Devil’s Debt (Devil’s Regents MC: Baton Rouge #1)

Chapter 1

Jo-Leigh

“The world is your playground, so let’s show them what we’re capable of!”

Cheers erupt around me, but I can’t summon the energy to smile, let alone celebrate. High school is officially over. It’s an ending that feels more like a funeral than a victory. For someone like me who's been coasting through life with a cracked compass and no map, it's terrifying.

What would my classmates say if they knew I’ve spent the last two years living in my car?

If they knew the real reason I was kicked out of my last foster home.

If they knew my foster father was found standing over my bed in the middle of the night.

No one asked questions. No one cared if I was okay. They just wanted me gone.

So yeah, maybe I’m not surrounded by family or friends, but at least I made it.

I’m graduating. That’s something. Even if it’s in a special ceremony in December, not May, like most graduations.

The school district finally got around to creating a fast-track program, mostly for the teen moms, helping them finish school before they give birth.

Just to be clear, that’s not my story. Not even close, despite the rumors.

Someone bumps my arm, and I blink back to the present.

Everyone around me is standing, caps in hand, ready for the big toss.

Adele LeBlanc, the girl next to me, has a cap decked out in a full-on Twilight theme.

Yes, the vampire movie, not the time of day.

We’ve been alphabetically chained together since seventh grade, yet I don’t think we’ve exchanged more than two words.

So when Adele turns and says, “Are you coming to my party?” I almost forget how to breathe.

I glance over my shoulder, convinced she must be speaking to someone else.

She laughs. “I was talking to you , Joey-Leigh.”

I cringe. Only people who don’t know me call me that. It’s Jo-Leigh .

“Oh, um… I didn’t know there was a party.”

“There’ve been flyers all over the senior hallway for weeks,” she says, shaking her head like I’m some kind of lost cause.

Maybe I am.

“What’s your number? I’ll text you the info.”

I hesitate. My prepaid phone is hanging on by a thread with just a few gigs of data left, and I need those for job applications or emergency weather alerts. Not teenage party invites. Still, I rattle off the number when she pulls her phone out from beneath her graduation gown.

“There. I texted you.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though I’m not sure I mean it.

“It’s out at Lake Verret. Bring a swimsuit.”

Before I can reply, she wraps me in a quick, unexpected hug, then darts off toward the sound of someone calling her name. The countdown starts—five, four, three—and the sky fills with shouts and the rustle of caps ready to fly.

Freedom High’s special graduation ceremony only has twenty-one of us walking the stage, but the stadium seats are full.

Guess this tiny town of Paincourtville, Louisiana loves a spectacle.

That also means I’ve got two choices. Leave now and beat the traffic or wait it out until the parking lot clears and no one’s around to judge the rusted-out junker I call a car.

Easy decision.

I turn and slip out before the caps go airborne. One last quiet exit from a place that never really saw me anyway. No one notices as I slip through the crowd. Behind me, a roar of cheers erupts just as I reach the doors. I don’t look back.

Outside, the humidity hits me like a wet towel.

It’s thick and clinging, even in the dead of winter.

That’s the deep South for you. I tug at my graduation robe, unfastening the buttons.

We were told to wear something nice for the ceremony, but I don’t own “nice.” Just a pair of frayed jean shorts and a hand-me-down t-shirt under the stiff purple fabric. Not like anyone noticed.

My car is parked in the far back corner of the lot, tucked away from the shiny SUVs and polished sedans I’ll never be able to afford.

By the time I reach the old Honda, sweat trickles down my spine.

The car’s once-white paint is sun-bleached and rusted in blotches like peeling skin.

The check engine light’s been a permanent fixture since I bought it.

Still, it’s mine. I hustled for it, and no one can take it from me. I won’t let them.

The door lock is busted. I have to wiggle the key just right, which is getting harder with every try. I’ll need to replace the mechanism soon, and the thought of coughing up sixty dollars makes my stomach twist. But if I can’t get in my car, I don’t have a place to sleep tonight.

I mutter a curse when the door sticks again.

“Pretty bold to try and lift a car in broad daylight,” says a voice behind me. It’s low, smooth, and just a little amused.

I screech and whip around, heart in my throat.

A massive man towers over me, easily a foot and a half taller, maybe more.

I instinctively press myself against my car, like that’ll do anything.

It’s not just his height that’s intimidating.

