Axel was alarmed by her statement, too. He knew about the Valentine case, and it seemed pretty cut-and-dry. He’d heard of women falling for men behind bars, writing them love letters while the dickheads waited on death row, but this was ridiculous. Jane was a criminal defense attorney; she shouldn’t be buying this guy’s line of bullshit, even if it was her job to defend him.
“Tell me this asshole hasn’t been giving you the innocent song and dance,” Axel said.
Jane didn’t comment, but her cheeks bloomed with color.
In Axel’s estimation, people who ended up in jail deserved to be there, especially his father. Axel had never been sympathetic toward Joker and his particular brand of outlaw lifestyle. His father had nearly taken their entire family down with him as he pursued his own selfish desires. Axel was still dealing with the fallout from Joker’s poor decisions.
“Someone doesn’t get accused of that many murders without being guilty or stupid. Probably both,” Beauregard said, echoing Axel’s thoughts.
Who knew they had something in common?
“You would both be amazed how many innocent people have been executed,” she said. “Besides, I have a purely professional relationship with Mr. Valentine. Forming an attachment to a client would be unethical.”
“They say he’s a monster,” Beauregard said softly. “He stalks women for weeks, getting to know their habits, their routines. Then he kidnaps, rapes, and tortures them for days, before he ultimately kills them.”
“I’d say monsters come in many shapes and sizes, Mr. Beauregard.” She raked her eyes over him, her expression dismissive.
“Are you callin’ me a monster?”
Axel held his breath.
Jane’s lips pressed together and then she closed her eyes a moment, seeming to center herself. When she opened them again, she glanced at Axel. “Am I being rude?”
Axel glared at Beauregard. “I’d say you’re justified, given the circumstances.”
But evidently, she’d remembered the potential benefit of bringing in a wealthy new client to her law firm. “I apologize, Mr. Beauregard. And as to your earlier question, I won’t be able to take your case, but I’m sure one of my colleagues would be happy to assist you in any legal matter.”
Beauregard’s eyes dropped to her mouth. “I appreciate that, Ms. Hunter, but I’m only interested in you.”
Axel had reached his limit. “The lady has made it clear she’s not interested in you.”
But Beauregard put up a shushing hand. “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” He turned back to Jane. “Do you have a business card?”
“Yes.” She answered the question but didn’t elaborate or offer him one.
Beauregard chuckled. “Tell you what, we’ll make a little trade.” He produced one from his coat pocket then winked at her. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”
Axel’s stomach churned. Fuck, he couldn’t take any more of this. He jumped to his feet, making their coffee cups clatter. “That’s enough.”
Beauregard cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll deal with you a minute.”
“No, it’s fine,” Jane said to Axel.
Beauregard handed over the card and Jane took it gingerly from him. She placed it in a slim, silver case she withdrew from her briefcase before handing him one of her own. “You can find my firm’s number on the back. Allow me to be clear, I can’t take you on as a client.”
“We’ll see about that, Miss Hunter,” he said, flicking the card with his thumbnail. Beauregard acted like she’d handed him a hundred dollar bill or something. “It’s Miss Hunter, right?”
Axel sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have a reason for being here, other than sexual harassment?”
“I’m merely being personable.” He winked at Jane.
She frowned, as if she didn’t know what to make of the gesture.
Beauregard shook his head and finally looked at Axel. “I have a number for you. Got a call this morning.” Beauregard pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to him. “You’ll need to make nice with the gentleman who answers.”
Axel snatched it from his hand. “You could’ve texted that to me.”
Byron smiled. “Yes, but then I would’ve missed the chance to come by your charming establishment.” He glanced around the diner, a grimace forming. “Such as it is.”
Axel shoved the number in the pocket of his jacket. He wasn’t fooled for a minute. Beauregard wanted the opportunity to remind the club of his power.
“But I do have some other matters to attend to.” He stood up and nodded to the lady lawyer. “Pleasure meeting you.”
