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

  Hell or

  High Water

  A Four Horsemen MC Novel

  BOOK EIGHT

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Books in the Series

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Lex Cooper never belonged anywhere. She’d been born with what her mom called “a habit of being in the way”. This party was no exception.

  “Did I tell you about the time I broke the last record for weight-lifting?” Grant Stewert was West Texas University’s first-string quarterback, which in Texas gave him demigod status.

  She hid a yawn in her lemonade while Grant prattled on, gaze fixed to her bust instead of her face. The intoxicated college students around her were deep in the end of the semester celebration—a hallowed campus holiday known as Finals Eve. It was like Christmas, but with a lot more work and no presents.

  “…and Coach said whoever could bench press more, Bryan or me…”

  Snore.

  Finals week was no time for nonsense in Lex’s opinion, but her best friend, Josie Bordeaux, had a different idea. Josie had already graduated and was set to return to New Orleans to help her aunt run the family bed and breakfast in the French Quarter. Josie wouldn’t stand for Lex missing her big goodbye bash. Lex sighed, wishing she could kick off her sensible shoes and enjoy a night like this.

  “So, like, do you have a boyfriend or what?”

  Lex blinked, refocusing on Grant’s expectant face.

  “Like, no. I’m not into…dating, right now. Grad school takes up so much time and…”

  “You’re blowin’ me off, huh?” He sighed.

  She licked her lips, trying to dredge up a comforting “it’s not you, it’s me” speech and failing. Grant was a jerk—he’d slept with over a dozen girls in her building alone, and according to the dorm rumor mill, he never came back for seconds.

  “You’re not my type.”

  “Not into bad boys?” He moved in closer, and Lex wished she hadn’t chosen to lean back against the wall. “Unusual for a good girl like you.”

  Oh, please. Grant thought he was a bad boy? He’d wet his pants if Voodoo looked at him sideways.

  “How would you know what kind of girl I am?” But he was all too right. She got good grades, had perfect attendance, played well with others—the whole shebang. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done involved eating an entire gallon of chocolate ice cream and puking on her mother’s lilacs, a stunt her dad found hilarious. Her mom—not so much.

  If there were two sides to a thing, from preschools to politics, her parents ended up opposing each other. Except when it came to her father’s motorcycle club. It was the only joint-parenting decision they’d ever made. No Horsemen.

  They worried Lex would adopt Captain’s outlaw lifestyle like most parents worried about drugs and teen pregnancy. Hiding any resemblance to Captain had been necessary for survival, and she’d cultivated a rep as a responsible, brainy sort.

  Grant grabbed the drink out of her hand and peered into the cup.

  “Lemonade—I rest my case.”

  “I have a final tomorrow.” She gritted her teeth.

  Her father’s trademarked devil-may-care attitude flowed through her veins, but she ignored it, shoved her rebellious side down where no one could find it and refused to give those thoughts voice. The “good girl” habit had become excruciating lately.

  Waiting for her in Hell, at Hades Hotel & Diner on Main Street, was temptation incarnate—Voodoo.

  The Horsemen were her forbidden fruit—the one apple she couldn’t eat. And she’d never wanted a taste of anything more than Voo. One look at him in one of his skin-tight shirts, smudged apron over leather pants, and dreads dancing around those silvery eyes did the trick.

  She shivered.

  Made it hard to give a college boy the time of day when a man back home could make a girl breakfast while calling her cute French nicknames—even if she only saw him in the diner.

  “Very responsible of you. C’mon, sweetheart, let me get you somethin’ stronger and you can tell me all about how ‘not your type’ I am.”

  “No can do. My final’s real early in the morning. Like butt-crack of dawn.” Lex slid out from between him and the wall. “I gotta find Josie and say goodbye.”

  “Who?”

  “Josie? About yay high.” Lex held her hand at Josie’s slightly taller height. “This party’s for her.”

  “Right.” He turned to follow her. “I’ll take you home. My car’s out back and my buddy Bryan left with some chick an hour ago. No fun staying here if you’re leaving anyway….”

  “No!” She cleared her throat and toned down the enthusiasm. “I mean, no, thank you. Stay and enjoy the party. Nice talking to you.”

  “Shame we didn’t do more than talk.” He caught her wrist and tugged her against his chest in an awkward hug. The odor of Axe spray and cheap beer assailed her nose. Ah, the familiar scent of campus douche. “Have fun studyin’, good girl.”

  She shook him off, disappointed with the standards of the girls in her hall who fawned over him every time he flexed. Did they fall for his reverse psychology crap? Maybe they focused on his pretty face instead of listening to what he said.

  Lex spotted Josie and her male entourage trooping into the kitchen. She elbowed her way through the intoxicated throng of dancers to follow them. With skin the color of hot cocoa and dark hair pinned up on the sides of her head into a riot of tight spirals on top, Josie sat cross-legged on the counter by the open window. Her cinnamon eyes danced with delight.

  “Lex! Where you been, girl? And more importantly, why are you sober? You should be shaking your ass on a table right now.” Men stood on either side of her, filling her glass, offering her a lighter, carrying her ashtray. In one hand, she held a glass of wine, in the other a joint.

