Page 26 of Gator (Bourbon Kings MC #1)

The sun had set when I pulled my truck behind The Bourbon Bar. I hopped out and walked in the back door, striding toward the main barroom to find my brothers milling around, glaring at a familiar face sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

Braveheart, leaning against the bar, was currently cleaning his nails with the big ass fucking knife he always wore.

Juju was standing behind the bar, rubbing his bag of bones.

Donut sat reclined with his feet on a table, eating a bag of beignets, as Worm sat across from him, nose in a damn book.

Thore was lying on the chaise, snoring away as my Uncle Sixx straddled a chair and glared at the fucker.

As I stepped into the barroom, the tension hung in the air like Louisiana humidity—a thick, oppressive presence that almost made me pause.

Braveheart glanced up briefly, his knife glinting under the dim overhead light before returning to his meticulous work.

The sound of metal against flesh was oddly soothing, a rhythmic undertone to the spectacle unfolding before me.

“Ah, look who decided to grace us with his presence,” Juju drawled, his voice lazily unimpressed as he tossed his bag of bones onto the counter and leaned forward. “You gonna deal with this, Gator? Or should we keep glaring until he spontaneously combusts from shame?”

Pointing at the fucker in the chair, I sneered, “He’s the thief?”

The figure in the chair flinched slightly, though their expression remained defiant, even as Braveheart closed ranks around him like a predator circling its prey. I strode forward, my boots thudding against the wooden floor, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

“Well, he ain’t Santa Claus,” Donut muttered, wiping powdered sugar off his chest. “Fucker didn’t bring me what I asked for.”

Tapping my uncle on the back, he got up, giving me his chair. Taking a seat, I shook my head. “Gotta admit, when Juju called me and told me he found someone, I wasn’t expecting you, Beau.”

“I’m an officer of the law. I can have all of you arrested for kidnapping!” the man sneered, his eyes wild with fright.

Yeah, Beau was two seconds away from pissing his pants.

Fucker wasn’t calling anyone.

“Tell me, Beau. You know anything about a theft out at Crawley Scrap Metal last week?”

The man gulped and shook his head.

I leaned back in the chair, letting the weight of my presence settle heavily on Beau’s already fragile nerves.

“See, Beau, I’ve got a problem,” I began, my tone almost conversational, though the undercurrent of steel was unmistakable.

“Crawley Scrap Metal doesn’t just lose merchandise without someone sticking their grubby hands where they shouldn’t.

And Juju here”—I motioned lazily toward him—“tends to have a nose for sniffing out trouble. Funny how that nose led him straight to you.”

Beau licked his lips, his gaze darting from one member of the crew to the next. Braveheart cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate, while Donut leaned against the counter, munching on another pastry like this was his evening entertainment.

“Look, I don’t know anything about your damn scrapyard,” Beau stammered, his voice cracking just enough to betray the lie he was trying to sell. “I’ve got no reason to—”

“To what? Steal from me?” I cut him off, leaning forward so he could feel just how close I was to snapping his thin thread of bravado.

“Here’s the thing, Beau. No one, and I mean no one, lays a hand on what’s mine and walks away without consequences.

So, I’ll ask you one last time. What do you know about my missing shipment? ”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but the words caught in his throat when Juju slapped a battered metal box onto the counter.

It clattered loudly, the unmistakable jangle of its contents filling the room.

“Recognize this?” Juju asked with an exaggerated smirk, flipping the lid open to reveal a collection of odd trinkets and tools.

“Found it tucked away in your trunk. Thought it looked familiar.”

Beau’s face drained of color, and for a moment, the room was silent save for the faint creak of the old wooden floorboards under Braveheart’s shifting weight. The man’s defiance faltered, replaced by the creeping realization that he was trapped.

“Now,” I said, my voice low but firm, “you’ve got two choices. You can start talking and maybe salvage what’s left of your dignity. Or”—I gestured toward Braveheart, who cracked his neck with a menacing grin—“we can have a more... persuasive conversation. Your call, Beau.”

