Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  He didn’t turn around, refused to look at her. “I’m done with her. I won’t be driving by her place anymore, and she won’t be stopping by my shop.”

  “Why?” Charlie asked.

  Nancy wasn’t in the picture anymore. And she needed to hear him say it. Axel had feelings for her, too. She could feel it, sense it, even if he hadn’t admitted to anything.

  “I…I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Big surprise,” she said bitterly.

  Charlie was so frustrated. She wasn’t getting anywhere with the Beauregard’s safe or with Axel. Nothing was going the way it should. She sat in the chair he’d vacated,kicked one foot free of her panties, leaned back, and splayed her thighs. She’d been on edge for weeks. Tentatively, she stroked the lips of her sex and moaned.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

  “I think it’s very easy to figure out.” Charlie shut her eyes and touched herself where she wanted him to touch her. Too needy to give a damn what he thought. She pretended it was his fingers, not her own.

  “Charlie,” he said. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear his footfalls, feel him coming to stand in front of her.

  “If you won’t stop being a clit tease, I’ll take care of myself.”

  Axel moaned.

  Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this. It was outrageous, even for her, but he’d made her desperate. She could only take so much teasing. It was time to show him what he was passing up.

  She rubbed just her fingertips over the lips, teasing before plunging them inside.

  He gasped. “Yes, like that.”

  Charlie forced her eyes open. His tongue rimmed his lips. And she was picturing that tongue delving between her thighs, licking the lips of her sex. She wondered if he’d come closer and participate or maybe run for the door.

  Instead, he stood still, seemingly mesmerized. Axel seemed to be conflicted.

  Charlie could see the hardened ridge of his cock beneath the denim, straining to get loose. It distended the fabric, poking out, and she could make out the spherical shape of his balls below. Axel rubbed himself through the denim.

  Her fingers halted.

  “Don’t stop. I want…”

  “Yes? What do you want, Axel? Do you even know?” she asked. And she didn’t mean sexually.

  He licked his lips. “Right now, I….want….I want to see you come.”

  And then, Charlie lost herself to the sensation.

  She closed her eyes, splayed her legs even wider, and gave into desire. She grazed her clitoris. It felt tight and hard beneath her fingertip.

  “No,” Axel said hoarsely. “Look at me.”

  Charlie forced her eyes open once more and met his gaze. It made the moment more intimate. He looked into her eyes, rather than at her sex, which was on full display. He evidently wanted to see the pleasure on her face. She rubbed herself lightly at first and then with a firmer touch. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip.

  She pictured riding him. That’s what she wanted. She wanted to be on top of him, legs splayed on either side of his. Charlie imagined what his cock would feel like inside her. He looked thick and long. She wanted to sink her fingernails into his shoulders and ride his cock. She needed him beneath her, hips straining upwards, driving into her as she plunged up and down on his shaft. That image sent her over the edge and she cried out as the orgasm rippled through her.

  The next thing she knew, Axel hit his knees in front of her and palmed himself though the denim.

  “Stroke yourself,” she moaned. “I need to see you.”

  “Let me taste you,” he said, reaching for her hand. Her fingertips still glistened with her juices and he sucked one finger into his mouth, moaning around it as he tasted her.

  He released his cock. It was long and thick with a nest of dark hair at the base. The veins bulged and the tip was flushed a reddish-purple. He wrapped a hand around himself stroking fiercely, his mouth still fastened on her fingers.

  Axel came with a harsh groan, spraying his chest and stomach.

  Afterwards, Charlie stood up and put herself to rights. She stood there a second staring down at him. “I won’t be hitting on you, Axel. So, make up your mind. Do you want me? Or not?”

  If Axel wanted to grow a pair, he knew where to find her.

  ***

  Axel staggered in his front door an hour later.

  After he’d come, Charlie had left him floundering on the floor, feeling like a fool. She was pissed, and she should be. He’d been schizophrenic with her–pulling her in only to push her away again. She deserved better.

