Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) (11 page)

“I see,” Nettie responded.

There was a long and what sounded like judgmental pause to Charlie. She held her breath, hoping she’d at least be asked to interview.

“Do you have any
other
job experience?” Nettie asked.

Charlie took a deep breath and let her rip. “Actually, I’m a part-time bartender at Perdition.” She knew Axel would secure a reference if she needed it. From what she’d discerned about Beauregard from Axel and Frost, she’d bet he’d want someone in his camp with a club connection.

“You are?” Nettie sounded a bit more interested now. “Hold on a moment, please.” There was a muffled sound, as though she’d set the phone down.

Charlie bit one of her knuckles as she waited.

After another lengthy pause, Nettie picked up the phone once more. “To be candid, this is the first phone call we’ve had about the job, so our options are…limited. Can you be here at 2 p.m.? Mr. Beauregard interviews all of his employees personally.”

Now
that
, Charlie hadn’t anticipated. She’d figured Beauregard would assign the task to the housekeeper. Charlie didn’t know if she was ready to face her father’s murderer, but she’d have to be. “Yes, I can,” she said. “That’d be great.”

“Excellent.” Nettie’s tone didn’t sound satisfied, despite her words. “Do you need directions?”

“Yes, please.” As Nettle rattled them off, Charlie jotted them down on her palm, since she didn’t have a piece of paper, and then ended the phone call.

She tucked the cell in her pocket and took off for Inferno Firearms. It was time to go high-tech on this bastard.

***

Charlie walked into Inferno Firearms find a gun owner’s version of a kid’s candy store. If the candy in question was lethal. Inferno had long, walnut display cases full of knives, Tasers, and every gun imaginable. Along one wall was an entire display of assault rifles. Even ore rifles lined the wall behind the counter.

And she found another Horsemen hottie standing in front of them. This one had spiky dark hair and warm hazel eyes. He wore a pair of tight blue jeans and his leather Horsemen’s cut with no shirt beneath, just tanned skin and a muscled six-pack.

His gaze swept over her, head to toe and then back again. “Well, hello there. What can I do for you, darlin’?” He winked.

“I’m looking for Coyote.”

He ran a hand down the length of his muscular chest. “Why settle for Yo when you can have some Steele?”

Steele was a good name for him. He looked like he was made of steel—big biceps, hard, muscular body.

Too bad she was just browsing.

 She only had eyes for one Horseman and he’d decided to be stubborn. If she couldn’t have Axel, she didn’t want to settle for another one. “That’s sweet, but I’m here on business. I’m Charlie. Did Axel mention me?”

Steele frowned then bobbed his head. “That name rings a bell.”

 “It should. I’m working with the club. That’s why I need to meet with Coyote,” she prompted.

“Oh, yeah, thief girl. He’s in the back.” Steele jerked a thumb in the direction of the hallway behind him. Then leaned over the counter. “And when you’re done jawin’ with him, you can come to Perdition with me and have a little drink. For starters. There’s no reason we can’t mix business and pleasure.”

She wished Axel felt that way.  Charlie loved to flirt, especially with someone as sexy as Steele, but it was a no-go. “Uh, no, thanks.”

“Did I hear you right?” he questioned, glancing down at his own body. “You’re sayin’ no to this?”

Charlie sighed. “Guess so.”

“Well, fuck. You’re the second woman who’s turned me down in the past month. My mojo is off.” He sounded perturbed, not pissed. Charlie figured most women took him up on the offer.

“I think your mojo is fine,” she said. “I’m…not on the market. I’m sure you’re a fantastic date.”

He raised a wicked brow and his mouth curved into a sinful smile. “Who said anything about dating?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity. “And on that note, I’m going.”

Steele shrugged. “Your loss, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure.” Charlie rounded the counter and shuffled down the hallway to find an office door. She knocked on it. “Coyote?”

The door swung open and a man stood in front of her wearing acid yellow trousers with a patchwork coat of many colors–red, blue, pink, green, and bits of orange. Beneath that vibrant horror, he had a plaid waistcoat over a white button-down shirt, and a blue polka-dotted ribbon was tied around his throat.

Just looking at him hurt her eyes, and she blinked a few times.

He did a little twirl and the outfit wasn’t any better from the back. “What do you think?”

