable north of the Mason-Dixon line.

“Be my guest.”

Ash vowed to load up on supplies–vegetables, fruit, juice, along with some healthy snacks like nuts and rice cakes, and some drinks. She shouldn’t socialize with the bikers if she could help it.

“What brings you to Hell?” He slipped into the booth.

Evidently, word that she’d be working with the Horsemen hadn’t spread, so she decided to have some fun. “Business.”

He leaned closer. “What kind of business?”

Another handsome man hurried over to the table. He was young, mid- or early twenties with blue eyes and blond, spiky hair. “Hi, I’m Angel, and I’ll be your server today. Would you like coffee?”

“Oh, yes, please.” She allowed herself exactly one cup a day, although if she had her way, she’d drink an entire pot. Especially today.

“You’re late getting over here, prospect. We’ve been here forever.”

“Sorry, Ace.”

Prospect meant a new member. She’d done her Biker 101 homework when she’d taken this case. In the Marines, they called them grunts, and higher-ups made their lives a living hell until they got into the groove of things. Ash smirked. She missed those days.

“Got any menus, Angel?”

Ace answered the question. “Voo doesn’t let you order. Instead, he brings you something he knows you’ll enjoy.”

“No can do.  I eat healthy food.”

“Oh, he makes healthy food.”

She raised a disbelieving brow.

“I’ve seen Captain eat turkey sausage and egg whites here.” He leaned back in the booth, spreading his arms wide along the back of the seat.

So she didn’t order any food, but Angel returned in a few minutes with their coffees. And she put exactly two spoonfuls of honey in hers. She didn’t use refined sugar or artificial sweeteners either. She’d broken her habit of using real cream and sugar, but it’d been painful.  Ace added a couple packets of Dixie Crystals to his.

Another man sidled up to their table. He stood a couple inches over six feet tall with mocha skin and extraordinary silvery eyes. His dark hair was twisted into short dreadlocks and came down to right below his ears.

“
Bonjour
,” he greeted Ace. 

Ace nodded. “Mornin’, Voo.”

“
Bonjour
,
mademoiselle
.” He grasped her hand and brushed a kiss along the back of her knuckles. She couldn’t quite place his accent. Creole, maybe? It had a dash of French united with a bit of Southern and a trace of Spanish. “Welcome to Hades. I own and operate this fine establishment.”

“Good mornin’.” She was charmed by his demeanor, despite herself.

“You must be the famous Ashton Calhoun.” Voo studied her for a moment.

She widened her eyes.

“Axel and Steele texted me last night. I’m Voodoo, the Vice President. We don’t have many outsiders here, and I put two and two together.”

“How come I didn’t hear about this?” Ace scowled.

“You didn’t need to know.”

“Yeah, I bet.” He turned to Ash. “Word to the wise, Voodoo’s got some freaky ass intuition powers, so watch yourself.”

“Is it my problem all your thoughts are posted on your forehead just waiting for me to read them?” He glanced at Ash. “You’ll find I’m very perceptive, which ain’t my fault.”

Somehow, she found it unsettling.

“Hey, wait.” Ace frowned. “What did you say about Steele texting?”

“Ashton is a former
amour
of Steele’s,” Voo explained.

She rolled her eyes. “Steele’s
not
my boyfriend. Never has been and never will be. He’s just an old friend.”
Hmph. Friend? Enemy’s more like it.

When she looked up, Voo watched her with curious eyes. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

“You belong to Steele?” Ace eased out of the booth with a long face as though she’d come down with a sudden case of leprosy.  

She gritted her teeth. “No, pay attention. I don’t
belong
to Steele or anyone else. Last time I checked, this was a free country.”

Voo watched the interplay with interest, his gaze flicking back and forth between them. “Steele has no claim on you?”

“
Oui
,” she said dryly, mocking his accent. “We’re partners, but only to solve this Raptor case. Nothin’ more.”

“The hell you say?” Ace gave her a once-over. “Is he fuckin’ blind? You’re a knockout. You’ve got this whole super-hot, kick-your-ass kinda vibe. Steele hasn’t tried to tap that?”