  Charlie was strong enough to live as an outlaw. And she had a good heart, but he’d royally fucked up with her. They needed to sit down and talk all of this out. He wanted more than a fling with her. He wondered if he and Charlie had a shot at something real. Axel promised himself that the next morning, he’d sort all of it out. He’d go to her hotel room and ask her on a real date where they’d have a real conversation.

  She was worth risking the possible pain. He knew that now.

  Hopefully, before Ryker’s wedding. Elizabeth had informed him that Charlie would be his plus one. He didn’t want to have an argument with her in the middle of his brothers and family. Lord knows they’d enjoy the fresh gossip too much.

  Axel climbed into bed, resolved to work on the problem tomorrow. He checked the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly five a.m. He should get a couple of hours of shuteye before he had to be at Seventh Circle.

  And then he got a text from Coyote. They’d just been given the go-ahead by the cartel.

  So much for sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Axel and his brothers headed for Laredo at first light.

  Coyote drove the van and Steele rode shotgun. Literally, in this case. Steele had placed one on the floorboard for protection. The rest of the crew flanked the van on motorcycles.

  Normally, Axel loved long rides. He lived for the call of the open road, nothing but miles of asphalt around him, but this particular trip held no joy. It felt like they were headed to a funeral.

  Maybe they were.

  Axel couldn’t help but think of Charlie as he rode. If he got through this day without ending up in a grave or a jail cell, he’d make it right with her. He just hoped he could talk her into staying in Hell long enough to give them a real shot.

  They hardly stopped at all. Typically they stretched their legs now and then on these trips. Stop for a hot meal, maybe a beer. Now they ate Voo’s homemade beef jerky on infrequent restroom breaks. He didn’t have an appetite, but he needed the energy.

  Six hundred miles later, they arrived in Laredo.

  They checked into a no-tell motel on the outskirts of town. One that accepted cash instead of credit cards. Axel, Steele, Justice, and Coyote piled into the truck early the next morning while Ace stayed behind with the motorcycles. He’d been ordered to keep an eye out for feds or cartel lookouts. Axel hoped to God they wouldn’t need Ace to fly them stateside.

  The trip into Mexico the next morning was uneventful. They’d answered a couple of questions at the border, flashed fake IDs, and slid right across in the van. But Axel was more concerned about the trip back.

  An hour after crossing the border, they reached the edge of what could only be described as a narco-village. It was ungodly humid, and the ancient sputtering air conditioning in the van couldn’t keep up with it. So, they rolled down the windows and a godawful stench nearly took their breath away. As they slowly drove into town, the source of the smell came into view. Axel gaped at a pile of headless and limbless torsos. They were stacked on the corner of a street, like so much meat. The skin on the corpses was bloated, crawling with flies. Crusty-looking dried blood covered them.

  Axel glanced at the makeshift cardboard sign situated by the carnage. While he couldn’t read Spanish, Axel was betting it said something to the effect of: fuck with us and we’ll carve your asses up. Just like this.r />
  “I guess we ain’t in Kansas anymore,” Coyote said as he drove on.

  Axel had to hand it to Coyote, he was holding it together.

  “And we sure as shit ain’t in Texas,” Steele said from the backseat. “These asshats are giving terrorists a run for their money on the sadistic bastard scale.”

  Justice didn’t comment, but Axel could see a muscle in his jaw working. Axel laid his pistol on his lap, ready just in case.

  Coyote continued driving, after he fastened his eyes on the road.

  None of them looked back.

  They drove further into the town, along cobblestone streets which made the van jerk and jitter. On either side of the road, there were colorful adobe brick houses. Some of them had small gardens. Other than the macabre display at the entrance, everything else seemed normal…which was eerie. He’d expected panic in the streets, an uproar from the locals. But along the sidewalks, people walked along with children and bags of groceries. Maybe the cartel killed so often, the people had grown numb to it. Or they didn’t have much a choice, but to deal with it.

  Past the village were massive poppy fields as far as the eye could see. The lilac flowers were tall with large green buds at the tips.

