And if they didn’t take the delivery home, they’d have the mafia crawling up their asses. Axel thought it through, trying to come up with the most tactful statement he could find. “Beauregard chose to end his association with the Raptors. He’s working with us instead.”
“Why?”
It took all of Axel’s patience not to be flippant. “He felt we were better suited to a partnership.”
She frowned. “I don’t see why. I’ve done my homework on you. The Horsemen haven’t moved drugs for a very long time. How do I know you won’t lose my product at the border?”
Product she’d called it. Like they were hauling coffee or chocolate. “Because we aren’t fools,” Axel said. “And we’d be the ones doin’ time if we did.”
“You wouldn’t sell me out to the authorities to lessen your sentences?”
“We don’t rat,” Axel said. “Ever. Horsemen shut our mouths, keep our heads down, and do our time.”
“Do you know what happens to people who cost me money?” Bruja approached him slowly, until she stood over him.
Steele tensed beside him. Justice got to his feet but Axel held a hand up, hoping they wouldn’t start any shit.
“Yeah, I have a good idea,” he said, thinking back to the Jenga-ed pile of torsos.
“I don’t think you do. My ex, Mateo, and I were engaged. Did you know that? Childhood sweethearts. I was supposed to marry him next spring. I was going to be his queen.”
What kind of coldblooded bastard would marry her? Axel couldn’t comprehend it.
“And then, after an unfortunate incident,” she said with a sneer, “he started to change.” She glanced around the room. “He found this religion, started questioning this life. Mateo wanted to give it all up.”
“And you didn’t like that decision.”
Bruja laughed. “I did not. And it was the last one he ever made.” She brought one sharp fingernail to Axel’s throat, idly scraping it along the length of his neck. “One night, he went to bed after having too much to drink. And I waited until he fell asleep,” she said. “And I slit open his throat with a knife.” She locked eyes with Axel. “He choked on his own blood. I loved Mateo.”
Axel didn’t move. “What’s the moral of this story?” She was fucking cold as ice. Bruja had just confessed to murder in front of several witnesses. She must feel like she’s untouchable. She was probably right.
“If I’m willing to kill the man I love for this business, what do you think I’d do to you if you disappointed me?”
“Point taken,” Axel said smoothly. “We’ll get the…shipment…over the border.”
“Why should I believe you?” she asked.
“I gave you my word.” And to Axel and the rest of the Horsemen, that actually meant something.
Bruja laughed. “I see. We’re making a handshake deal, then?” She still stood over him, uncomfortably close.
“Something like that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Axel watched as Justice paced the room like one caged tigers outside. The guards watched his every move, but said nothing.
Bruja held out her hand to Axel, as though she wanted to shake on it.
Axel hesitated for a moment before he took it. He didn’t want to touch her. He felt like he needed a shower from just being in the same room with her, she was so fucking evil. And she was infecting him and the club, too.
They shook hands and then she gripped his tightly, nails breaking the skin. “I know who your mother, Eddie, is. And your brother and his fiancée. Congratulate them tomorrow for me. I know all about your little shop, Seventh Circle. And the pretty little thing who works for you, Dani. Lose my drugs and I’ll kill your family. I’ll kill your friend. Everyone you know. And only then will I kill you.”
Holy fuck. An image of Charlie flashed in his mind.
Coyote warned him this might happen. The cartel either had spies or they’d dug up dirt with Beauregard. Either way, this hit close to home. Part of him wanted to dump the heroin in the nearest river, or turn it over anonymously to the local police. But neither of those would work. He had to deliver the drugs to Cotton Krug as planned.
“Understood,” he said.
“Good,” Bruja said, dropping his hand. “We have an agreement then. I have a border agent who works for me. He can help you, provided you don’t attract any unwanted attention to yourselves.”
“And who’s that?” Axel asked.
“He’ll approach you,” Bruja said. “I’ve made him aware of the shipment.”
Axel stood up, ready to get on his way, when she stepped in his path.
“And there’s one more matter before you go. Beauregard informed me you won’t be taking a cut of the heroin to sell. Why?”
Fuck. Another awkward-as-fuck question to answer. “I’m sure you make a fine…product. But the club doesn’t sell drugs other than weed.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why?”
“It’s not one of the ways we earn.” Circular logic, but he hoped she’d give it up.
Her nostrils flared. “If I hadn’t already promised this delivery to Mr. Krug, I’d send you home. I need distributors in Texas. We’ll revisit this issue next time you come.”
Coyote, Justice, and Steele stared at her. “What do you mean, next time?” Axel asked.
“We have a partnership,” she said pleasantly. “The Raptors couriered for me once a month or so, and you’ll do the same.” She motioned to her guards. “Now, let’s get you on your way.”
***
The brothers drove back to the border in tense silence.
Axel had been laboring under the delusion that this was a one-time deal. But now, he’d be placing his men in danger on a monthly basis. Unfortunately, he couldn’t dwell on that right now.
They had to get across the border first. He’d built the truck to spec. The hidden compartments didn’t stand out. He hoped they’d sail over the border and get home in no time.Then they just had to chuck the drugs in the warehouse he’d rented with a dummy LLC, break them up into smaller amounts and take them to Dallas. After he went to Ryker’s wedding, of course.
