Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) (12 page)

He tucked a black American Express card in his billfold before pocketing it.
Holy crap.
He had a Centurion card. She’d heard about those. It was a charge card without a limit. She could do some serious damage with that.

 She normally never bothered with credit or debit cards, since they were highly traceable and the first thing to be cancelled. Scott had taught her to toss them, unless she wanted to end up on the nightly news in a grainy security video.

Charlie was a cash fan. It was virtually untraceable and ready to go without passwords and pins. And maybe a tinge of conscience entered into the equation, as well. With plastic, she could wipe someone out financially with an outrageous shopping spree, but that wasn’t her style. She only took enough to get by. Beauregard’s AMEX might be worth the risk. And if anyone deserved financial ruin, it was this guy.

Charlie had looked forward to sizing him up, getting a sense of him. Or a
whiff
, to use her father’s terminology. She gathered any information she could.

Axel and Frost failed to mention his beauty, although straight men probably wouldn’t care. His blond hair fell over his forehead in an artless wave. And he had big blue eyes. She put his height around six-foot and Charlie bet his body was ripped, because he moved with muscular grace, though she couldn’t see much of it beneath his expensive black pinstriped suit.

His home and clothing told her about his wealth, but the antiques and the books on display indicated something else. He was cultivating an air of respectability. Most thugs reveled in their outlaw nature, a mixture of bravado and stupidity. But not Beauregard.
Interesting.
He was a thug pretending to be a gentleman. Or
wanting
to be one?

“Did you have to wait long?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Nope.” Damn, she’d been quiet a long time. Charlie offered him a wide, slightly flirtatious smile and lowered her lashes.

 She’d gone for a bubble-headed-blonde approach. When she grifted, she adopted a persona, even if the con was a few minutes long. A naïve, ditzy type seemed perfect. People wouldn’t assume she thought too much about
anything
. Ergo, she wouldn’t be considered a threat.

Charlie had put together a somewhat provocative outfit–a black miniskirt, knee-high leather boots, and a tight black sweater. She thought it rode the line between dressing up and appearing sexual–which was what her persona would wear to a job interview.

Beauregard didn’t respond to her flirtation. Instead, he sat down at the desk and grabbed a fountain pen and a legal pad. “I’m a bit pressed for time, so we’re going to jump on in, okay?” The question was rhetorical and polite for the sake of being polite. He’d already established his dominance.

“Fine by me, Mr. Beauregard.” The less time she spent around him, the better. She wanted to snuggle up with the vault behind his desk and be on her merry way with loads of his cash stuffed in her pockets. And the evidence to put him away for life. She didn’t want a confrontation.

“You’re Ms. Nash, right?”

She gave him wide vacant eyes. “Yes, Charlene Nash.” As Charlie said the last name, she waited for a flare of recognition in his eyes, but saw none. She could’ve used an alias, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was her subtle way of saying
fuck you.
He’d figure out who she was easy enough anyway. Afterwards. But she’d be long gone by then.

“My housekeeper said you don’t have any experience cleaning.”

Charlie had stayed in hotels for the past few years and they’d always came with maid service, no matter how low-end they were. And when she and Scott managed to stay in an apartment now and then, housekeeping hadn’t been a big priority for either of them.

 “Not professionally,” she said, as though it were an admission. She bit her lower lip. “But I keep my place spick and span.”
Another lie.
She was a slob, always had been. Scott had complained about the “trail” she left around the house–discarded socks, dishes from a meal, any jewelry she’d been wearing. Every once in a while, he’d grab a clothesbasket, gather up all of her stuff and shove it on her bed, so she was forced to put it away.

He steepled his hands. “She said you were bartending at Perdition. Why the sudden change of career?” His intense perusal was unnerving, almost unnatural. Like he could see into her soul or something.

Did he suspect her?

No. She was being paranoid. The man was a killer, but he didn’t have supernatural powers.

Charlie was good at this. She’d practiced for years. “I’m looking for extra work. I have bills to pay.”

 He cocked his head to the side. “Tell me. Are you a hellion?”

