Page 5 of Gator (Bourbon Kings MC #1)

New Orleans, Louisiana, that same day...

“GO AWAY! THE BAR IS CLOSED!” I shouted, leaning against the doors. Ain’t no way, no how was I gonna let in that street urchin! I’d heard the tales. The mass destruction he caused.

Nope.

My life was plain and simple, and I aimed to keep it that way. He could march his little ass back to the great state of Virginia where he belonged. Let him cause trouble there.

I was doing fine here all on my own!

“You open this door right now, Wade Crawley!” Mrs. Martha Steiner shouted. “I know your momma, boy, and I’m not afraid to call her!”

Yep. She sure did know my m?man . They were Facebook besties to boot. Physically, they’d never met, but socially, on the internet, well, that was different.

My m?man was a big-time book reader.

Not just any books, either.

The dirty ones.

You know, the ones that would make any gentile Southern woman blush scarlet red and faint to the heavens? Those books!

Well, not my m?man . She devoured them faster than Sunday service standing in front of a pot of gumbo! And thanks to my cousin Tilly, who showed her how to reach out on the web, my m?man found her people... the dirty book people!

And their ringleader was currently banging on my door!

“Yeah!” Cameron yelled. “What Granny said!”

“I don’t care!” I yelled back. “Nuttin’ you say is gonna make me open these doors!”

And that’s when a sheet of paper slid between my feet, like some dark omen sent from Hell to disrupt my peaceful solitude.

Gulping, I bent down and picked it up.

My hands shook as I read the words.

“Boss, what is it?” Donut asked as the rest of my boys held their breath.

“The bones never lie,” Juju whispered.

Opening the front door, I reached out, grabbed Carnage by his coat, and yanked him inside the club, slamming the doors shut behind him. I knew I shouldn’t have drank that final bottle of whiskey last night. Nuttin’ good ever came from being a glutton.

My m?man always taught me moderation.

Too bad I never listened.

I lived my life to the fullest, knowing that when my time came, I’d have to face my maker head-on. Just never thought he’d come in the form of a seven-year-old kid that scared the crap out of me.

Standing before the little brat, I waved the piece of paper he’d slid under my doors in his face.

“Is this for real?”

“About as real as it gets, Prez.” The brat smiled up at me as I stood there, my mouth hanging open like a fish out of water.

This kid, this little whippersnapper, had just served me some serious reality pie.

I knew my past wasn’t exactly saint-like, but to have my comeuppance delivered by a child was not how I imagined it.

The kid, with a cheeky grin, added, “Don’t worry, Gator. I’ve got a plan.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glared at the insolent brat. “What’s it gonna cost me, kid?”

“Nothing. I’m here to help.”

Help? This kid wanted to help me. I was intrigued, and a little scared, to be honest. I mean, what kind of seven-year-old talks like he’s some Mafia Don handing out favors like it’s nothing? But my curiosity got the better of me, and I had to know more.

“So, what, you’re here to bribe me or something? ’Cause I gotta warn ya, kid, I don’t do well with threats.”

“No threat, Gator. Just one future club president helping out another club president,” the kid said with a wink. “Unless you don’t want my help and you can handle this on your own? I mean, considering how everything’s gone in the past, I thought you’d welcome the help.”

“Kid’s got you there, boss.” Juju, my VP, chuckled.

“Kid’s a pain in the ass,” I growled, glaring at the smarmy brat.

“Oh, come on, boss,” Donut muttered, reaching into his bag for another beignet. “Been a while since we got to do a road trip. Let’s go and have some fun. Mardi Gras is still months away.”

“Statistically, the odds are in your favor. God knows you can’t mess up any more than you already have, Gator,” Worm muttered as everyone turned to look at the smartass brother with a book in his hand.

Rolling his eyes, Thore groaned, thumbing his finger at Worm. “While I ain’t got his marbles swirlin’ in my brainpan, I wouldn’t mind a change in scenery.”

Looking at Braveheart, the grumpy man just huffed as the rest of the brothers nodded like a bunch of bobbleheads in unison.

