Free Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) by Cynthia Rayne

He leaned back in the booth, spreading his arms wide along the back of the seat.
    So she didn’t order any food, but Angel returned in a few minutes with their coffees. And she put exactly two spoonfuls of honey in hers. She didn’t use refined sugar or artificial sweeteners either. She’d broken her habit of using real cream and sugar, but it’d been painful.  Ace added a couple packets of Dixie Crystals to his.
    Another man sidled up to their table. He stood a couple inches over six feet tall with mocha skin and extraordinary silvery eyes. His dark hair was twisted into short dreadlocks and came down to right below his ears.
    “ Bonjour ,” he greeted Ace. 
    Ace nodded. “Mornin’, Voo.”
    “ Bonjour , mademoiselle .” He grasped her hand and brushed a kiss along the back of her knuckles. She couldn’t quite place his accent. Creole, maybe? It had a dash of French united with a bit of Southern and a trace of Spanish. “Welcome to Hades. I own and operate this fine establishment.”
    “Good mornin’.” She was charmed by his demeanor, despite herself.
    “You must be the famous Ashton Calhoun.” Voo studied her for a moment.
    She widened her eyes.
    “Axel and Steele texted me last night. I’m Voodoo, the Vice President. We don’t have many outsiders here, and I put two and two together.”
    “How come I didn’t hear about this?” Ace scowled.
    “You didn’t need to know.”
    “Yeah, I bet.” He turned to Ash. “Word to the wise, Voodoo’s got some freaky ass intuition powers, so watch yourself.”
    “Is it my problem all your thoughts are posted on your forehead just waiting for me to read them?” He glanced at Ash. “You’ll find I’m very perceptive, which ain’t my fault.”
    Somehow, she found it unsettling.
    “Hey, wait.” Ace frowned. “What did you say about Steele texting?”
    “Ashton is a former amour of Steele’s,” Voo explained.
    She rolled her eyes. “Steele’s not my boyfriend. Never has been and never will be. He’s just an old friend.” Hmph. Friend? Enemy’s more like it.
    When she looked up, Voo watched her with curious eyes. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”
    “You belong to Steele?” Ace eased out of the booth with a long face as though she’d come down with a sudden case of leprosy.  
    She gritted her teeth. “No, pay attention. I don’t belong to Steele or anyone else. Last time I checked, this was a free country.”
    Voo watched the interplay with interest, his gaze flicking back and forth between them. “Steele has no claim on you?”
    “ Oui ,” she said dryly, mocking his accent. “We’re partners, but only to solve this Raptor case. Nothin’ more.”
    “The hell you say?” Ace gave her a once-over. “Is he fuckin’ blind? You’re a knockout. You’ve got this whole super-hot, kick-your-ass kinda vibe. Steele hasn’t tried to tap that?”
    “How kind of you. Steele’s never touched me.”
    Well, that’s not quite true.
    “What an idiot.” Ace slid back into the booth.
    Evidently, her sudden case of leprosy had been cured.
    “I’m not disagreein’ with you.”
    Voo hmphed in response but kept his thoughts to himself. Thank God.
    Ash changed the topic. “I know you don’t have menus, but—”
    “Don’t worry none, I’ll bring you somethin’ delicious.”
    Yeah, Ash wanted something delicious, but she needed something nutritious. Eating anything other than some combination of yogurt, fruit, and/or grains would screw with her routine. All of those rituals didn’t allow for going off script—order, control, discipline.
    “Thank you, but I only feed my body healthy food.”
    “And what do you feed your soul?”
    She stared at him, completely flummoxed. “Uh, I care about carbs and fats, and how many grams of protein.”
    He stared at her as if she’d said something incredibly stupid or offensive.
    Probably both.
    “ Non . Food is life. Food is important. It should be an event, an experience, and if it ain’t,