Charlie frowned. She hadn’t heard the term before, but from the way he’d said it, she though the answer should be no. She came up with a maybe response that rode the fence. “I don’t like labels, but I hang around Perdition and Hades, if that’s what you mean.”

“And how long have you been…
hanging
around the club?”

 “Only a couple of weeks. I’m new.”

“I see.” He cocked his head, continuing his nerve-wracking perusal. “And did you tell any of them you were looking for work here?”

Charlie wasn’t sure if this was a job interview or an interrogation. “I don’t think that’s any of their business. Do you?”

His lips formed a thin line as he contemplated her answer, and then he inclined his head as though he found her response pleasing. “And what brought you to Texas?” he asked. “I can tell by the accent you aren’t local.” He gave her an
aww shucks
grin. “No twang.”

Hmmm. Evidently, she’d passed his initial scrutiny. Beauregard had determined she wasn’t a threat, but she knew his down-home demeanor was an act. He intended to lull her into a false sense of security. Charlie knew, because she used the same tactics. “I’ve never been one to put down roots. I travel here and there.” Charlie said with a shrug. “I’m not ready to settle down yet.”

“What about your family?”

An image of her father flashed before her eyes. And her mouth went dry. She licked her lips. “It’s just me now. My father…died a while back. I don’t have anyone else.” Charlie hoped her expression didn’t give her away.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

Yeah, I bet you are, you son of a bitch.

His brows furrowed and he seemed to be thinking it over. Wondering how useful she might be?

Charlie tried not to smirk. Pulling a con on a fellow con artist was gratifying. Particularly one who had a lot to answer for.

 “Now that we know each other a bit better, tell me more about yourself. Your personal life.”

Hmph. He’d just used the word
we
.

“Like what?” she asked all wide-eyed.

“Have any of the brothers take a
particular
interest in you?”

Just to be authentic, she put up a little protest. “What does that have to do with cleaning?”

His amused curiosity evaporated. “My job. My rules,” he said. “Answer the question.”

For a man like him, information would be a necessity. It would keep him one step ahead of his competition, which could be the difference between life and death. Ergo, she needed to appear invaluable. Charlie thought on her feet, grasping for something…
someone
that’d give her value.

 “Axel,” she said. “He’s taken an interest in me.” It was sort of the truth, which worked.

“Axel?” Beauregard chuckled. “My, my, the president himself.” He pursed his lips. “And I had it on good authority he keeps to himself these days, ever since that ugly business with his former fiancée.”

Charlie wanted to know more, but she didn’t ask. “He
tries
to keep to himself,” she said carefully. “But he’s been hanging around me.” Then she offered another truth that could be misconstrued. “He and I did laundry together last night. And he’s going to fix my car.”

His brow furrowed. “I see. And did he tell you to apply for this job?”

“No.”

 “Have you slept with him?” Again, that intense stare of his. It could peel paint off the walls, it was so forceful.

Charlie blinked and scrambled for a response. She hadn’t expected that question! “That’s none of your business.” She shifted in her chair and stared down at the carpet, deliberately conveying her discomfort.

“
Everything
is my business. Now
, answer the question
.”

She glanced up at him and could feel a blush heating her cheeks. Damn. She was good at acting, but not
that
good.
What’s the deal with the blushing?
“Not yet, but I think it might happen.” Well, she wanted it to happen anyway.

Despite Axel’s protestations, they had a connection. Charlie had never felt anything like it before.

“And how do you know? Woman’s intuition?” His tone was mocking.

 “More like a good bet,” Charlie said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “He wants me.”

He laughed at that, eyes dancing. “Don’t flatter yourself. There are dozens of hellions to choose from, all wet and eager to get a piece of the president. What makes you so special?”

Beauregard clearly had issues with women. She could use that to her advantage. Charlie affected a sensual smile. “I have a trick or two up my sleeve.” She thrust her chest out. “I might surprise you.”

His eyes widened. “Maybe.” His perusal wasn’t sexual, merely assessing. In a twisted way, she thought he admired her moxie. “And where do your loyalties lie?”