No problem.
When they finally reached the station, there were several lanes of traffic on either side of the border for miles. None of the vehicles were moving. Up ahead, Axel could see flashing lights.
Some people had already gotten out of their vehicles and stood on the side of the road. A few family types with coolers and little children. Some business men and women. They must work in one country and commute to the other.
“Dammit. I want this over. We’re gonna be here forever,” Coyote said, slamming a hand against the steering well.
Axel undid his seatbelt and opened the door. “Me, too, but…surprise, we’re gonna have to do this the hard way. We’d better blend in, brothers.” The trick to this thing was to appear normal. They couldn’t give the agents any reason to suspect they were up to something.
An hour later, they still leaned against the moving van. They hadn’t even traveled an inch further down their row. In front of their van were a couple of old folks in a sedan. Axel approached the passenger window and the woman nodded to him.
“What’s the hold-up?” he said, jerking a thumb at the commotion ahead. Axel hoped he came off as annoyed rather than alarmed.
“Looks like random searches to me,” the old man replied. He pointed to a brown smudge in the distance. “I think those are drug-sniffing dogs up ahead.”
Oh, fuck.
And they couldn’t back out now, double-back and call Ace for an airlift. A couple dozen cars blocked them in from behind, and if they tried to go, they’d raise suspicion anyway. The agents would radio for air support to track them down.
But the longer they sat there, the greater the chances were of being caught. It might be easy to get past a stupid or lazy agent, but the dogs could smell the heroin. All it would take was one good sniff, and they’d spent the rest of their very short lives in jail.
***
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After spending the morning polishing Beauregard’s outrageously expensive shoes, Charlie snuck into his office once more. At least brushing his footwear had helped her work out some of her anger towards Axel.
Pawing each other and then pretending they were just partners in crime didn’t seem to be working. Charlie hoped he’d pull it together and finally make a move on her.
Coyote had texted her this morning and said he’d looped some video for Beauregard’s study and set it to play, so she could feel free to try the combinations any time she pleased.
Charlie kissed her St. Nicholas necklace and then she pulled out a list of random numbers she’d made and began entering them. Every time, it beeped, flashing Combination Failed. After she made it through ten tries, she folded the note and placed it in her pocket.
Charlie heard a throat clear right behind her.
Beauregard.
“Once again, I find you loiterin’ by my vault. I’m startin’ to get suspicious.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Mr. Lancing, if you could pull over to the side, please?” the border guard asked.
They’d been in line for nearly three hours and the drug dogs had made their way down the line of cars, doing random searches. The border agents gave some vehicles green lights, meaning they could drive through without being inspected. And others received red, which meant they got closer scrutiny. They had to answer questions and permit a vehicle inspection.
They were getting closer and closer…only twenty yards away now.
Axel glanced over the guard as he recognized his own fake name, the guard motioned them with his hand. The man was in his fifties with graying hair at the temples. This must be the agent Bruja had made an arrangement with.
Coyote started up the van they pulled into his line. The brothers withdrew their fake passports, driver’s licenses, their visitor’s visas, and then answered a couple of random questions.
Axel held his breath, waiting.
The agent smirked at them after he handed back their documentation. “Everything looks good, boys. But there is the little matter of a border crossing fee.” And after ponying up a thousand dollars, the agent let them cross.
Axel closed his eyes, collapsing against the seat. Fuck me. We got away with it. This time.
But there was no way he’d put the club or himself through that again. He’d have to confront Beauregard, make him see reason. Or die trying.
***
Charlie decided to give her seduction ploy another go. At this point, it was her only option.
“And again, I’m just making myself pretty.” She pulled a tube of cherry lip-gloss from her pocket. Then rimmed her lips with it and eyed Beauregard.
“I told you I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
“I don’t think you mean it,” Charlie said. Then pouted at him.
“Then come here.” He crooked a finger at her.
Oh, God…
Charlie inched closer, a knot forming in her stomach. I’m doing this to save my life. I’m doing this to save my life. She kept playing the mantra over and over in mind, hoping she’d find the courage to touch the bastard.
Finally, she stood pressed against him. Charlie could feel the heat from his body, smell the rustic aroma of his cologne—a hint of wood smoke, salt, and sage.
Beauregard leaned down and for a terrible moment, she thought he’d put his lips on hers, but instead he breathed against her mouth, “Remember what I said about rewarding loyalty?”
Charlie swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”
“You’re about to find out what happens when you’re disloyal.”
Craaaaappppp.
Charlie tried to make a run for it, but he grasped her arm and pushed her down into one of the chairs. “I can explain.”
“No explanations are necessary. You’re tryin’ to rob me,” he drawled, pulling a pistol from the top drawer of his desk. He cocked the gun, then pointed it at her head.
Her mind spun, searching for some plausible explanation. “I—”
“Save it. I don’t want to hear any lies. You’re gonna sit there, and you and I are gonna have a nice, long, honest conversation. I expect that’ll be a novelty for you.”