“It’s been…interesting,” she said.
Beauregard shook his head. “Damn, you keep a man in line, don’t you?”
Jane didn’t reply.
Beauregard shook his head then pointed to Axel’s pocket, where he’d tucked the paper. “Call me if you have any questions.”
“Yeah, I know how to use a phone.”
“Good. So answer whenever I call.” With a chuckle, Beauregard strutted out of the diner. As soon as the door shut behind him, the tension in the air dissipated, almost like everyone heaved a collective sigh.
Jane leaned back in her seat and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I hate that man.”
“Get in line,” Axel said.
“Getting in deeper with him is a stupid move. He’s going to either get you killed or sent away for life.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Axel was about to live down to the family name.
***
After Axel finished his last will and testament, he met up with Coyote at Inferno. They sat on either side of Coyote’s desk, and Axel smiled as he looked around. It’d been a while since he’d been to the bat cave and he noticed Yo’s collection had gotten even bigger. The shelves were full of comic books in sleeves, along with a collection of action figures. Next to the desk, he’d added an R2-D2 trashcan.
Coyote licked his lips. “You want me to call them?” He stared at the slip of paper Beauregard had given Axel as though it might grow teeth and bite him. And in a way, Axel bet Coyote was right.
“You said it yourself, brother, I don’t speak the language. High school Spanish was a long time ago and I only learned how to ask where the fucking bathroom was, anyway. I doubt that’ll be helpful in this here conversation. After we’re done with the call, I want you to get started on some fake passports. We’ll need them to get over the border.”
Coyote was a whiz when it came to making fake IDs.
“Okay.” Yo took a deep breath. “Let’s do this.” He called the number on the slip of paper and spoke Spanish to whomever answered.
Axel listened and waited, gripping the arms of his chair. He wished he hadn’t had coffee earlier, since it burned in his stomach like acid. His brain was buzzing, trying to anticipate all the fallout from this move. The drug cartels made the Dixie Mafia look like choir boys.
As Coyote spoke, Axel observed him. Sweat had beaded on his forehead, and he kept swallowing hard between responses. When he finally hung up, his hands shook a bit as he placed the phone in its cradle.
“What’s going on?” Axel asked.
He took a breath. “They didn’t sound too happy about Beauregard changing, er, shipping companies,” he quipped. “They said they’ll contact us soon, after they do a little research on us.”
“What kind of research?”
“My guess is they’re gonna test us. Maybe dig up any skeletons so they got some leverage.” He shrugged. “Not sure, exactly, but Cartel Guy said he’d call back. They won’t give us any instructions until it's time to go. And we’re leaving on their timetable.”
Axel leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. He might be the president of the Four Horsemen, but he felt fucking powerless. “Meanwhile, we get to sit around with our thumbs up our asses waitin’ for something happen?” He shook his head. “No fucking way. We gotta get out ahead of this. I want you to loo
k into the Tres Erre. I want to know what we’re walkin’ into. I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning.”
Coyote wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Will do, boss.”
Axel glanced at his brother. “Yo, you sure you’re up for this?”
Coyote flinched.
“What is it?” He leaned forward.
He tucked a long black strand of hair behind one ear. “That question right there? It’s the reason I need to do this. I’m like…the nerf herder of the MC. Y’all assume I’m helpless.”
For once, Axel understood his reference. He’d loved Star Wars as a kid. In a galaxy far, far away, nerf herders were seen as second-class citizens, not brave or adventurous. They guarded their herd and kept to themselves, like intergalactic worker bees. “I know you aren’t helpless, but fighting isn’t your thing.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I need to make it my thing. I don’t want to be the weak link, brother.”
“No one said you were.” Axel wished he’d spent less of his life getting into scrapes. “And no one said fighting makes you better or braver.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Yo began typing away on the keyboard in front of him.
