Page 13 of Gator (Bourbon Kings MC #1)

“Are you sure about this, boss?” Juju reluctantly asked. “’Cause Mademoiselle Moriarity ain’t gonna play no game wit’cha. You can’t go in there thinkin’ you can sweet talk her into tellin’ ya what ya wanna hear or she’s gonna put the Gris Gris on ya.”

“I agree, boss.” Donut hurried after us, munching on another bag of beignets. “My momma swears by Mademoiselle Moriarity. Calls her every Sunday after church to get her weekly cards read.”

Stopping, I looked at Donut and asked, “Is this before or after your m?man prays to the good Lord at Sunday service?”

“Ain’t nuttin’ wrong with hedging yer bets, boss,” Donut muttered sheepishly.

“I gots me a distant relation back in Ireland and, according to my ma’ she believed in the Aos Sí, that’s the fairy folk.

Now the way my ma’ says it, this relation was real friendly with the local banfháidh, that’s a woman who can see things.

Anyway, my ma’ said the banfháidh swore a Dobhar-chú , that’s a water beast that kinda looks like an otter was after my relation’s soul. ”

“Your mom was scared of a cute little otter?” Worm asked incredulously.

“Not my ma’, ya daft eejit! My relation from Ireland,” Braveheart grumbled. “Anyway, like I was sayin’, this banfháidh told my relation to stay away from water, that the Dobhar-chú wanted her soul.”

Grabbing another beignet, Donut stood, mesmerized by Braveheart’s story and asked, “What happened next?”

“Now as Ma’ tells it, my relation stayed away from all water.”

“Bet she smelled ripe as a peach after a few days,” Worm grumbled sarcastically, and Braveheart glared at him.

“Can we not get sidetracked by Braveheart’s riveting tales of magical otters?” I interrupted, casting a glance toward the looming house ahead. Its weathered shutters and ivy-cloaked walls did little to dispel the unease creeping into my gut. “I’ve got a real, living, breathing enigma to deal with.”

“Living and breathing, huh?” Worm muttered, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “You sure she isn’t pulling your chain? I mean, you can always wait till the ultrasound. You know, with a licensed professional who’s trained in this shit?”

“Figures you’d be the doubter, Worm,” Braveheart teased with a smirk. “After all, didn’t you tell me last year you saw a Rougarou out by the swamp?”

“That wasn’t no Rougarou !” Worm snapped, his voice rising. “That was just some fool wearing a costume, trying to scare me and my cousin.”

“Enough,” I said firmly, stepping forward and motioning for the rest to follow.

The wooden steps creaked ominously underfoot, each groan of the old planks sounding like a warning.

“We’re not here to debate mythical beings or your m?man’s weekly phone calls, Donut.

Stay focused. If Mademoiselle Moriarity knows something, I need her to spill it. ”

Donut shoved the last piece of his beignet into his mouth and dusted the sugar off his hands. “If she serves coffee with those cards, we might be in for a treat.”

Juju gave him a sideways glare. “Coffee? You better hope she don’ give you tea laced with somethin’ you can’t pronounce.”

Braveheart chuckled, his laughter echoing faintly as I rapped my knuckles against the peeling door. A moment passed in silence. Then another. The air felt thick, like the house itself was holding its breath. Just as I was about to knock again, the door swung open with the slightest creak.

A woman stood there, tall and regal, with piercing eyes that seemed to see far beyond the present moment. Her presence was unsettling yet magnetic, as though the house itself bent to her will. “So,” she said, her voice smooth but edged, “you’ve come to test fate, Gator.”

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, and I stepped forward, trying to steady my voice. “I’ve come for answers.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that promised more questions than resolutions. “Then step inside... if you dare.”

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste of time,” I grumbled, storming back into The Bourbon Bar an hour later.

“I liked her.” Donut smiled, kicking off his flip-flops as he made himself comfortable on a chaise lounge before digging into a small bag the crazy woman gave him. “She seemed really nice, Gator. Look at these cookies. They are so small. I can fit one whole in my mouth.”

Rolling my eyes at the idiot as he chucked it in the air and caught it with his open trap like popcorn, I walked over to the bar and sat just as Devlyn came walking out of the kitchen with a bowl of Juju’s jambalaya.

“Oh, you’re all back,” she said with a mouth full of food. “Where did you guys go?”

“Went to see Mademoiselle Moriarity,” Braveheart offered. “She’s famous around these parts.”

“She’s a fraud,” Worm muttered, grabbing a book from his stack in the corner. “All I’m saying is that a medical professional will be able to tell you everything you want to know in time, Gator.”

