Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) (17 page)

“Your dad’s a member,” he reminded her. Axel changed topics. “You know, Charlie’s a bad influence,” he said. “You shouldn’t hang out with her. She’s a thief.”

 “Yeah, and…?”

“
And
I don’t want you picking up her bad habits,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Now, tell me the Nancy story.”

“You said you already heard it from Sailor.”

“Yeah, but I want it from the Horseman’s mouth. Tell me, or I’ll bug you until you eventually give in.”

Damn, but she was tenacious. And Axel knew when he’d been beat. “Fine, I’ll give you the overview. In high school, we were young, in love and very stupid. I offered her a ring and asked her to marry me. I wanted to show her how committed I was, because she was going off to college.”

“And what happened?”

“She broke up with me.” It didn’t hurt anymore. He’d gotten past the anger and pain a long time ago, but what if he’d married Nancy and hadn’t joined the club. Would he be living some normal, suburban existence? Would he be happy?

“Damn. That’s cold, breaking up with someone who asked you to marry them.”

“Yeah, it smarted a bit,” he said. He’d spent the better part of two years climbing out of that funk and didn’t like to dwell on it. Axel stood up and dusted off his jeans. “But she made the right decision for her and…I hate to admit it…for me. I wouldn’t have wanted to drag her down with me.”

Marrying Joker had cost his mother dearly. He couldn’t do that to a woman he’d fallen in love with. Wasn’t that the point of love? He’d want what was best for her, even if it came at a cost to him.

And now Charlie had sparked his interest. Axel hadn’t a fucking clue what to do about her. No, she wasn’t sweet and innocent, but he cared for her, despite his better judgement. Getting in deeper with him wouldn’t end well.

But he’d figure all that out on his own. Axel didn’t want to drag Dani into it.

“And what about you?” Axel asked. “What about your love life?”

Dani shrugged it off. “Not much to tell.” Dani had a tomboy vibe, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. Plus, she could handle anything. He’d known a lot of prospects over the years who didn’t have her guts. Axel loved it, but he wondered if men were intimidated by her.

She needed a guy who’d appreciate her fearlessness. But he didn’t know of a Horseman who fit the bill. And he couldn’t imagine Dani with a club outsider. Unlike Axel, she seemed to thrive in Hell.

Axel wished he felt that way.

He rounded the car and took her by the shoulders, suddenly serious as all get out. “Whatever you want out of life, Dani, go after it. Don’t let the club, or your parents, or anyone tell you what you should want. Go after your dreams.”

Dani watched him a moment, something sad in her eyes, and she nodded. “I will. And what about you?”

Axel chucked her under the chin before he went back to work. “I made my bed. Now, I have to lie in it.”

***

It took Charlie another week to find an excuse to be in Beauregard’s office.

She’d emptied the mail from the box before the housekeeper got her mitts on it and carried it into Beauregard’s study. He hadn’t been around that morning, so it was the perfect time to poke around.

 Charlie quickly texted Coyote and after getting a go-ahead message, tossed the mail on the desk and approached the vault.

She grabbed the list Coyote had given her of her possible numbers and began imputing the digits into the safe’s keypad. As it beeped at her, flashing
Combination Failed
, she crossed off the numbers one by one. She could enter ten at a time, according to the manual she’d found in Beauregard’s desk drawer. Any more than ten incorrect tries, the system locked down, and the owner had to call the company for a new code.

None of the combinations worked.

She texted Coyote:
I’m done for the day.

Coyote:
How’d it go?

Charlie sent him the poop emoji.

Coyote sent her back a vomiting one.

Charlie:
Any luck finding evidence on the computer?

Coyote:
Zilch. I’m hoping you literally find a smoking gun in the vault.

Charlie:
Speaking of, why do the Horsemen want in that vault so bad? Axel never said.

Since Axel had been avoiding her and didn’t answer her questions, she was hoping Coyote might be a bit more cooperative.

Coyote:
Yeah, you’re gonna have to ask Axel.

Charlie:
Please?

Coyote:
Hell, no
.
You need to ask Axel.

Then he sent her a hand emoji, as in “talk to the hand”.
Dammit.