“If it helps, there will be cake,” Cameron said, sweetening the pot.

“Cake?” Donut smiled, his face covered in white sugary powder. “I like cake.”

I scratched my head, the hangover from the whiskey still lingering. “Alright, kid. You got my attention. So, what’s the plan?”

The little whippersnapper just grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “First, we get you and your boys dressed and out of New Orleans. I’m gonna need you all to lie low for a while, while I get everything else set up.”

I glanced at my crew, a ragtag bunch of misfits who had become my family. They were all watching the kid now, curiosity and wariness warring on their faces.

“And just where do you suggest we go, lil’ boss?” I asked, a hint of sarcasm lacing my voice.

The kid’s smile widened, and he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “The Rosewood Ski Resort, of course.”

Taking the paper, I frowned. “Uncle Jack’s place?”

“Why should we trust you, kid? For all we know, you could be leading Gator into a trap,” Juju, ever the cautious one, spoke up.

The kid’s grin didn’t falter. “You got nowhere else to go. Can’t stay at the Sons of Hell clubhouse, ’cause my Princess will warn her sister. Plus, Ms. Josie’s got loads of rooms. Plus, you will be there in time for the wedding.”

“Weddin’?” My eyes snapped open wide as I asked, “Who’s gettin’ hitched?”

“Your Uncle Jack is getting remarried in two weeks,” Cameron informed. “And I get to be in the wedding!”

Juju leaned closer and whispered, “Boss, you know what that means, right?”

Hell yes, I knew what that meant!

It meant my m?man and her sisters would be in attendance, which meant all of New Orleans would be there.

My m?man would tan my hide if I failed to show up to a family weddin’.

Family meant everything in the bayou, regardless of where you laid your head.

I couldn’t skip this shindig even if I wanted to.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. The whiskey wasn’t helping my headache, and the kid was starting to get on my nerves. But he had a point. Uncle Jack’s ski lodge was the only place.

“Fine, kid. We’ll take your lead. But if this is a setup, so help me, I will feed you to the gators.”

“You wound me,” the brat said, placing a hand over his heart. “I’m just trying to help a brother out. Now, pack your bags, and let’s get this shit show in the air. I promised King I’d be back for dinner.”

With a final cheeky grin, he turned and headed for the front doors while my brothers headed to grab their gear.

“You trust Carnage, boss?” Juju asked.

“Not as far as I can throw him, but I’ve got no choice. Can’t duck out on a family weddin’ and if this paper is right, I need to fix it before my m?man finds her and starts interferin’.”

“She ain’t gonna be happy to see you.”

“She never is.” I smiled, remembering the last time I saw her.

“Last time you saw her, she threatened to cut your dick off and shove it up your ass.”

“She didn’t mean it.”

Juju gaped. “She was holding a knife to your balls!”

“Will this do?” George Steiner asked as I walked into the Irish Rose Tavern later that night, after I flat out refused to stay at Uncle Jack’s ski lodge. That place was just too damn fancy for the likes of me.

Not to mention my boys.

“Merci beaucoup.” I grinned, stretching out on a well-worn, used sofa. Now, this was more like it. This place had that lived-in warm cozy feelin’ I was certainly used to. Plus, I knew King kept the place stocked with all kinds of good tastin’ whiskey.

“Scribe keeps the fridge stocked, so there is plenty of food, and all the alcohol you can drink is downstairs. Help yourselves.” The good doctor grinned from ear to ear, and my boys wasted no time helping themselves to the house spirits as he headed for the door.

Without saying another word, the good doctor left, and I jumped to my feet.

“Juju, crack open a bottle. I’m thirsty,” I said, walking over to the window to look at the small town of Rosewood, Virginia.

It was a cute, quaint town, but it was no New Orleans, that was for sure, but my woman lived here, so I had to respect the place.

Standing in front of the window, I wondered what she was doing tonight, then smirked.

I already knew what she was doing. She was watching her show. The only show that mattered to her.

Still, even being so close, I wasn’t sure she would be happy to see me. We didn’t leave on the best terms the last time we were together...