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

you’re eatin’ the wrong things.”
    Okayyy.
    Most people praised her healthy food choices. There was this whole assumption of virtuousness built into eating well—as though people assumed you were a better person for resisting temptation. Ash thought it had to be some sort of puritanical hang-up built into society. Why else would high calorie food be assigned decadent names—Devil’s Food Cake and Death by Chocolate.
    But Voodoo didn’t think so. Maybe because he was a chef, he was more concerned with how food tasted than its calorie content. Regardless, he seemed deeply offended, and Ash didn’t know what to say to him without making the situation worse.
    “Close your eyes,” he ordered.
    “I don’t think—”
    “Close them.”
    Humoring him, Ash shut her eyes.
    “I want you to concentrate. Take the time to reflect before you answer. What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”
    Ash considered the question. The best thing she’d ever eaten was chocolate mousse at her graduation dinner. Her parents had taken her and Abe, along with Steele, to a fancy French restaurant, Délicieux. The meal had been wonderful, but the dessert was amazing.
    She opened her eyes. “Chocolate mousse. I had it at my graduation dinner.”
    “An excellent dish. My grandmere used to make it for me the night before an importantday. She said it was good juju and would bring me luck. How was it prepared?”
    “The chef made it with farm-raised eggs, heavy cream, and dark chocolate. They served it in a chilled silver goblet with curls of chocolate and real, hand-whipped cream on top.” She’d savored every single bite.
    “And wouldn’t you say that dessert was an experience? That it gave you pleasure? Joy even?”
    Ash felt perilously close to tears. She hadn’t felt joyous in nearly a decade and, no, she didn’t just mean the delicious dessert.
    That night she’d accomplished something wonderful, and she’d spent the evening with everyone in her life who’d mattered most, including Steele, though she hated admitting it. Shortly afterward, she’d gone off to war, and life had never been the same.
    “It did.”
    “There’s no shame in allowin’ yourself simple pleasures. But I’ll have Angel bring you something… healthy .” He said the last word as though it should have four letters. The biker turned and stalked off majestically, his dreads whirling around his handsome face.
    “Damn. You’d think you insulted his mother or somethin’.”
    She shook off her sudden funk. “So it’s not my imagination?” Ash jerked a thumb at the retreating biker.
    “No, ma’am. He’s mad as an old wet hen.” Ace gave her a lazy sort of smile, a bedroom look he’d probably perfected during puberty. “But enough about him. Let’s talk about you.”
    Terrific. Here we go.
    “You and Steele aren’t hot and heavy then?”
    “Nope.” Ash didn’t want to talk about Steele. “Trust me, we’re cold and light.”
    Ace’s head whipped toward the door.
    Ash couldn’t help but turn in her seat to see what caught his attention so thoroughly. He wasn’t the only one engrossed either. The Horsemen at the counter turned to watch a leggy brunette stalk to the front counter. She wore a pair of tight jeans, black leather knee-high boots, and a matching jacket.
    Ash preferred her Nikes and yoga pants.
    The brunette had a long slim neck, and her hair fell in waves around her face. Large-framed sunglasses perched on the pert end of her nose.  She had a take-charge, get-outta-my-way vibe which denoted some military or para-military training.
    Angel handed the woman a white pastry box tied with string, and she made conversation with the prospect, though Ash was too far away to hear.
    “Who’s that?” Ash asked Ace, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he watched the woman with rapt attention. He reminded Ash of a hungry cartoon dog presented with a juicy steak just out of his reach.
    Ash snapped her fingers.
    He shook his head.