“I think Rainbow Brite would say your outfit is too loud,” she said, wincing at the sheer ugliness. Charlie focused on the rest of his features to give her eyes a rest. He looked like he was in his twenties. He had long, straight black hair, high cheekbones, and copper skin that hinted at Native American heritage.

“It’s supposed to be loud. It’s from the eighties, and everything was flashy then. Don’t you recognize me?”

Charlie frowned as she eyed his costume once more. “Willy Wonka? A clown?”

His mouth fell open. “No, I’m the sixth Doctor.”

“Doctor who?” she asked.

He laughed, pointing at her. “Ha! Made you say it.” Then he turned and walked into his office. He peeled off the coat and carefully hung it on a hook on the wall, along with the waistcoat, which left him in the yellow trousers and white shirt. He shrugged on a leather cut like Axel wore.

“You’re Coyote, right?” she asked. Unless some crazy guy had broken in?

He nodded. “Yep, that’s me, but I answer to Yo as well. Sorry about the getup. I just wanted to try out my new cosplay outfit.”

“Cosplay?”

“Yeah, costume play for the next comic con.” He bit his lower lip. “If I make it there.”

Charlie took a good look around his office. Coyote didn’t seem like a biker. There was a definite nerd vibe. On the wall, he had framed Avengers posters, along with one that featured an enormous blue box and the words:
Keep Calm and Call the Doctor
. Across his desk, he had an assortment of action figures. He had a big-screen television in front of a recliner on one side of the room, as well as an X-Box.

 It looked like a dorm room. At MIT.

“Little disconcertin’, huh?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, out there, it’s like the Wild West,” he said, waving a hand at the doorway. “And in here, its
nerd
vana.” He shrugged. “But it works. If the zombie apocalypse starts, this is the place to be. We got ammo to last for years and plenty of entertainment. All we need is some of Voo’s canned goods.”

Charlie laughed.

He wagged a finger at her. “Don’t laugh, it could happen one day. Then you’ll be wishin’ you horded toilet paper and Twinkies.”

That didn’t any make sense, but Charlie left it alone. “Okay. So, about Beauregard…”

“Right. You’re gonna be stealin’ from Voldemort.” He whistled. “I’m not sure if that’s brave or stupid.”

Charlie laughed. That was one reference she’d picked up on. Beauregard was the big-time evil in town, so it was fitting. “Probably a mixture of both.”

“Well, I can help you out.” He leaned forward to whisper, “Ever since he tricked our club into helping him, I’ve been itchin’ to take a gander at his Chamber of Secrets.”

Ewww.
Charlie frowned.

And so did Coyote. “Oh, man, did that come out wrong. So very,
very
wrong. Moving on,” he said, clasping his hands together. “The vault is in his study, and I’m pretty sure he has cameras in there. I mean, he has them up and down the driveway, so we know he’s a bit paranoid. And who wouldn’t be? When you’re a killer, people are bound to be gunnin’ for ya. So, we need to give him a virus.”

“A virus?”

“Yeah, I wrote it myself, though not for this particular project.” He tapped away at a keyboard and pulled something up on the screen, peering at it. Two different monitors sat on his desk. Charlie didn’t mess much with computers.  It was too easy to track your movements with one of those. The nightly news was full of criminals who’d screwed up one way or another with social media.
No, thank you.

“All you need to do is plug this into one of his computers,” Coyote explained as he handed her a tiny black thumb drive. And, truth in advertising, it was almost exactly the size of her thumbnail.

She glanced at the tiny thing, worried she’d somehow lose it between here and Beauregard’s place. “That’s it?”

 “It’ll give me a backdoor into his security system, and he won’t even notice,” he said. “I’m a computer ninja.”

 “But how do I do that, if the place is being videotaped?”

“You’re gonna have to be sneaky,” Coyote said. “Since you’ll be cleaning, I’d just pretend to dust off the computer and quickly plug it in.”

She nodded. It sounded simple enough.

“Afterwards, I can access his cameras. I’ll be able turn them on, turn them off, and access the feeds.” Coyote studied her. “One professional to another, how will you crack the vault? Will you drop into the study on a wire like Tom Cruise in the first
Mission Impossible
?” He held out his arms for effect. “Ooh! Or drill the safe?”