The man’s lips trembled, and as he seemed on the verge of cracking, Juju leaned in to whisper, “Tick tock, pal. Gator’s patience only goes so far.”

Looking at my watch, I said, “Donut, you’ve got a package to deliver to my auntie Glorianna’s.”

“Yep,” the man said, jumping to his feet and sliding into his flip-flops. “On my way now, boss.”

“Take extra special care of my package, Donut.” I smirked, and Donut grinned happily.

“Consider the package pampered, boss.”

The second Donut was gone, I smiled. “Now that the squeamish fainter is gone, we can get started. Anythin’ you wanna say, Beau?”

“Fuck you, Gator.”

I chuckled, getting up from the chair, placing it back under the table. “He’s all yours, Braveheart.”

As Braveheart stepped forward, his presence alone casting a shadow over the room, Beau’s bravado evaporated entirely.

The metallic clang of Juju’s box remained a sharp reminder of the evidence laid bare.

Beau’s eyes darted to the door, but Juju blocked his escape route with a sly grin that promised there was no running this time.

“You think you’re tough, Beau?” Braveheart asked, his voice a rumble that seemed to shake the walls themselves. “Let’s see how tough you are when you’re not hiding behind lies.”

Beau’s lips parted, desperate words stumbling out. “Look, I didn’t mean for things to go this far! I-I didn’t know it was yours!” His hands trembled as he gestured toward the box. “I swear, Gator. My cousin Garland just told me where to find it!”

“Garland Coltraine? Eustis’s son?” I asked, my head shifting to my Uncle Sixx, who was already striding out the back door of the bar. Turning back to Beau, I asked, “What the hell did Garland tell you to steal, and why did you take my shipment?”

Beau hesitated, his face pale and drawn, as if the weight of Garland’s name alone had squeezed every ounce of defiance from his spirit.

“I-I got scared, okay,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

“Those dogs you’ve got guarding the place are mean as hell.

When I couldn’t find what Garland wanted, he told me to take something.

So I hauled off the big box. Didn’t know what was in it.

Figured ’cause it was heavy as hell, it was worth something. Please, Gator, that’s all I know!”

I leaned back, my gaze never leaving Beau’s quivering form. The air in the room hung heavy with tension, each second ticking by like a bomb about to detonate. Braveheart crossed his arms, the sheer mass of him looming over Beau like a storm cloud about to unleash its fury.

“Juju,” I said, my voice calm but laced with an edge sharper than any blade. “What do you think? Truth or bullshit?”

Juju smirked, flipping open the box to reveal the contents—a screwdriver, plyers, and a glint of something metallic that caught the dim light. “Let’s just say, Beau’s got a hell of a lot of explainin’ to do, boss.”

Braveheart’s shadow grew darker, and the room seemed even smaller.

“Start talkin’, Beau,” Braveheart growled, his voice low but menacing. “Or this is gonna get a lot worse for you.”

“Hit him again, Braveheart.”

“Garland wants the deed to the bar!” Beau shouted, just as Braveheart was about to swing.

“Why?” Braveheart asked.

Beau swallowed hard, his throat moving like he was trying to keep down a mouthful of gravel.

“Garland said something about selling it to someone he owes money to. He didn’t tell me much, just that it was important.

” His voice cracked on the last word, and he glanced nervously at Juju and Braveheart, who weren’t exactly exuding sympathy.

I let the words hang in the air, the weight of them settling over the room like smoke from a dying fire.

“Garland Coltraine’s got debts. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?

” I said, more to myself than to anyone else.

“And he thought the deed to my bar would be his golden ticket? Who does he owe?”

Beau licked his lips, his eyes darting like a rabbit staring down a pack of wolves. “I don’t know the guy’s name,” he blurted. “Garland never said. Just that he’s some big-shot investor or mob guy or something. Someone who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Juju snorted, glancing at me with an arched brow. “Big-shot investor? Mob guy? Hell of a range there, Beau.” He tossed the screwdriver back into the box with a clatter and leaned against the counter, arms folded. “Let me guess, you didn’t think to ask?”