“But I want to know now!” I shouted, facing the know-it-all of the club. “I gots to know if they are boys or girls. I need to start plannin’.”

“Hold up.” Devlyn sighed, placing her bowl of jambalaya on the bar. “You morons went to a psychic to see what sex the babies are?”

“Well, yeah.” Donut nodded, swallowing another cookie. “Can’t have little fillies runnin’ around here with me half nekkid all the time. Plus, this is a bar. We gots all kinds of people comin’ and goin’ at all hours. Ain’t safe.”

“Oh!” Thore interrupted. “How ‘bout we do that string thing?”

“What string thing?” I asked.

The man frowned. “Nah, it ain’t gonna work. Need her to have a weddin’ ring on for at least twenty-four hours.”

“I’m not wearing a wedding ring,” Devlyn scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the bar. “Besides, are you all seriously suggesting a piece of string can tell you more than science can?”

“Science takes too long,” I grumbled, dropping onto the nearest stool while Worm gave me that smug, superior look he’d perfected over years of reading way too many books. “I ain’t got the patience for all that waitin’. I need answers now.”

Juju, ever the peacemaker, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, maybe we just do it for fun. Ain’t hurtin’ nobody, right?”

Donut piped up, mouth stuffed with yet another cookie, crumbs tumbling onto his bare chest. “What if the string thing says one thing, and the doc says another? Which one do we believe?”

“The doctor,” Worm said firmly, not even looking up from his book.

“The string,” Braveheart countered, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. “The old ways got more truth in ’em than y’all give credit for.”

Devlyn groaned, rubbing her temples. “I swear, you lot are gonna give me gray hairs before I hit thirty.”

“You already got one,” Donut teased, which earned him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

Was he trying to get me scalped today?

“Alright, alright,” I interrupted before the situation could escalate. “Settle down, all of ya. If we’re gonna do this string thing, we’re doin’ it right. Worm, gimme a weddin’ ring.”

Worm snapped his book shut with an exaggerated sigh. “You think I just carry jewelry around like some kinda jewelry fairy?”

“Well, I ain’t got one,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Juju?”

“Sure, lemme just grab mine from the bank vault where I keep all my nonexistent weddin’ rings,” Juju quipped, rolling his eyes.

Devlyn chuckled, her earlier irritation melting away. “Guess that means you’re outta luck, Gator.”

“Not so fast,” Braveheart said, producing a thin silver band from his pocket with a flourish. “Got this from Mademoiselle Moriarity herself. Said it belonged to some duchess or somethin’.”

Worm snorted. “More like it belonged to her costume jewelry collection.”

“Hey, it’s a ring,” I declared, snatching it up. “And it’s gonna do the trick. Now where’s the string?”

“I’ll get it,” Juju said, sliding off his stool with a sigh. “But if this turns into some kinda séance, I’m out.”

As he disappeared into the back, the rest of us stared at the ring like it held the secrets of the universe. Somewhere in the corner, Worm muttered something about how we’d all lost our minds. And maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong. But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Days unraveled like a spool of thread, carrying me from one strange scene to another.

Braveheart wouldn’t shut up about the ring’s supposed royal pedigree, while Worm spent half his time researching conspiracy theories to prove it was cursed.

Juju, true to his word, kept a safe distance whenever talk turned vaguely mystical.

The séance, not surprisingly, never materialized, though we did manage to summon a series of awkward silences over pizza on more than one occasion.

And then there was me—juggling a mix of nerves, excitement, and outright disbelief as the days blurred toward Devlyn’s first doctor’s appointment.

When the monitor flickered alive in that stark white room, revealing not one, not two, but three tiny shapes floating in my woman’s belly, I forgot how to breathe.

“Triplets,” the doctor confirmed with the kind of calm reserved for announcing weather patterns. “Congratulations.”

The room spun for a moment, each heartbeat pounding louder than the last. Braveheart, Thore, and Juju weren’t here—thank God—but I could hear their voices echoing in my head.

Braveheart would’ve toasted with something strong and smoked, Thore would’ve cracked a joke about needing to build an army, and Juju—he’d probably mutter something so profound it’d make me cry.

Standing beside me, Devlyn gave my hand a squeeze. “Looks like we’re outnumbered already.” Her voice, soft and warm, cut through the storm brewing in my chest as she stared at the documented proof of my virility in her hands. “What are we going to do now?”

Taking her hand in mine, I led her to my truck. After helping her in, I ran around to the other side and jumped behind the wheel. “We’re going to see the only person who can help us.”

“Who’s that?” She chuckled.

“My m?man .”