  “Poison poppies,” Coyote said, his tone humorless. The fields were filled with children, who had wicker baskets on their backs. As Axel watched, they slit the poppy buds open. Axel guessed it was part of the harvesting process.

  As they drove on the edge of the fields, they were eventually stopped by four men dressed in fatigues toting machine guns. Axel glanced down at his pistol. Figuratively speaking, he might as well have brought a knife to a gun fight.

  They tensed as the gunners approached the vehicle. The largest stuck his firearm in Coyote’s face and shouted something in Spanish.

  Coyote didn’t flinch. The rest of them put their hands up, so the gunners wouldn’t shoot them.

  The cartel soldier spoke in rapid-fire Spanish with Coyote and after a couple tense seconds, Coyote turned to them. “They want our guns.”

  “No fucking way,” Steele growled. “I ain’t goin’ in there without a piece.”

  “No choice, brother,” Coyote said. “Unless you’d like to be a decorative torso.”

  “This could be a trap,” Justice said.

  “Do it,” Axel ordered. He turned to a guard and said, “I’m reaching for my weapon, don’t shoot.”

  Coyote translated for him.

  They handed their weapons out the window. Slowly. Axel still had a piece tucked into the glove compartment, but he’d be damned if he said something.

  Again, the largest one spoke to Coyote, who then translated. “He said we gotta drive to the end of the fields and stop at the guard house at the base of the hill.”

  The goons moved away from the vehicle and they drove on.

  When they reached the end of the fields, they found a guard hut at the base of a small mountain. Two more soldiers, also packing machine guns, stood on either side of the vehicle. They spoke into walkie talkies.

  One soldier with a unibrow shouted something at Coyote.

  “They said we’re cleared to go up to big house.” Coyote drove up the hill.

  Axel’s jaw about hit the ground. The cartel had a motherfucking mansion situated on a misty mountain. And all of this was bought and paid for by the sale of drugs. They ascended a steep graveled road, passing a swimming pool, and then wrought-iron bars which surrounded a personal zoo housing two panthers, a white tiger, and a lion.

  “Lions and tigers and bears, oh my,” Steele quipped. He didn’t seem perturbed by any of this. Neither did Justice. But both of them had seen action in Afghanistan. This was just another day.

  What the fuck drug dealers did with exotic pets, Axel didn’t want to know, but he kept imagining them being fed a steady diet of human arms.

  Don’t go there.

  Sweat broke out on the back of his neck, and he swiped it away with a handkerchief. The main house came into view and it had an Eastern feel to it. Axel couldn’t swear to it, but he’d say the mansion had been hand-carved out of teak wood. As they approached, he could make out more detail. Little flourishes had been engraved into the wooden eaves, like lotus flowers and elephants. Even some gods and goddesses. Axel didn’t know much about Hinduism, but it seemed to be a peaceable religion, focused on not harming others.

  Why would a drug kingpin act like a yoga-loving pacifist?

  They pulled up in front of the main house and more gun-toting thugs greeted them, pulling them out of the van and pressing them flat against the vehicle. They all got patted down. Axel didn’t get a chance to go for the glove compartment pistol before they were ushered inside at gunpoint. They entered a living room with an enormous Buddha statue in the center. The guards stood at both doorways, their guns raised and ready to fire, if need be.

  Axel examined the room to distract himself. He wished this was all over with and he was headed back to Hell. The mural on the walls depicted elephants and what Axel assumed were gods and goddesses in bright colors, just like the outside. Several red and orange chaise lounges filled the room. A coffee table held burning candles, as well as a cast-iron pot filled with burning incense.

  A long table set against one wall was stacked with cash in several rows. All in one hundred dollar bills, from what Axel could see. It was a guess, but he bet there was a cool million sitting out there in the open.

  Like it was nothing.

  A woman spoke in Spanish, and they all turned to her as she entered the room. What do you know? It’s the wicked witch.

