Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) (30 page)

“Easy now. Don’t go off half-cocked,” Beauregard said.

Axel jumped out of his chair and started pacing the floor. What if they killed Coyote? Tortured him? What if they came after the club next? And burned Hell to the ground around them? And every second he stood there jawin’ at Beauregard, everyone’s chances got smaller and smaller. “This is all your fucking fault.”

He raised a brow. “
My
fault? They didn’t attack
me
. They perceived the Horsemen as the weak link in this chain of command, and rightly so.”

No one had ever called them
weak
before. “Where the fuck do you get off? We’re—”

“Still operating under the delusion that you’re good men?” Beauregard countered. “You don’t follow the law any more than I do. But you have some pathological need to be respectable.”

“We’re all good men.
I am
a good man.” Mostly. Axel had doubts about some of the things he’d done in the name of the club, but he’d always had good intentions.

 That had to count for something.

Beauregard cocked his head to the side. “Yes, I suppose you are, despite your upbringing and the position you hold. But sometimes, a man needs to step up. The world is a complicated place, Axel. Sometimes, you have to do terrible things for the greater good.”

Axel didn’t want to hear any of this mass murderer psychobabble. Beauregard could justify the terrible things he’d done, but that didn’t mean Axel had to listen to his line of bullshit. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“What are you prepared to do to get rid of the Raptor problem?” he asked. “We need a permanent solution.”

Beauregard was talking about murder. “I’m not a killer.” He’d never gotten the Pale Rider patch and didn’t want one. Sure, he’d dole out some ass whuppin’s, put a few of them in the hospital, but it wouldn’t come down to homicide.

The Raptors would turn tail and run after they figured out the Horsemen wouldn’t let any more of their illegal activities slide. “I don’t know what kind of crazy-ass notions you have, but I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m not you,” he growled.

 “Not
yet
, no.” Beauregard picked up his silver letter opener, flipping it between his fingers. “You know,” he said, gesturing with the opener. “You shouldn’t have taken the president job unless you had the stomach for it.”

It bothered him the way Beauregard had set
yet
. “I—”

“Captain was a good leader,” he interrupted. “Yes, he ultimately betrayed your club, but he had greater goals in mind. He could see past the easy route and take the hard one. Your position comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

“Go on.” Axel had the distinct impression Beauregard had an ace in the hole.

Beauregard stood then paced the length of his office, hands behind his back. “Now, I’d call Machiavelli a genuine psychopath, but he was a smart man. He believed it was better to be feared than loved as a leader. I’ve taken that piece of advice to heart in my business,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, where his heart would be, if he had one. “And I suggest you do the same. The Raptors don’t love you, which you already knew, but they sure as shit don’t fear you. They think you’re a joke, easy pickin’s. And they’re right.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn’t. Beauregard had only spoken truth, which pissed Axel off even more.

“I can see now we’ve been remiss when it comes to those boys,” he said, leaning against his desk. “We should have taken out the trash before we began this operation.”

 “Ya think? Do you have a plan, or you wanna sit there and philosophize some more?”

“That depends on what you’re prepared to do.” His wide grin gave Axel the shivers. “I think instilling fear would be a good start. But let’s turn our attention to something a bit more urgent.”

“And what’s that?”

“The little matter of your betrayal.”

Axel sucked in a breath.
Did he mean Charlie? And the plan to empty his vault?
His hands curled into fists.

If he’d so much as touched a hair on her head…

Beauregard chuckled. “My, my…look at that anger. So, I reckon she wasn’t lying about the two of you. It must be love.” He rounded his desk, laying a hand against the vault. “Relax, your girlfriend is fine. Well, I
think
she is, anyway. Charlie’s a resourceful woman. She’ll do what needs to be done, or I wouldn’t have put her up to the task. But in hindsight, she could use little backup.”

“What task?” Axel stood up, leaning over the desk. He’d never been this on edge before. He’d always thought he didn’t have it in to kill a man. But Beauregard, with all the havoc he’d wrought in Axel’s life, had pushed him to the brink. And putting Charlie in danger was the flashpoint.

If anything happened to her, Beauregard was a dead man.