She hesitated a moment on that question. If she said with Beauregard, he’d know she was lying. If she said the club, she’d come off as a traitor for trying to work at the manor.

It was a trick question, one designed to trip her up.

“With myself,” she finally answered, and it happened to be the truth.

Byron studied her a moment or two before nodding. His blue eyes were a bit less frosty. “Discretion is required with this position.”

“I understand.”

“You’ll be in my home, around my personal effects. You might see or hear things that are…questionable.” His lips twisted.

Like what? Murders?
Charlie nodded, but she wondered what she was agreeing to, exactly.

“And what happens under this roof, stays here. Do you understand?” he asked, nostrils flaring.

Oh, yeah. Charlie was in the big leagues now. She was playing a game with a very dangerous man. And she got the distinct impression if she defied him she might not make it out of this job alive. Maybe not by his hand, but he had a dozen or more guards outside.

“I do.”

“Good. I’d like an update now and then on the club. You hellions overhear things all the time. That kind of information could be useful.”

She raised a brow before he continued.

“You may not be aware, but I have a business relationship with the MC, so you don’t need to worry. My intentions are
friendly
.”

Charlie seriously doubted that, but she had to admire his lying skills. He was damn good at it. For a moment, she wondered which one of them lied more and if they had a lie-off, who would win?

“You want news? Nothing else? And nobody will get hurt, right?” she asked, eyes Bambi-wide.

“Of course, just the headlines.”

She pretended to think it over a minute or two. “Okay, then. I can do that.” She’d talk this over with Axel when she got back to Hades and they’d figure out a plan.

“Good. So, if you can promise this little…arrangement between you and I will remain private, then I’d like to offer you the job.”

 Charlie tried not to show her glee. She’d done it! She’d gotten access to his home. “It’ll be our secret.”

“Congratulations. You’ve got the job.” He extended his hand across the desk and Charlie stared at it for a moment. Her palms started to sweat. She didn’t want to touch the man who’d killed her father.

Unless it was to punch him in the face. But courtesy forced her to shake it.

She placed her suddenly cold hand in his and he shook it, squeezing slightly. Then his hand gripped hers and he pulled her forward, jerking her against the desk. “I reward loyalty very handsomely, Ms. Nash. Remember that.”

“And what about disloyalty?”

His gaze held hers for an uncomfortably long moment. “Pray you never find out.”

Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat.

He released her hand and relaxed back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head. “My housekeeper will be in touch with all the details in a couple of days. And if you’ll excuse me, I have a call. ” Byron pressed a flashing red button on the phone and picked up the receiver. “Mr. Krug, so sorry to keep you waiting. Tell me what I can do for you.”

 Charlie allowed herself a casual glance at the vault before she turned and walked to the door.
Soon.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Axel approached a young woman in a tailored black business suit seated by herself at Hades. Since none of the townsfolk made enough money to afford those kind of fancy threads, he assumed the woman was the club’s lawyer. Jane looked to be in her mid-thirties, pretty, with black hair that fell to her chin, pale skin, and a curvy build from what Axel could make out around the booth. She wore black-framed glasses, which she kept pushing back up her snub-nose.

The Horsemen had placed Jane on retainer in case they had another go-around with the feds. She worked at a high-powered law firm in Dallas. After church the night before, he’d called and left a message with her assistant, and he’d received a terse voicemail from Jane in reply, stating she’d drive over the next morning

 “Mr. Robert Rollins, Jr.?” she asked, glancing up from her iPad.

Axel flinched. “Yes, that’s me.” He’d been named after Joker, and he didn’t like to dwell on it. The less he spoke about, thought of, or acted like his father, the better off he’d be.

“I’m Jane Hunter.” She stared at his outstretched hand, blinking owlishly. “I don’t do that.”

He glanced at the dirt and grease which always seemed to be permanently caked around his fingernails. He self-consciously ran the back of his hand down the length of his t-shirt. “Sorry, it’s a hazard of working with cars. My hands are always rough and dirty.”