  She sat down on a chaise and smiled at them. Beauregard had called her Bruja, and it seemed like a fitting nickname. Bruja was beautiful with long, dark brown hair, bronzed skin, big breasts, and a small waist. Axel thought she looked more like a model than the head of a cartel.

  But her beauty left him cold. She wore a pair of jeans and a blouse, with a pair of heels. Casual, but still dressy. Clearly, she didn’t pretend to be a businesswoman, like Beauregard. She pointed to the chaises and said something in Spanish. But Axel understood what she wanted anyway.

  “Welcome to my home. Sit, gentlemen,” Coyote translated.

  They sat.

  Axel didn’t tell her his name and didn’t ask for her real name in return. The less he knew about her, the better.

  Again, she spoke in Spanish and Coyote translated for her. “You are friends of Mr. Beauregard?”

  Axel wouldn’t put it that way, but he nodded. “We’re here for the shipment. If it’s all the same, we’d like to pick it up and go.” He wanted to get the fuck on out of this hellhole.

  “It is being loaded into your vehicle as we speak,” Coyote translated for her. “The guards found your hidden panels and we’re placing the product in the floorboards, so there is no hurry. We have this time to talk. Besides, I would not be so eager to reach the border, if I were you. Crossing it can be…problematic.”

  “Tell her to fuck off, Coyote,” Steele muttered. “We’ll wait outside and play with a one of her pet tigers. It’d be more relaxing company.”

  “You should watch your mouth,” the woman said in perfect English.

  Oh…fuck.

  Axel hadn’t been expecting that. “I apologize for my brother. We’ve had a long trip,” he said quickly, hoping he could head off any trouble.

  Her smile was nasty. “Of course I speak English, since the United States is my best market. It pays to know the language.” She nodded to Coyote. “But I must say your Spanish is very good.”

  Coyote gave her a dead-eyed stare. “Thanks.”

  Then she turned to Steele. “And if I were you, I’d watch my mouth in the future, gringo.”

  Axel tensed.

  Steele was smart enough to keep his trap shot and bob his head in agreement.

  “I will accept your apology now.” She stood up and held out her hand to him, like a queen addressing a subject.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Steele said taking he
r hand in a courtly gesture.

  “You are forgiven,” she said.

  Axel blew out a breath.

  She paced as she spoke. “You are new to this business. I can tell. The drug wars in Mexico are actual wars. Fought with guns and bullets. And blood. And I own the crops, the mountain, the village, the villagers, and about a quarter of Mexico. Give me time, and I’ll drive all of my competition out of business.” She pinned Axel with her gaze. “Underestimating me can be fatal, boys.”

  “I can see that, ma’am,” Axel said. He knew she’d be scary, but he hadn’t counted on her being a psycho.

  “My ex is living proof of that,” she said, and then laughed. “Well, maybe not living, but proof nonetheless.”

  Axel couldn’t help but gape at her. Call him sexist, but he never expected such ruthlessness from a woman.

  Bruja addressed Axel. “We were used to dealing with the Raptors. Why have you taken over these duties?”

  “I think you should take that up with Beauregard.” A surefire way to get caught in the crossfire was to talk shit about one asshole to another. He’d let the two crime bosses duke it out themselves.

  “But I’m asking you.”

  “And I’m politely telling you that I can’t answer the question,” Axel said with as much diplomacy as he could. He didn’t want to end up in a pile of bodies.

  “Do you know what the villagers call me?” she asked, leaning forward to hold a hand over the burning cast iron on the coffee table.

  Axel wasn’t going to bring up her unflattering nickname. “Not a fucking clue. Do you think your men are done loading?” he asked. “I’m anxious to get your shipment to Dallas.”

  She ignored his question. “Bruja. They say I’m a witch. That I have supernatural powers. Do you think I could put a spell on you?” she asked.

  The only power she wielded was fear. “I don’t believe in magic, ma’am.”

  Her lips curved, showing some teeth. “Neither do I, but I do believe in information. It’s the cornerstone of my business. If I’m in the know, I can predict difficulties. You won’t be taking the shipment until I get a few answers.”