“How kind of you. Steele’s never touched me.”

Well, that’s not quite true.

“What an idiot.” Ace slid back into the booth.

Evidently, her sudden case of leprosy had been cured.

“I’m not disagreein’ with you.”

Voo
hmphed
in response but kept his thoughts to himself. Thank God.

Ash changed the topic. “I know you don’t have menus, but—”

“Don’t worry none, I’ll bring you somethin’ delicious.”

Yeah, Ash wanted something delicious, but she needed something nutritious. Eating anything other than some combination of yogurt, fruit, and/or grains would screw with her routine. All of those rituals didn’t allow for going off script—order, control, discipline.

“Thank you, but I only feed my body healthy food.”

“And what do you feed your soul?”

She stared at him, completely flummoxed. “Uh, I care about carbs and fats, and how many grams of protein.”

He stared at her as if she’d said something incredibly stupid or offensive.

Probably both.

“
Non
. Food is life. Food is important. It should be an event, an experience, and if it ain’t, you’re eatin’ the wrong things.”

Okayyy.

Most people praised her healthy food choices. There was this whole assumption of virtuousness built into eating well—as though people assumed you were a better person for resisting temptation. Ash thought it had to be some sort of puritanical hang-up built into society. Why else would high calorie food be assigned decadent names—Devil’s Food Cake and Death by Chocolate.

But Voodoo didn’t think so. Maybe because he was a chef, he was more concerned with how food tasted than its calorie content. Regardless, he seemed deeply offended, and Ash didn’t know what to say to him without making the situation worse.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered.

“I don’t think—”

“Close them.”

Humoring him, Ash shut her eyes.

“I want you to concentrate. Take the time to reflect before you answer. What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”

Ash considered the question. The best thing she’d ever eaten was chocolate mousse at her graduation dinner. Her parents had taken her and Abe, along with Steele, to a fancy French restaurant, Délicieux. The meal had been wonderful, but the dessert was amazing.

She opened her eyes. “Chocolate mousse. I had it at my graduation dinner.”

“An excellent dish. My
grandmere
used to make it for me the night before an important
day. She said it was good juju and would bring me luck. How was it prepared?”

“The chef made it with farm-raised eggs, heavy cream, and dark chocolate. They served it in a chilled silver goblet with curls of chocolate and real, hand-whipped cream on top.” She’d savored every single bite.

“And wouldn’t you say that dessert was an experience? That it gave you pleasure? Joy even?”

Ash felt perilously close to tears. She hadn’t felt joyous in nearly a decade and, no, she didn’t just mean the delicious dessert.

That night she’d accomplished something wonderful, and she’d spent the evening with everyone in her life who’d mattered most, including Steele, though she hated admitting it. Shortly afterward, she’d gone off to war, and life had never been the same.

“It did.”

“There’s no shame in allowin’ yourself simple pleasures. But I’ll have Angel bring you something…
healthy
.” He said the last word as though it should have four letters. The biker turned and stalked off majestically, his dreads whirling around his handsome face.

“Damn. You’d think you insulted his mother or somethin’.”

She shook off her sudden funk. “So it’s not my imagination?” Ash jerked a thumb at the retreating biker.

“No, ma’am. He’s mad as an old wet hen.” Ace gave her a lazy sort of smile, a bedroom look he’d probably perfected during puberty. “But enough about him. Let’s talk about you.”

Terrific. Here we go.

“You and Steele aren’t hot and heavy then?”

“Nope.” Ash didn’t want to talk about Steele. “Trust me, we’re cold and light.”

Ace’s head whipped toward the door.

Ash couldn’t help but turn in her seat to see what caught his attention so thoroughly. He wasn’t the only one engrossed either. The Horsemen at the counter turned to watch a leggy brunette stalk to the front counter. She wore a pair of tight jeans, black leather knee-high boots, and a matching jacket.

Ash preferred her Nikes and yoga pants.