It’s everything. The dark buzzed hair, the chiseled jaw cloaked in a five o’clock shadow, the sheer mass of him.

Muscle on muscle, like he was carved from stone and then dropped into my life just to scare the hell out of me.

I feel tiny next to him, and I’m not tiny. “Fat” is usually the word people throw at me when they think I can’t hear. Heck, sometimes even when they know I can hear.

My gaze flicks from his full lips to his ice-blue eyes that are currently locked on me. He’s waiting for me to say something.

“I—I’m not stealing it,” I stammer. “It’s mine. The handle’s just broken.”

I shift to the left, giving him a clear view of the door, trying to make it obvious I’m not up to anything shady. He leans slightly to peer over my shoulder right into the backseat where my sleeping bag is sprawled out like a dead giveaway.

Crap. I forgot to stash it in the trunk before the ceremony.

The way he lingers on it… yeah, he knows exactly what it’s for.

“I, uh,” My voice catches, but I push forward. “I need to go. I’m meeting some friends at a party out at the lake.”

His gaze lifts from the backseat to meet mine. “The lake, huh?” A pause. “Well then, you better get going.”

We stare at each other, locked in this weird, tense silence. I’m not sure if he’s suspicious or just curious, but either way, I need out of this moment.

I finally turn back to the door, fumbling with the lock until it gives with a reluctant click. I slide into the seat so fast that I bump my knee on the steering wheel.

“You should get that fixed,” he says, resting one hand casually on the roof. “I’ve got a shop in Baton Rouge off Sherman. Tell them Swag sent you.”

“Swag?” I echo, blinking.

He taps his chest. “That’s me.”

“Right. Thanks.”

He steps back as I shut the door and lock it.

The man— Swag —just smirks at me through the window as I start the engine.

Thank God it turns over. Lately, it's been a coin toss whether it’ll even start.

I ease the car out of the lot, still feeling his gaze burning into the back of my neck like a brand.

My muffler drags the ground as I speed away, which I’m sure he notices.

There’s no way I’m going to that shop on Sherman.

I might not get out much, but even I know that’s Devil’s Regents MC territory.

People whisper about them like they're ghost stories come to life. Guns, fights, disappearances, and worse. If Swag is part of that? Yeah, hard pass. I’m not about to roll up asking for favors from a biker gang.

I catch one last glance of him in the rearview mirror before I make a sharp turn and head toward the only place that’s ever felt halfway safe.

The back lot of Sweet Caroline’s is almost empty, save for Armand’s ancient pickup and Caroline’s sedan.

I park in the shadows and kill the engine.

There goes Adele’s lake party, not that I could’ve gone anyway.

I picked up an extra shift tonight. Caroline needed help, and I need the cash. Priorities.

I peel off my graduation robe and toss it onto the passenger seat, its purple sheen catching the last slant of sunlight. One more milestone that didn’t quite feel like mine. But that’s okay. I’ll find what I’m looking for one of these days.

Inside the diner, it smells like coffee and fried things and comfort.

“You’re early! Stop right there!” Caroline calls from behind the counter, raising a hand like she’s directing traffic.

I freeze, confused.

She disappears into the kitchen, only to reappear a second later with a cake balanced in her hands. Armand follows, grinning like a proud grandpa.

“Congratulations, Jo-Leigh!” they both say, almost in unison.

A grin splits my face, the kind that hurts a little because I’m not used to smiling that big. “You didn’t have to do that for me!”

“Of course we did. Especially since you’re saving my butt by working tonight,” Caroline says, setting the cake down with a flourish. She narrows her eyes at me. “Unless you’ve got plans? I heard the LeBlancs are throwing a big party at Lake Verret.”

“I was planning to stop by after my shift,” I lie smoothly.

She touches my cheek, fingers warm and gentle. “Good. You deserve a little fun.”

Fun usually costs money. And money is what I need to get the hell out of this town, so, no, I won’t be going.

I force another smile. “What kind of cake did you get?”

“Chocolate. Obviously.”

She slices into it while I stash my bag in the back and tie on my apron. I make sure every customer gets a piece before grabbing my own. The rich smell makes my stomach rumble. This’ll probably be my only real meal today, so I make sure to eat it slowly, so it doesn’t make me sick.

Caroline and Armand bicker in the background, like always. About coffee filters or how many napkins to put out. But under the back-and-forth, there’s a kind of rhythm to them. It’s comforting. They might squabble, but they leave together every night. Always.