“Where. Is. She?” Axel bit out. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Beauregard’s eyes flared. “There it is! I was wondering if you had it in you.”

“Had what?”

“That
killer
instinct. You’ll need that to go after Cotton, as well as the Raptors.”

Axel frowned, sidetracked by the change of subject. “
That’s
how you want to handle the stolen drugs problem? Kill your boss?” It would solve one aspect, but they still had the Raptors and the cartel to handle.

“You’re missing the point. As usual.”

He didn’t have a clue what Beauregard was babbling about. “And then you happen to move a step up the rung in the Dixie Mafia, too. How convenient.” He was sick of Beauregard and his schemes. It took every ounce of will not to reach for his gun and blow a hole in the fucker’s temple. “But I’m not going to do your dirty work for you. Now
, where is Charlie?!”

Beauregard coolly pulled a pistol from his desk drawer. “Where’s Charlie? Killing Cotton, I’d expect. That’s the price of
her
betrayal, I’m afraid. And we both know she was working with you, even though she refused to sell you boys out. Honestly, you can’t buy that kind of loyalty. And believe me…I’ve tried.” His smile was nasty.

 “You sent Charlie to kill Cotton?” Axel demanded.

 “Is there an echo in here? Yes. However, Cotton’s the man who ordered the hit on her father. He’s actually responsible for Mr. Nash’s untimely death. So, I’d say it worked out well for both of us.” Then his brow knitted in mock concern. “Oh, now, don’t worry. I gave her a gun and the alarm code for his home in Dallas.” He pulled out his phone and thumbed the keyboard. “And now I’ve sent the code to you, too. “

Axel numbly felt his phone buzzing against his thigh. He was on overload. The woman he loved was in danger. And so was Coyote. The Raptors were trying to start a war. And the cartel would finish it, when they discovered the heroin had gone missing.

It was too much to process.

Axel couldn’t imagine Charlie killing anyone. She’d rob the man blind and dance on his grave, but she wouldn’t be the one to put him there.

Axel had to do this for her. He would bear the burden of taking Cotton’s life.

He met Beauregard’s blank stare. “You planned this,” he accused.

 “You give me too much credit. I couldn’t have anticipated all these events. You know,” he mused. “Charlie seems to be a woman with many talents, but I don’t suspect killin’ is one of them,” he said, echoing Axel’s earlier thought. “But I believe
you
might be up to the challenge.”

“I’m going to kill you for this,” Axel said softly.

Beauregard didn’t look concerned. “Funny. Earlier, you assured me you weren’t a killer. I was right about you.” He pulled an antique pocket watch from his coat. “I’d love to talk, but it’s nearly nightfall. And it’s time for my very public, alibi-worthy appearance in town. If you hurry, you might be able to rush in and save her. And I’d get going if I were you. She has a head start, and Cotton has a bit of a fetish.” He laid a hand on either side of his throat. “He likes to choke people.” His lips twitched. “Funny story, he tried to strangle Charlie a few weeks ago.”

Axel thought about the way she’d clutched her neck in the diner and he went cold, like all the blood was draining from his body.  He raced to the door. And the next thing he knew, he was on Highway 20, headed to Dallas, doing twice the legal speed limit.

Chapter Twenty-One

Charlie might’ve left Hell that morning, but she was still in it. Figuratively speaking. Time felt like it was slowing down, as if the day had taken years. She’d spent most of her time parked in the truck along the backside of the property, so she could observe Cotton’s home and his staff. He had a corner lot on a sleepy street, which made things much easier. Cotton had probably wanted a less visible place for his criminal activity.

But it worked for her.

And while he had money, he didn’t have good taste. The house was a sickly green color and all the floors had wraparound balconies, so it resembled a maze, or a series of sideways hamster wheels, wrapped around the floors. Behind the mansion was a stone garden, dotted with disturbing statues of naked women lying in various poses, as though asleep.

Or unconscious. Say, after being choked?

She nervously rubbed the necklace around her throat, and then removed it. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do it again.