The brunette had a long slim neck, and her hair fell in waves around her face. Large-framed sunglasses perched on the pert end of her nose.  She had a take-charge, get-outta-my-way vibe which denoted some military or para-military training.

Angel handed the woman a white pastry box tied with string, and she made conversation with the prospect, though Ash was too far away to hear.

“Who’s that?” Ash asked Ace, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he watched the woman with rapt attention. He reminded Ash of a hungry cartoon dog presented with a juicy steak just out of his reach.

Ash snapped her fingers.

He shook his head. “What?”

“Who is she?” Ash nodded to the counter.

Ace cleared his throat. “Glory Banks. She’s a private investigator.”

Glory Banks walked out, and everyone went back to normal. The bikers returned to their breakfasts, and the locals chatted with one another.

Ace rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Damnation. I’m guessin’ I blew my chances with you.”

Ash laughed. He hadn’t had a shot, but no harm in letting him think he had.  “No woman wants to be second best.” Lord knew she knew what it felt like to pine away for someone. How many years had she wasted on her obsession for Steele? And what had it gotten her? Not a damn thing.  

“You speak from experience?”

Ash stiffened. “Hell no.”

“Bullshit. I struck a nerve. I think you like Steele more than you let on.”

“You’re wrong.” Why hadn’t she kept her trap shut?

“I’m almost never wrong, darlin’.” But he dropped the line of questioning. He ran a hand down his face. “Glory used to be a cop.”

“Yeah, I got the vibe.”

“She’s my type—beautiful and dangerous.” He winked at her.

“I fit the bill on the second half.” Ash had no illusions about her appearance.

“Haven’t you ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”

“Yeah? I bet an ugly person came up with that quote.”

He chuckled.

“What the fuck are you two doin’ here?”

Ash glanced up to see Steele standing over them. She hadn’t even heard him approach. She hoped he hadn’t heard much of the conversation.

“Well?” Steele demanded.

“Talkin’. Do you mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” He glared at Ace. “Leave. Now.”

Ace made a show of stretching and getting comfortable in the booth before he took a sip from his coffee. “Hell no,” he said over the room. “In case you missed it, Ash and I are havin’ breakfast together. Besides, if you’re goin’ after the Raptors, you’re gonna need my help.” He glanced at Ash, puffing out his chest a bit. “Did I mention I was a fighter pilot?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“You should be.”

Ash chuckled. “You clearly have self-esteem problems.”

Ace flipped his hair back. “Uncle Sam only lets men with big hairy balls drive multi-million dollar aircraft.”

Steele made a disgusted noise.  

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy tweaking him. For some reason, he didn’t want her getting familiar with his buddies.

Too damn bad.

The Marine butted into the conversation. “From what I remember, fly-boys stayed above the action in their birds—droppin’ bombs and streakin’ off—while Marines were in the thick of it on the ground.”

Ash rolled her eyes.

Ace placed one arm along the back of the booth, the other half-over the table—taking up as much room as possible. “Air support saves lives, brother. You should come up with me some time. Tell you what, I’ll even throttle back so you don’t power puke.” His gaze flicked to Ash. “Airsickness is a bitch.”

The flyboy raised a brow. “She said you two weren’t an item, unless you’re tryin’ to tell me different?”

Steele squared his jaw. “No, we ain’t.”

“Okay then.” Ace gave her his bedroom look once more. “She’s fair game.”

Steele’s phone rang, and he glanced at the screen. “Fuck, I gotta take this.” He stabbed a finger at Ace. “When I get back, you better be elsewhere.” He hoofed out to the parking lot, pacing in front of the window as he talked on the phone. His eyes were on her, watching every move through the glass.

Ace whistled. “So, you wanna revise your statement on Steele? Because it sure as hell looks like somethin’ is goin’ on…and it’s juicy.”

She took a sip of coffee and did her level best to appear unconcerned. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You know, we could have some fun with this here situation, if you wanted.”

Ash was sorely tempted. Steele deserved whatever he got.

As soon as Steele waltzed back into the diner, Ace placed his hand over hers. Steele stared at his brother like he’d palmed her breast instead.