With a sigh, she gathered her cleaning supplies and went to the living room. Charlie had to dust and vacuum the place every other day, but she didn’t see why. It wasn’t even dirty. She doubted Beauregard even went in the room. She didn’t see any footprints on the carpet.

As she was wedged between a wingback chair and the wall, dusting the back of the chair, a voice startled her.

“Miss?”

Charlie turned to see a man in his sixties with thinning gray hair. He had heavy eyebrows and his dark brown eyes bulged slightly. The man was dapper, but his clothing was a bit too much. Like someone aping a style he’d seen others wear rather than putting it together himself. He sported a dark gray suit with a pink and gray bowtie, and a matching pocket square. Beneath the suit, he wore a white button-down shirt. Along with wing-tip shoes.

She suddenly remembered her role as maid. “Yes, sir. Can I help you?”

“Hello there.” He pressed a hand to his chest, the very picture of Southern charm and elegance. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Cotton Krug. What’s your name, sugar?”

“I’m Charlie,” she said slowly. She wasn’t sure what to make of him.

 “Ms. Sinclair let me in earlier and gave me a cup of tea, but I’ve been waiting nearly forty-five minutes. I’m looking for Mr. Beauregard.” He hooked his steel cane on his forearm and checked his watch. “We had an appointment nearly thirty minutes ago.” His expression darkened. “And I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but he isn’t here, Mr. Krug.” She hadn’t seen him around today, which was a spot of luck.

“Please, call me Cotton. And where’s Ms. Sinclair?” he asked, moving further into the room.

“Is it around two?” Charlie asked.

He nodded at his watch. “Why, yes, it is.”

Charlie smiled. “Between you and me? I think she’s watching a soap opera.” Crabapple had a thing for
After My Own Heart.
Charlie had caught her boss watching it a couple of times while she took an hour-long “coffee break”. But God forbid Charlie stopped working for a second, even to use the restroom. “Can I get you more tea? Or coffee, Mr. Krug? Or would you like me to leave a message for Mr. Beauregard?” Anything to get him out of her hair.

“I told you to call me Cotton,” he said softly. And then he moved into her personal space, crowding her against the wall.

Charlie tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. “I’m sorry, Cotton,” she said.

“And where does the housekeeper watch her show?” he asked. “Upstairs?”

Something about the way he said that made her nervous. Like he wanted to be alone with her. Charlie slid along the wall, intending to put more distance between them, when he placed a palm behind her head, blocking her exit.

He draped his cane over the chair and looped a finger through her St. Nicholas necklace. “Oh, dear, it looks like the chain is twisted. Allow me to help you with that.” He tugged it then, tightly.

Charlie gulped.
Something
was very wrong. She dropped the courteous maid demeanor. “Step away from me. Now.”

But he ignored her. Instead, he gripped the necklace harder, yanking it, pulling it tightly around her neck and twisting the end.

It bit into her flesh and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. Charlie clawed at his wrist. “Let me go,” she choked out.

“Yes, Mr. Krug, let her go,” Beauregard said, his voice low and menacing.

Krug released her and she sucked in air, coughing and choking. Charlie glanced up to see Beauregard standing a foot from them, his hands on his hips. His eyebrows were cinched together. “Kindly keep your hands to yourself while you’re on my property, Mr. Krug.”

“Remember who you’re talking to, boy.”

“And you should remember how much our employers abhor publicity.” He held out a hand. “Now, please join me in the study. I’m so sorry I was late for our meeting.” His voice dripped sarcasm.

Cotton nodded to her politely, as though he hadn’t been trying to choke the life out of her a few seconds ago. “Until we meet again, Charlie.” He grasped his cane and limped down the hallway.

“Are you okay?” Beauregard asked, reaching for her.

 “I’m fine, I think,” she said hoarsely, backing further against the wall.

“Good. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?” he suggested gently.

Charlie didn’t expect kindness from Beauregard. It was disconcerting.  “Okay.”

“And Ms. Nash, this is another one of those things that stays between us.”

“I understand,” Charlie said, before she hurried out of the room.

As impossible as it sounded, her father’s murderer had just saved her life.

