Page 3 of Gator (Bourbon Kings MC #1)

New Orleans, Louisiana , days before the wedding...

Walking down the steps of The Bourbon Bar, I yawned and scratched my stomach, the bright New Orleans sunlight doing little to wake me up after a long night of, well, being the king of this here kingdom.

I, Wade Crawley, aka Gator, president of the Bourbon Kings Motorcycle Club, was feeling a little worse for wear, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

The night before was a blur of jazz, bourbon, and beautiful ladies.

Okay, maybe not a blur. I remembered it all clearly, but my head was still buzzing a little.

Or maybe that was the sound of the bar itself, always humming with life and energy.

This place was my baby, and I ruled it with a relaxed, whiskey-soaked fist. The only rules here were my rules, and they were damn simple: drink, have fun, and don’t cause no trouble.

Stepping over a passed-out patron, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.

Hell, I’ve been there, done that, and probably will again.

My town had a way of getting to you, and by ‘ getting to you ,’ I meant making you want to party like there was no tomorrow.

New Orleans, my beautiful lady, sure knew how to show a guy a good time.

Stretching my arms above my head, I took a moment to appreciate the town I called home.

The sun shone brightly, but it didn’t bother me.

I was too busy soaking in the sights and sounds of my city.

The colorful buildings, the street musicians, the smell of beignets wafting through the air—damn, I was hungry.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I needed to fuel up for whatever the day had in store for me, and knowing my city, it was going to be memorable.

Standing on the sidewalk, my thoughts turned to the night before. Jazz, bourbon, and beautiful ladies—the recipe for a perfect New Orleans evening. And of course, my bar, The Bourbon Bar, was the perfect place for it all to come together.

I sure knew how to throw a party. But now, in the cold light of day, I couldn’t help but feel a little... fuzzy. Not the warm, fuzzy feeling of a job well done, but the fuzzy feeling, like a tingle of something coming. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew something big was coming.

I could feel it in the air.

Oh well, no point in dwelling on it now. Time would tell and until then, I needed to find me some breakfast and maybe take a little nap.

Yeah, that sounded like a plan, Gator-style.

“Mornin’, boss!” Donut’s voice cut through my fuzzy thoughts like a knife through warm butter.

My club’s sergeant at arms and self-proclaimed nudist stood across the street, looking like a half-dressed beacon of cheerfulness.

Thank the good Lord above that he at least had his underwear and flip-flops on.

Though, seeing him like that, I couldn’t help but wonder if the sight of him in broad daylight was any better than the alternative.

“You know,” I called back, a grin spreading across my face, “if Officer LaMonte spots you strollin’ around in your skivvies, he’s liable to toss your ass back in the slammer.”

I shook my head, wondering if the man had any sense of self-preservation.

Donut just shrugged, his mouth full of beignet. “Don’ care,” he mumbled through the sugary treat.

I chuckled. “Your mama will care when she has to visit you there. She’ll tan your hide for sure.”

A thoughtful look crossed his face as he chewed. “Ain’t thought about that.”

Shaking my head, I snagged the bag of beignets from him and helped myself to a few.

The sweet, doughy goodness of the French Quarter treats was just what I needed.

As I bit into one, a little cloud of powdered sugar puffed out, and I sighed contentedly. “Damn, these are like a little piece of heaven.”

Donut nodded vigorously, his eyes shining with agreement. “Best thing ‘bout this city, ‘side from the partyin’ and the ladies.”

I had to laugh at that.

Donut might not have a lick of sense when it came to his attire, but the man knew what was important in life: good food, good times, and good company.

And in New Orleans, we had all three in spades.

“Your mama’s a smart woman, Donut. You should listen to her more often.” I winked at him as I licked the powdered sugar from my fingers, a surefire way to sweeten any day.

The morning was already shaping up to be a good one, and it wasn’t just the beignets. New Orleans had a way of putting a spring in your step and a song in your heart, even if that song was a little off-key due to last night’s indulgences.

Speaking of which, I needed to find some coffee to go with my sugar high.

“C’mon, Donut, let’s go find some caffeine to go with these beignets. I reckon we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

As we strolled through the French Quarter, the sun on our backs and the sounds of the city all around us, I felt a sense of contentment.

This was my kingdom, and I was its laid-back ruler.

We passed by street artists, the scent of gumbo and jazz floating out of every open door.

The city was a character itself, larger-than-life and always ready for a good time.

I couldn’t help but grin as I thought about the night before and the many nights like it.

The Bourbon Bar was the heart of this place, and I was its king, even if I was feeling a little fuzzy around the edges today.

“Boss, the air feels funny. Like a storm is coming,” Donut muttered, his mouth once again full of beignet as he looked around our beautiful city.

I agreed, nodding my head. “Feel it too, but this is New Orleans, after all. Our city speaks to us all the time.”

“Juju was up early reading the bones.”

“They say anything?”

“Only that something was coming.”

Frowning, I grabbed another beignet from Donut’s bag when I felt a buzz in my pocket.

Reaching for it, I looked at the caller ID, then at Donut, who gulped as he stared wide-eyed at my phone.

Pausing for a moment, I flipped the phone over in my hand, the name on the screen glaring up at me.

It was rare for this particular caller to reach out, and when they did, it was never for anything good.

Donut shifted nervously beside me, brushing powdered sugar off his bare chest like it was an excuse to avoid eye contact as he tried to make himself look presentable.

Fucker would have to put clothes on first to accomplish that feat.

“Are you going to answer it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I let out a breath, the kind that felt like it was trying to drag half my soul with it. “Gotta. It’s not the kind of call you ignore.”

Sliding my thumb across the screen, I brought the phone to my ear. “ M?man ?”

The voice on the other end was as smooth and sharp as a blade dipped in honey. “Wade Montague Crawley! I ought to take a switch to your hide, boy. Do you have any idea what the Ladies Auxiliary League will do when they learn you’ve gotten a girl in the family way?”

Huh?

Looking at the phone, then at Donut, I frowned. “You know what she’s talkin’ about?”

Donut, ever so helpful, just shrugged, shoving another beignet in his mouth as I saw Juju running down the street toward us, waving his hands in the air as if he were trying to swat a fly.

Placing the phone back at my ear, my m?man continued, “And another thing!”

Gasping for air, Juju bent over and wheezed. “The bones.”

Ignoring my m?man , I covered the receiver and glared at my vice president. “What about them? I’ve got a pissed-off m?man who ain’t makin’ a lick of sense.”

“The bones spoke.”

“Yeah, and unless they can tell me what burr is up my m?man ’s butt, I don’t care. You hear anything about an unwanted baby factory?”

“That’s just it, boss.” Juju looked at me. “It’s you.”

“What is?”

“You’re gonna be a father.”

I laughed. I couldn’t stop myself. I mean, ain’t no woman stupid enough to allow herself to get in the family way with my offspring. Woman would be a glutton for punishment if she did.

Seriously, who would want to be shackled to me for all eternity?

Don’t get me wrong. I was a catch. The cream of the crop, but I wasn’t no husband material, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to be a dad. I was still a child myself!

Just then, a broom fell.

“Company’s coming,” Juju muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the offending object. Quickly making the sign of the cross, he grabbed his bone necklace and kissed it, muttering something in Cajun as a dark cloud billowed overhead.

Looking up, I narrowed my eyes before seeing Donut gasp and Juju slowly back away. Glaring at the two scaredy cats, I snipped, “That don’ mean shit!”

Yeah... that was a lie.

Had I known what the next few weeks would be like, I would have skedaddled my ass deep into the bayou and never come out.