His household staff didn’t live-in, and they’d taken off around nine in the evening. Charlie waited until a lone light on the second floor went out. She assumed that was Cotton’s bedroom. A sneak attack while he slept seemed to be the best bet. She doubted she could do this if she had to face him, talk to him. She waited half an hour for him to fall asleep.

Charlie crouched by the bushes flanking the house as she got closer to the keypad by the backdoor. After she input the code, the light on the keypad flashed green and she walked inside. She gulped down breaths and she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She felt jittery, like she’d had too much coffee.

She waited until her eyes adjusted to the dark then crept up the main staircase, going slowly. After she arrived on the second-floor landing, she counted the rooms, until she found the one she’d observed outside. Charlie eased the bedroom door open to find his prone form on the king-sized bed in the darkened room.

Cotton was curled on his side in flannel pajamas. Despite the way he’d gripped her necklace, he didn’t look like a killer when he slept. He could be someone’s grandfather. And her stomach knotted. Could she actually do this? Kill someone?

Screwing up her courage, Charlie gripped the gun where it rested in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. But her fingertips felt numb, as though she’d dropped her hand in icy water. Her hand shook.

Charlie stared at Cotton. This was the man who’d ordered her father’s death. This was the man who’d gotten excited over choking her.

But she still didn’t want to kill him.

Charlie wanted the judicial system to punish him. Or God. But Charlie couldn’t. No, she
wouldn’t
. To hell with Beauregard and his ultimatum. She’d run if she had to, but she wouldn’t let that bastard turn her into a killer.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t rob Cotton Krug. He’d earned it.

Charlie spotted his wallet on the nightstand, and that looked like a great place to start. He deserved to pay in some way for Scott’s death, even if it wouldn’t be nearly enough.

She tiptoed towards the bed.

And a gun clicked, but it wasn’t hers.

Oh, crap.

Cotton sat up in bed and flipped the switch on the bedside lamp.

Charlie blinked, momentarily blinded by the surge of light. Her eyes slowly became accustomed and she took in the lime green and lemonade yellow room. He pulled the gun from beneath his covers, resting it on his lap. And she forgot how to breathe.

“How did you…when did you…?” she sputtered.

“I was playin’ possum, wanted to see what you’d do. I heard you comin’ down the hall, sugar.” He gestured with his gun to the pocket of her hoodie. “Throw down your piece.”

Charlie hesitated as she pressed one hand against her throat. The other still clutched the gun in her pocket.

“Don’t be stupid, sugar. I see the way you’re clutchin’ that thing. Like you’re scared to death. You don’t have a clue how to shoot, do you?” He raised his weapon. “I assure you, I don’t have the same problem. Put it down before I blow a hole clean through your middle.”

Charlie carefully placed it on the floor then backed away from him, arms raised. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah? Well, looks like you got it anyway.” Cotton got out of bed and sidled closer to her. “Hold it right there, young lady.” He took a good look at her. “Well, now. I remember that pretty face. What a surprise.
Ms. Nash
. What brings you to my neck of the woods? Is Beauregard sending maids to do his dirty work now?”

Charlie hesitated, searching for the best possible thing to say. “Actually, yes,” she said, throwing Beauregard under the bus. “He wants you dead, and that’s the only reason I’m here.”

He shook his head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

Charlie paused, wondering if a lie would serve her better than the truth. “I have my own reason for being here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re sore about that little necklace fiasco. I was just havin’ a little fun.”

Sore? Sore?!
Charlie balled up her fist. Yeah, she wouldn’t mind if this bastard died. She’d be doing the world a favor. Charlie raised her chin, looking him in the eye. And the truth came tumbling out. “No. You killed my father, Scott Nash.”

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Who now? Scott Nash? I don’t recall anyone by that name, but I confess there’ve been quite a few bodies, sugar. You’ll have to jog my memory.” He moved forward a couple steps.

And Charlie retreated. Cotton had killed so many people, he didn’t remember them all? For a moment, she wished she would’ve pulled the trigger. Just so she could watch his lifeless body hit the floor.

Charlie continued to inch toward the door. He was old. She could outrun him, if she had a distraction. She glanced around the room, looking for something,
anything
to throw at him. “He, uh, did a bank job for you,” she said. “Roughly ten years ago.”