***

Axel had texted Charlie the night before and asked her to meet him for a debriefing on the Beauregard situation at Hades in the morning. They were about to
debrief
over eggs and home fries at Hades, but he wanted to make it sound like a meeting.

 Not a date.

He’d avoided her for days and as much as he hated to admit it, he missed her.

It was six in the morning and starting to get busy. There were a few townies at the counter, some of his brothers in the booths. The hellions were hopping, delivering plates of food as fast as Voodoo got the orders up.

Axel watched as Charlie walked in the diner, and he couldn’t help but stare. He hated to say it, but he had a thing for her maid uniforms.

It wasn’t particularly revealing, as it came down to the mid-thigh, and she wore tights to cover her legs. The white cuffs and matching crocheted collar even covered her wrists and neck.

 Yeah, it was perfectly decent, but it did
indecent
things to his body.

She looked damned good and it unleashed some kinky French maid fantasies. Oh, yeah, he could get into a little maid action. Maybe if she wore a pair of thigh-highs, some garters, and a little feather duster to complete the look?

“Morning,” she said, sliding into the booth. She shrugged off her hoodie as Wendy ran over with a cup of coffee for Charlie and refilled his mug as well.

He took a sip and nearly scalded his tongue.

“You okay?” she asked.

Charlie’s eyes were still at half-mast and she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She didn’t wake up until she’d had at least one cup of coffee. Axel had been getting up at five in the morning for years, so it didn’t faze him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he got out, though his tongue was on the critical list. Damn shame, too. He’d love to lick…

Stop it!

He noticed she kept tugging at her high collar. “Something wrong with your neck?”

“No, I’m fine.” She stopped touching it, wrapping her hands around her coffee instead.

She’d just lied to him, but he didn’t know why. “Are you sure?” he pressed. “You can tell me anything.”

Charlie looked at him and for a moment, he thought she’d spill, but she licked her lips. “Positive.”

Axel wanted to pull the collar down and have a look for himself. “Are you hurt? Did Beauregard…do something?”

“No,” she said firmly. “Let’s move on.”

Axel sighed. He couldn’t make her tell him anything. “Have it your way. How’s the maid gig going, Robin? Any luck with the vault?”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “No, but I’ve had the opportunity to inspect
every freaking
toilet in the place.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “Did you know he has  six of them? Why the hell do you need six bathrooms?”

 “Rich people,” he said with a shake of his head. He was still trying to understand why someone would throw away money on a Hummer.

“I know, right? It’s just him and the staff in that huge house.”

Axel took another sip of coffee. “He grew up with a passel of brothers and one sister…I think. They needed all the bathrooms. Trust me.” There’d only been one bathroom in the Rollins household and getting in there had been a problem. Mainly due to Ryker’s fussy-ass grooming habits. If Elizabeth was smart, she’d get an extra bathroom.

“I guess,” she grumbled. “You know what? Having a real job is craptacular. He wants me there by eight every morning. Every. Single. Morning. And then I have lunch at a certain time, and I can’t leave until five o’clock. It’s like he owns me or something.”

“Yeah, that’s what a real job feels like.” Axel’s lips twitched. “You aren’t cut out for the daily grind, are you?”

 At Seventh Circle, he might be the boss, but he worked himself into the ground. Or he did before he added the president gig to his list of responsibilities. Axel usually got in early and stayed late but for the most part, he loved it. He could pretend that’s what he was–a small business owner, trying to make it. It had a nice, normal ring to it. Much better than the King of Hell AKA the president of the Four Horsemen.

“No, I’m not. It makes me want to start stealing from Beauregard now. Do you know he a Rolex? And he leaves it lying around. I’ve found it on his desk, and in the master bathroom, too. It’d be easy to slip it into one of my pockets. Or that black American Express card of his. I’m gonna take that thing from him if I see it next time.”

“No stealing until you get into the vault,” he ordered. One false step and she’d blow this operation.

Charlie leaned forward, raising her brows. “And if I don’t take that paricular order?”

“Then I’ll spank you, Robin.”

After he’d said the words, Axel groaned.
Where the fuck had that come from?
Personally, he blamed the maid uniform. And his unruly dick that’d been surviving on hand jobs.