Axel started to say something then shut his mouth and headed for his bike. This wasn’t the time to talk it out. They had to focus on the cartel. He had an awful feeling no matter what Coyote found, it wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Ten
That evening, Charlie had dinner with Axel. They were supposed to be talking about Beauregard and the plan. It wasn’t a date. But it felt date-ish.
After they slid into a booth at Hades, he stared at her plate she’d filled it with roadkill. “What in God’s name did you do to that hot dog?”
Voodoo had made a hot dog bar along one wall with any condiment you could want.
“It’s a Chicago-style dog. My dad used to make these,” Charlie said defensively. She’d loaded hers with pickle spears, relish, yellow mustard, and onions. Voo even had poppy seed buns for them. She took a bite, and it was a little taste of home. “One thing you can always count on is a twenty-four-hour convenience store. They roast wieners all day and night, and you can usually grab most of the fixings there, too.”
“You ate at convenience stores?”
“Yes, but don’t go all judgmental.” They’d kept odd hours, and we spent a lot of time on the road. There wasn’t a lot of time for home-cooked meals. “My dad did the best he could.”
“He taught you to be a thief.” Axel took a bite of his dog.
“Yeah, and your parents taught you to be an outlaw biker.” She shrugged. “I don’t see a big difference. Parents do the best they can. They’re not perfect. No one is. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“You think he was a good father? Even if he broke the law?” he asked.
Charlie didn’t know why, but the question really seemed to matter to him. “No, I think he was a great father. He was always there for me. I always had a roof over my head, food in my belly. And he made school a priority, but when he…” She trailed off.
“Died,” Axel supplied softly.
She swallowed the bite of food before setting the dog down, appetite gone. “Yeah, when he died, that went by the wayside. I never graduated high school, but he would’ve wanted me to.”
“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”
“I’d like to get my GED.” Even if she never intended to use it. The piece of paper would mean something.
“I wanted to go to college, but I never did,” he confessed.
“You still could.”
“I still think about it. I’d like to take a few business management classes. Lord knows I could use them,” Axel said, with a shrug. “If you’d finished school, do you think you’d still be a thief?” he asked.
“Of course. It’s what I’m good at.”
Voodoo walked over to the table. He wore a pair of distressed leather pants and a black muscle shirt with a fleur de lis. The man was a clothes horse in comparison to Axel, who wore a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt.
“How’s the dog, bebette?” Voo asked.
She picked up her Chicago creation again. “Delicious. And stop calling me a bug.”
He smirked, but she could read some humor in his eyes. Good. Maybe he didn’t hate her anymore. It would make life a lot easier if her temporary landlord wasn’t actively plotting against her.
“Et vous?” he asked, turning to Axel.
“Good as always, brother.”
He nodded. “Bien. I’ll have Wendy check on you.” Voo waved a hand and a young attractive waitress came to the table. As Voo left, Charlie thought she heard him whisper, “Check the silverware after she leaves.”
Charlie rolled her eyes.
Wendy the waitress was model-thin with black, spiky hair and forest-green eyes. She wore a pair of ripped jeans and a white halter top, along with a pair of leather cowboy boots.
Charlie brushed a hand through her hair and stood up straighter in her seat. While she considered herself to be feminine, she didn’t put her sexuality out there on Main Street like this chick did. Then, she put two and two together. Beauregard had asked her if she was a hellion. Wendy must be a hellion and Charlie was retroactively insulted by Byron’s assumption.
“Can I get you anything else, Mr. President?” she asked.
Mr. President? Charlie barely resisted the urge to make a barfing sound, but she answered for Axel. “No, he’s good. That’ll be all, thanks.”
Axel glanced at Charlie with raised brows, evidently her tone had been off. Then he turned to the waitress. “I’m good. Thanks, uh…”
“Wendy,” she supplied. “Let me know if you need…anything.” Then she turned on her heel and walked away. As she passed by tables, bikers checked out her ass.