“Nothing that exciting, sorry. I do it the old-fashioned way, by trial and error. I’m going to enter combinations, one by one, until I get it right.”

She usually started with the default numbers. Most companies had a default code all of their safes were set to, and a surprising amount of people never changed the code. Though she doubted Beauregard would be that foolish. Then she’d move on to more personal numbers, like anniversary dates.

The corners of his mouth turned down. “No drills? No wires?”

“I could do a drill job, but that’d set off alarms. I’d never make it out of there with the loot. Not with all those guards.”

Coyote sighed. “Ah, I get it. With your way, you can walk out undetected.”

“It’s low-tech, but it works.”

“Well, if you get me into his computer systems, I’ll search for likely combinations– important dates, birthdays, and such. And if you give me your phone number, I’ll text them to you.”

“That would be a big help.” Charlie gave him the digits and Coyote whipped out his phone and entered the number, then sent her a text.

 “Good. Then text me when you want to try numbers on the safe, so I can manage the camera feeds. I’ll loop some video of an empty office while you’re trying them out.” He held up his hands like some guys would brandish a weapon. “I got the quickest fingers in Texas.”

Charlie grinned. She liked Coyote. He was…
adorkable.
An adorable dork. “You know what? You ought to come over to the dark side with me. With your computer skills, you’d make a killing.”

“I know, right?” He sighed. “But I’m a Jedi and I don’t use my powers for evil.”

***

Coyote might’ve vowed not to go to the dark side, but Beauregard lived there. And by the looks of things…evil paid well.

Charlie surveyed Byron Beauregard’s study as she waited for him to meet with her. When she’d arrived at the manor, a big guard had escorted her into his office with a few terse words.

 Everything was so freaking fancy–antiques, shelves full of leather-bound books, and a Persian rug on the floor. She wondered if all of his precious possessions eased his guilt. He’d had to kill a lot of people to get where he was.

People like her father.

She doubted the bastard felt guilty about his crimes. She bet he’d gunned her father down and hadn’t thought about it since.
But why? What had Scott been doing in this town, messing around with a slime ball like Beauregard?

No, don’t ponder that now.

She placed a hand on her pounding heart and willed herself to calm down.
Be cool, calm.
As a thief, she’d learned to master her emotions. If she didn’t remain level-headed during a job she’d get sloppy.

But Charlie couldn’t help but stare at the vault, positioned right behind his desk. It was built into the wall and the size of a door. The safe seemed to stare right back at her, gleaming and black. Vaguely sinister.

The answers she was looking for had to be in there. All she had to do was crack it open.

Charlie noted it had a number pad. Thank God it wasn’t the new biometric kind that required a thumbprint to get in. She wanted to get closer to it, take a good look, but she didn’t dare move a muscle. Beauregard might come in any second. Plus, the camera issue. She needed to scope the room out when the time was right. Hopefully, when she had a plausible reason to be in there.

Her dad had taught her the skills needed to crack a safe. She’d practiced on those crappy ones you’d find in a hotel room as a teenager. Her father would randomly select a number and sometimes, she’d stay up all night, trying to crack it. Charlie always got in, no matter what. And once she’d cracked a safe at a pharmacy, but the dumbasses hadn’t changed the factory-issued number. Scott had been shot in the leg and she’d needed the high-octane painkillers, along with some antibiotics. She’d dug every bit of the bullet out and after a few weeks, he was good as new…except for the puckered scar on his skin. And a slight limp.

That’s when he’d started making noise about one last big heist. He said he’d get enough money to set them up and then they’d go legit. Scott had talked going back to Pennsylvania, maybe getting his old job back. Charlie used to imagine about what their lives would’ve been like if he’d succeeded. She’d have finished high school, maybe gone on to college. Would she have a legit job now?

Focus.

Charlie couldn’t afford to get lost in stupid daydreams. She had to live in the here and now. Would she be able to get out of this alive? Or would Beauregard shoot her, too?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Beauregard said as he strolled into the room.

Charlie jumped in her seat. “Um, no problem.”

He said the words politely, but she doubted he meant that, judging by his grin. He was used to people waiting on him, waiting
for
him. Beauregard wanted Charlie to know that her time belonged to him.