Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) by Cynthia Rayne Read Free Book Online Page A

chest.
    For a moment, Charlie thought Axel’s head might explode, popping off his neck like a bottle rocket and hitting the ceiling.
    Charlie had been on a rollercoaster ever since she’d gotten the call about her father. But now, she had a target for all that hate and frustration. She needed to shove down the sorrow and the pain and focus on the job. After she’d gotten it done, there’d be time to mourn Scott.
    Nope, Charlie wouldn’t get mad. She’d get even.
    “Look,” she said, “let’s be logical about this. It doesn’t sound like he’d let either of you get near him.”
    Frost let out a low whistle. “Yeah, I can’t sanction this. I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear it.”
    She glanced at Frost and then back at Axel. “And the popo is cool?”
    Axel shrugged. “Mostly.”
    “No offense,” she said to Frost. “But I hate cops.”
    “And yet I’m offended anyway.”
    “Get off your high horse. You’re a crooked cop. You work with bad guys.” Charlie gestured to Axel. In her book, pretending to be a good guy was worse than being an actual bad one. She didn’t tolerate hypocrites.
    “Excuse me?” Axel snapped. “We’re the good guys.”One of Axel’s bouncing knees shook the table.
    “And I’m not crooked!” Frost put in.
    Charlie gaped at both of them.
    “And this ‘bad guy’ shit is ironic coming from you,” Axel said. “Since you are definitely a bad girl…” His voice was a husky rasp.
    There was a long, awkward pause. Charlie could feel herself flushing.
    Frost cleared his throat.
    Axel sighed. “I didn’t mean that to sound so…”
    “Sexual?” Frost offered.
    “Shut the fuck up,” Axel growled.
    “Yeah, what he said,” Charlie added. But the image of letting her bad girl side out to play with Axel sent a ripple of awareness through her body.
    Clearing her throat, she shook it off. Now isn’t the time.
    Charlie studied the blond cop a moment. “Okay then. If Beauregard killed Scott, I’m gonna find some evidence and then I want to steal everything he owns. Lock, stock, and without even a smoking barrel.”
    Axel gawked at her as though she’d said she wanted to steal the crown jewels or something, which she’d always wanted to do.  She look fantastic in a tiara.
     “You don’t have any fucking idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”
     “I heard the mafia part.” She glanced from Axel to Frost, and the cop wore the same horrified expression.
     “Don’t look at me for help. I’m with Axel on this one.” Frost held up his hands.
    Normally, Charlie never got personal. Stealing was strictly about the money. Scott had taught her that being emotional about a job would slow her down. But to punish this bastard, she would break all her rules, and take him for everything she could get her hands on in the process. Hopefully, she’d find something incriminating in his vault. She might not believe in killing, but she’d still destroy his life.  
    Charlie wouldn’t feel a bit bad about it, either. After all, he’d taken her childhood away. She’d been forced to fend for herself. Sixteen with no home, no school, and no parents. Just a set of wheels and her wits. Scott had been her home. No matter where they lived, as long as they were together, she had someplace safe and familiar she could count on.
    And Beauregard had taken it from her.
    Charlie wasn’t about to let fear stop her. “I can steal from anyone.”
    “Even the Dixie Mafia?” Axel countered.
    Maybe it was the steady diet of movies and television, but she’d always assumed mafia guys were Old World, Italian or Russian. Like The Sopranos or The Godfather or those disturbing Russian mafia pervert-of-the-week types on Law and Order: SVU . Sure, it was a stereotype, but hearing about a Southern one was news to her.
    “That’s a real thing? You didn’t make it up?”
    “Believe me. It’s real,” Axel said dryly. “They’re Bubbas, not babushkas , but they’re just as deadly as the Russian