Axel cleared his throat. “I guess we should talk about your meeting with Beauregard. You said something about him asking you to spy on us, huh?”
Charlie could feel herself turning red. “Yeah. And I lied to him.”
“You lied?” he said, a teasing light in his eyes. “I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you.”
She ignored the jibe. “I implied you and I were involved,” she explained. “I needed to give him a reason to hire me and he seemed really interested when I said I worked at Perdition.”
Suddenly, his face turned into a stone mask. “We aren’t. Involved.”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t get amnesia today. I remember the talk we had.” Charlie wondered where this had all gone wrong. They’d been having a nice time, and now he looked a bit sick.
He nodded, but his jaw was tight. “We’ll use that to our advantage. You’ll feed him false information.”
“That’s what I planned on doing.”
Axel slid out of the booth and wrapped his remaining hot dog in a napkin. “I’d better take this one to go. I have a lot to do today. Keep me posted on the job.”
“Um, okay.”
And then she was looking at his back as he hurried out the door.
“Was it something I said?” she muttered.
***
The next morning, Axel headed over to Inferno before he went to work. He past Steele who grunted in acknowledgement, but Axel kept on walking. When he reached the rear office, he found Coyote seated at his desk.
And the place was a wreck.
Yo snored, his head pillowed on his arms. There were a couple of empty disposable coffee cups rolling around on the floor, along with an open bag of Cheetos that left a trail of neon orange dust across the desk. A half-empty two-liter of Mountain Dew sat next to his computer tower.
Had he been there all night?
“Yo,” Axel said. “Get up, man. I need to know what you found out.” Although, he seriously doubted it was good news.
Coyote didn’t even stir.
“Yo!” he shouted, slamming a hand on the desk.
Coyote yelped, shooting to his feet, hand fumbling for his pistol, but stopped when he mad
e eye contact with Axel. “What the fuck, man?”
“Mornin’, sunshine,” Axel drawled.
He shook his head, then stared down at his orange-coated fingertips, lip curling. He grabbed a tissue from a box that read Game of Thrones and wiped his hands. “Hey, Axel. Sorry.” He gave a jaw-cracking yawn and sat back down.
Axel grabbed the seat across from him. This time, he’d forgone the coffee, but it hadn’t stopped a pool of acid from forming in his stomach anyway. “No problem. What kept you up all night?”
“You aren’t gonna believe what I found out about Tres Erre.” He shuddered. “I mean, shit, I wish I didn’t know. I need to scrape it out of my brain or something.”
Axel braced himself for just about anything.
Coyote began tapping on his keyboard, pulling up the info. “Well, first off, the cartel is situated across the border from Laredo. They have a reputation for being ruthless, like you couldn’t guess that,” he said, as he took a swig of warm Mountain Dew. “Their crimes reach across the border into Texas—kidnappings, unsolved murders, and recruiting citizens to haul their drugs across the border.”
Axel expected that.
“After the feds cracked down on prescription painkiller abuse in the United States, heroin is now the major cash crop in Mexico. And Tres Erre supplies as much as half the American market. These guys are total BAMFs, in Tumblr speak.”
“Coyote,” Axel started tiredly. “I don’t even know what the fuck Tumblr is, let alone a BAMF.” Other than the computer systems he used to run the business and do diagnostics on vehicles, he didn’t touch the damn things.
“Right, my bad,” Coyote said with a nod. “These dicks are badass motherfuckers,” he translated. “Only, I ain’t usin’ it in an ironic sense.”
Axel stroked his jaw, the hair crisp beneath his fingertips. He needed some sleep, a shave, a shower. Maybe a shot or two of somethin’ hard. “Okay, lay it on me. What the hell are we dealing with?”
Coyote sighed. “There’s a lot. I ain’t even right real sure where to begin, but let’s go with the social media thing for a minute. They post pictures of themselves with the people they’ve killed.”
Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) Page 11