Beau’s head snapped side to side, a frantic denial. “I swear, man, I didn’t ask. Garland doesn’t like questions, you know? He told me to stay out of it, to just do what I was told and keep my mouth shut.”

Braveheart let out a low growl, the kind that sent shivers crawling up Beau’s spine. “Well, too bad for you, Beau. Your mouth doesn’t get to shut until you give us something useful.”

I stood, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech that made Beau flinch.

“Eustis’s doing twenty-five to life for killing my dad and brother,” I said, pacing slowly in front of him.

“And you fucking let his son drag you into his mess, Beau. Not very smart, if you ask me. You think this guy’s gonna care you were just the errand boy?

Or that I’m gonna let you go just because you didn’t know what the hell you were stealing? ”

Beau’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, no words forming as he stared at me in sheer panic.

“Gator,” Juju said, his tone calm but cutting. “If we want answers, we’ll need to go straight to Garland. Beau here’s just the pawn.”

I stopped pacing and nodded. “You’re right.” Turning to Beau, I jabbed a finger in his direction. “But you—you’re gonna help us find this guy Garland owes. Because if you think for a second that hiding behind that badge you wear is gonna keep you safe, you’re dead wrong.”

Beau’s shoulders slumped, resignation washing over him like a tide. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll tell you where to find him. Just... don’t hurt me, man. I didn’t sign up for this.”

Juju chuckled darkly. “Oh, Beau, you signed up the moment you broke the law. Now start talking.”

And, of course, Donut chose that moment to walk back into the bar. The second he took a look at Beau, the squeamish fucker threw up.

“Jesus, Donut!” Thore jumped way back as Donut covered his mouth and ran back into the kitchen, just as Beau bent over and did the same.

“Fucking hell!” I shouted, taking a few steps back myself.

“Looks like Beau is a sympathizer.”

“A what?” Thore growled, grabbing a towel to wipe off his boots.

Sighing, Worm closed the book he was reading and said, “It’s called sympathy vomiting. When someone sees another vomit, they get sick too.”

“You made that shit up,” Juju scoffed.

“Nope.” Worm shook his head. “It’s an actual medical thing.”

“Bullshit,” Braveheart challenged, crossing his arms.

Braveheart’s challenge hung in the air, and Worm gave him a knowing smirk. “You can look it up if you want, but I’m telling you, it’s real. Science doesn’t care about your skepticism, my friend.”

I rolled my eyes, clearly losing interest. “Listen, I don’t have time for a debate on biology, ok? Beau, start talkin’, or I swear to God, you’ll be cleanin’ up Donut’s mess with your shirt.”

Beau wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at Juju despite his obvious misery. “I don’t know anything,” he rasped, his voice hollow. “I didn’t mean to get involved in any of this.”

“Didn’t mean to?” Thore growled, his hands tightening around the towel like it was Beau’s neck. “You’ve got a funny way of stumbling into trouble, don’t you?”

“Enough.” My voice cut through the tension, firm but calm. “This isn’t helping. Beau, just tell me what you know.”

I was getting a fucking headache and wanted this night over. I needed to get back to my auntie Glorianna’s house before everyone woke up. As it was, I just fucking knew Devlyn was going to reem my ass because she had to sleep alone again.

Beau hesitated, his eyes darting to the door as if considering an escape. Juju caught the glance and leaned in, his grin turning feral. “Go ahead,” he said softly. “Run. See how far you get before I find you.”

The threat landed like a punch, and Beau sagged in defeat. He cleared his throat, glancing nervously around the room. “Alright,” he muttered, the word barely audible. “But once I say it, you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

The room fell silent. Even Braveheart uncrossed his arms as we all leaned in, waiting for Beau to spill whatever secret he had buried deep.