  Unlike Lex, Josie had no qualms about having a good time—or telling anyone who didn’t like her or her behavior to go fuck themselves. Lex wished she could be so fearless.

  “Being creeped out by the starting lineup.” She propped a hip against the doorway.

  “Why? You could use some tail—might as well be a tailback.” Josie waggled her eyebrows.

  “No, thank you. Mr. Quarterback isn’t as hot as he thinks he is. And even if he was, the illusion was ruined when he opened his mouth.” Lex shook her head. “Afraid I have to leave before my carriage turns into a pumpkin, anyway.”

  “Non, you must stay! Please?” Josie batted her dark eyes.

  A smile tugged at Lex’s mouth. Her friend’s soft Creole accent always reminded her of a certain biker with eyes like quicksilver.

  “This is our last night together—ever… Unless you’ve reconsidered my offer to visit New Orleans? Take a spring break trip? Or a semester hiatus, eh?”

/>   “No can do. If I want to graduate on time, I have to stick to my—”

  “Your priorities, oui, I know.” Josie gestured widely with her glass. “Plans are boring. Laissez les bon temps rouler!”

  “Let the good times roll”—the rallying party cry of Josie’s hometown—summed up the petite Creole’s personality in a nutshell. Josie was smashed and having a blast. Her light-hearted spirit had gotten Lex through many stressful times, from pulling all-nighters to agonizing over the meaning of Voo’s text messages.

  “You could always visit me.”

  “Hook me up with one of your hunky bikers and I might,” Josie purred. “Or better yet, bring them with you.”

  “Josie….”

  “Just saying—if you’re not spending winter break with that tall, dreadlocked glass of water, feel free to forward him to my new address. I’ll clear my schedule.”

  Lex laughed.

  “Stay a bit longer, have a drink—you didn’t even drive tonight.”

  “I didn’t drive to avoid dealing with the construction in front of campus, not so I could drink. I have a date with a blue book early tomorrow morning.” Driving around all those orange barrels gave her the jitters.

  Josie lifted sad eyes, her lips puckered in a disappointed pout.

  “You’re giving me shit for wanting to pass my finals? Nothing goes with studying like a side of guilt.” Lex crossed her arms and raised a brow.

  “Fine, fine, but once I get you in my city, I’m going to teach you how to have fun, girl. You wait and see—me and my cousin will take you out on the town.” Josie lifted her glass, leading the room in a toast. “For now, I salute you and your fearsome work ethic, ‘Lex the Buzzkill!’”

  The men crowded around Josie echoed her words.

  Lex forced a smile over teeth gritted at the mention of her college nickname. Josie meant no harm; she didn’t know how much it grated on Lex’s nerves.

  Screw them. They’d be sweating their GPA until Santa came. Lex had it in the bag.

  “You’re not walking back alone, are you?” Josie’s face scrunched with concern.

  “It’s a straight shot back to campus.” She dug in her bag and pulled out her keys, dangling her pepper spray. “And I’ve got this in case of creepers. I’m good.”

  “Text me as soon as you’re back in the building?”

  “Of course.” Lex hugged her friend goodbye, promising to visit…eventually. As she wound through the crowd toward the exit, she told people she knew “good luck on finals” and “have a nice break”, keeping her head down to avoid eye contact with Grant. She grabbed her hoodie from the pile near the door and started the fifteen-block walk back to her dorm.

  The party was located in the older part of town, and the nearby houses did nothing to block the cool night wind whipping around Lex’s face. Residents had made an attempt at wintery holiday cheer, placing Christmas lights in the branches of the skeletal trees hunkered down for the winter along the brown lawns. The sounds of the party faded, and the squat houses along the street were dark and silent.

  Lex blew out a breath and tightened the strings of her hoodie, pulling the fabric close to her face. She rubbed her fingers together to ward off the bite of the cold as she walked. Not given to flights of imagination, Lex usually didn’t mind walking all by herself in the dark, but tonight, the street felt tense, eerie.

  To distract herself, she pulled out her phone and brought up Voo’s latest text. Making you something special this weekend, ma petite. When you in town?

  There. A blush warmed her face right up. She hadn’t replied because she wanted to surprise him. Lex smiled to herself. Her last final would be over by noon, and she planned to be at Hades Hotel & Diner by sundown. She bit her lip, excitement growing in her chest.

  Maybe she should text him something? What if he had…other plans? Lex frowned. She could show up and find him all over some hellion.

  There was a caveat her mom had added to the Four Horsemen MC warning label: get attached to a Horseman and spend eternity looking at the competition taking body shots in tiny scraps of leather. Hellions, the wild women who hung around the brothers, loved to be casual with sex—but what do you expect from biker groupies? It was enough to give the most confident of women self-esteem issues, and truth be told, Lex wasn’t the most confident of women.

  She liked herself, believed in her worth, her value. Lex was smart, capable, resourceful, and funny. Sure, she was girl-next-door pretty, but she wasn’t leather-and-teased-hair, dancing-on-a-pool-table hot.