“But—”
“Not another word.”
Still pointing the pistol at her, Beauregard crossed to the bar and poured clear liquid into two cut glass tumbler. Then he sat down across from her and handed her a glass.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Moonshine. Drink up. It’s my granddaddy’s recipe.” He clinked his drink against hers and then picked up his gun.
Charlie stared at the liquid doubtfully.
“Cowards use poison,” he said with a smirk. “I do my killin’ with a gun,” he said, raising it.
Yeah, that’s not comforting. Charlie hesitantly took a sip and set it down. She preferred Eddie’s brew.
“Now, as a rule, I don’t kill women. That’s a line I have not crossed. Convince me why I shouldn’t make an exception for you.”
Charlie raised her chin. “I’m not going to beg you for my life.” He could go fuck himself if that’s what he wanted. She’d never give him the satisfaction of pleading with him for anything.
He toasted her with his glass. “Congratulations on having a spine. I admire that in a woman. It’s so rare.”
“I don’t care what you admire. Are you going to kill me?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Beauregard said, raising a brow. “Tell me. Did Axel put you up to this?”
Charlie wouldn’t implicate the MC. The Horsemen had been kind to her. Just because she’d been stupid enough to get caught, she wouldn’t drag them down with her.
No, that was an evasion. She wouldn’t implicate Axel. Charlie wouldn’t drag him into this.
Charlie suddenly realized she cared more about saving him than her own skin. That was a first.
“I have my own reasons for robbing you.” She’d sidestepped his question easily.
“Like?”
Before Beauregard killed her, she’d at least hear the bastard admit to his crime. “You killed a man about ten years ago. His name was Scott Nash, and he was a thief.”
For a moment, he stared at her, then ran a palm down his face. And Charlie could’ve sworn she saw something like shame flicker in his eyes. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye. He’d also seemed genuinely upset when Cotton had tried to choke her. While she didn’t what to make of it, she certainly didn’t forgive him.
“I remember him,” Byron said. “He was a talented man, methodical. He planned a damn good bank job.”
Charlie didn’t say anything, but her chest tightened.
“Let me guess. You’re his daughter, right?”
“Yes.” She raised her chin and met his gaze.
“Damn.” He took a long drink of moonshine. “I guess my chickens have finally come home to roost. Tell me, did you come here to kill me?”
She laughed bitterly. “I’m not a killer. I was just after your money.” And your secrets.
“Why?” he asked, tilting his head to study her as though he truly didn’t understand. “By all rights, you should want vengeance.”
Charlie realized he didn’t get it. In his world, an eye for an eye was the way things worked. “I’m not you, and I never want to be.”
“Interesting.” He took another sip of moonshine. “I didn’t want to kill your father, you know.”
She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to placate him, or beg, apologize for trying to rob him, or even put up with any of his bullshit. She was as good as dead anyway. Might as well die with dignity. “Oh, please. You’re a hitman. It’s not like you give a damn about the people you murder. You kill for money.”
“I’m a former hitman,” he corrected.
“And that wipes away your stains somehow? You’re saying it wasn’t your fault?”
“We all answer to someone, Ms. Nash.” He sighed, then raised the moonshine to
his lips and drained the glass. “You used your real name?”
“Why not? You didn’t recognize it.”
“I’m not sure if that’s bold or rash,” Beauregard said thoughtfully. “You know, the decision to…terminate your father came from an associate of mine, Mr. Cotton Krug.”
“Cotton?” Her eyes widened. “He ordered you to kill my father?” She’d been in the same room with the two men responsible for murdering her father and she hadn’t known it at the time.
“The very same. Mr. Krug, once upon a time,” he said, as though telling her a very disturbing bedtime story, “used to be an enforcer for the Dixie Mafia. Until he became an underboss.”
Charlie rubbed her throat absently. “He choked his victims to death.”
“Yes, he strangled people. His nickname was Hush.” Beauregard sneered. “He specialized in…shall we say….handling my organization’s enemies, those folks who’d turned rat,” Beauregard explained. “And he practiced his craft in his free time, too. Mr. Krug had a thing for ladies of the night. Before he got too old to squeeze properly.” He mimed the action and Charlie shivered. “Arthritis, you know.” His lips twisted. “And between you and me? He gets off on it. Sexually.”
Charlie shuddered, feeling like she might vomit. “Why did he order you to murder my father?”
Beauregard continued. “Before that, he was a no-account, two-bit hustler who didn’t have a pot to piss in. He grew up dirt-poor and that made him greedy, stingy. You see, he didn’t want to split the take. Mr. Krug has a habit of…eliminating contractors he hires. It’s no way to do business. Those sorts of relationships should be cultivated. You never know when you’ll need someone’s skill set in the future.”
Charlie didn’t like the speculative way he looked at her when he said that. “And he’s your boss?” she asked.
“He’s an underboss with my organization. And yes, a might higher on the food chain than myself.”
“So, you gunned my father down on that bastard’s orders,” she said bitterly.
“Well, at least I didn’t choke him.” Beauregard took another sip then licked his wet lips.
Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) Page 21