  Lex had to face it—she was the anti-hellion.

  Blinking yellow lights down the road caught her eye. Two blocks up, a truck pulled over and a man got out, slamming his hands on the hood in frustration.

  Her stomach fluttered, and she slowed, her instincts warring. In broad daylight, she wouldn’t hesitate to approach someone having car trouble to ask if they needed help. Being neighborly came with the territory in a small college town, and she’d gotten to know many of the locals over the years.

  But something felt off about this. Her gut stirred with suspicion.

  She scanned the route ahead. To avoid the truck, she’d have to detour via one of the side streets instead of following her straight shot home. She peered down the closest road. No streetlights, and she had no idea when it would reconnect with the main road. It could be a block—or a mile.

  Lex dialed 9-1-1 on her phone to be safe, but didn’t complete the call. Screwing up her courage, she gripped the pepper spray cylinder and continued towards the car.

  The man turned at her approach. “Lex?”

  Grant. Dammit.

  “Hey, Grant. I thought you were going to stay at the party.” Lex pocketed her phone. This kind of trouble, she could deal with.

  “Nah, I bailed when you blew me off.” He shrugged, and the gesture was almost disarming. “Started swerving on the road, so I figured I’d pull over and sober up.”

  “Solid plan.” Glad I didn’t take you up on the ride home. “Why don’t you head back on foot and get the truck in the morning?”

  “With my muscle mass, I can metabolize the alcohol in a few minutes.” He flexed a bicep to illustrate his point.

  Lex groaned. “Okay, well…good luck with that.”

  She started walking, and he stepped in her path. “Keep me company. We didn’t get to finish our conversation.”

  Or maybe the big, bad football player is scared of the dark? She smiled.

  “I saw you smile. C’mon, I know you want to.”

  “It’s cold out here….”

  “No problem.” He opened the door and started the truck. After he flipped a couple of switches, she heard the blowers kick on. “Engine’s still warm. We can sit and talk, and then I can drive you back.” When she eyed him, he threw up his hands. “Or you and that hefty can of pepper spray can make it on your own like the strong, independent chick you are. Whatever.”

  She tucked the keys and pepper spray back in her hoodie pocket, feeling a bit sheepish. “I should go home.”

  “I forgot. Good girl has to study for her final.” He smirked, leaning back against the hood.

  The smart thing to do would be to blow off Grant and hightail it back to her dorm—lock her door, climb in bed for a solid eight hours, and get up the first time her alarm went off like she always did. After she finished her finals, Lex could spend the next four weeks drooling over Voo without doing a damn thing about it except second-guessing herself over every brunette hellion flashing cleavage at him.

  Go be “Lex the Buzzkill”, focused on her priorities because Horsemen were bad and she was chicken shit.

  Or she could prove this asshole and everyone else wrong and flirt with a drunk football player while he sobered up on Finals Eve. It’d be a fun story to tell Dani.

  “At least get warm and make sure I’m sober enough to get behind the wheel.” Grant gestured to the open door.

  “Yeah, looks like you could use some help.”

&
nbsp; “Slide on in. The passenger door sticks, but it’s a bench seat so it doesn’t matter.” Once she’d slid all the way over against the opposite door, he climbed into the driver’s seat and bumped the heat up another notch. “Warm enough?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” She held her hands in front of the closest vent.

  “How long you been goin’ to school here? I haven’t seen you around much.” He turned to face her.

  “Counting my first two semesters of grad school—about five years, now.” And this was the lowest-cut shirt she’d ever worn—on the day he’d decided to notice she existed.

  Coincidence? Hell naw.

  She studied him in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. They sure grew ‘em big in Odessa, where he hailed from. Grant was a good-looking hunk of man. Blond, blue-eyed, and stacked with muscle—he was the poster boy for the American dream. Wholesome white bread in a plastic-privilege wrapper. A private college boy with solid job prospects after graduation, and a football player to boot—he was Texas debutante catnip.

  Probably everything Lex’s parents had ever wanted for her. All the boxes checked, right in a line—an anti-Horsemen for Lex’s anti-hellion—a matched set.

  Lex sighed. This was her idea of rebelling—sitting in a lukewarm Chevy with a half-loaded asshole her parents would actually approve of. Wow, this would sure show ‘em I’m no buzzkill.

  Grant’s conversation skills improved slightly as he sobered up, and he stopped talking about himself and his stats for a few minutes. One of his jokes even made her laugh.

  “From what I heard, you don’t do the college party scene.” He’d scooted closer over the course of their conversation, and the moonlight spilling in the windshield cast shadows across his face.

  “Not my thing, but I had to say goodbye to Josie.”

  “I get the feelin’ you aren’t about the football games and such, neither. Not a sorority girl.” His voice lowered slightly. “What are you into?”

  Bad-ass bikers with loa tattoos and hot French accents.

  “I, uh…spend a lot of time with my family, getting to know my dad’s side of things a bit more. And I study.” It sounded lame to her own ears.

  “Guess I hit the nail on the head with the ‘good girl’ remark. All work, no play?”