Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) Read Online Free

and the diner is a few hundred feet away.” The use of ‘we’ had been deliberate on her part. It created a sense of camaraderie with the mark, making the person feel as if they were friends.
    Justice snorted. “Nice try, sweetheart, but I ain’t leavin’ you alone, even if you are trussed up like a turkey. I don’t trust your ass.”
    Hmph. Smart man.
     He ran a palm down his face and she noted the dark circles beneath his eyes. He could use a good night’s sleep. And maybe a whole pot of coffee to himself. Good. Sleepy people are easier to run from. “Although, I hustled over here before I could have some coffee. I’ll call the diner and have a hellion bring over a couple of cups.”
    Crapola. She’d hoped he’d leave to get them, but the caffeine might do her some good anyway. Make it easier to think. “Thank you,” she said. “I take mine with two sugars. And maybe something to eat?”
    “Don’t push it.” He dialed from his cell and didn’t take his eyes off her while he ordered. After asking for the coffees, with sugar in hers and cream in his, and two donuts, he settled back in his chair.
    Things were looking up. A caffeine fix and a sugar high were bound to help with her escape plan.
    ***
    Axel hit the kickstand on his Harley Sportster Seventy-Two and ran a hand along the clean lines. It helped to focus on something real, something he could touch.
    He absently wiped away some of the road dust as he mentally prepared himself. He’d gone with the black quartz finish, and it had a faint metallic sheen beneath the glossy black. The motorcycle was gorgeous, but also a bitch to keep clean. And they were fresh out of bike-washin’ prospects, too. Yet another item for his to-do list. He had a hangaround or two in mind, but that’d have to wait.
    Right now, he had to deal with Beauregard.
    A few weeks ago, the Horsemen had been forced into a partnership with Beauregard. So far, he hadn’t asked them for anything, but Axel had a feeling that was about to change.
    Axel tipped his head to glance up at Beauregard Manor. It was an antebellum-style mansion with long Corinthian columns which dotted the length of the white veranda. The house was painted white with black shutters around the windows. The manor was surrounded by lush, manicured green lawns and with the Texas climate, the landscaping bill must be gigantic, but the Beauregards could afford it. They were rich as Croesus, funded by bootlegging and their connections with the Dixie Mafia.
    With a sigh, he trudged up the stairs, passing a row of guards in dark suits. The fucker had a serious security detail, probably because a lot of people were gunning for him. Byron had worked his way up the mafia food chain as a hit man. Most of his family were connected to the mob, but they all had to earn their own positions. The Dixie Mafia weren’t known for nepotism.
    Axel walked down the hallway, past even more guards, and finally ended up in the study. It looked like it should belong to a businessman or a lawyer—fireplace, antique furnishings, a couple of ornate bookcases, and the vault . Axel stared at it a moment, so very close to the gun he wanted, yet so very far away.
    Byron Beauregard sat behind his massive walnut desk with a China cup in hand. He wore a black suit with a gray silk paisley tie, which probably cost more than Axel paid in rent each month. Beauregard was shorter than Axel, around six-foot with blond hair and blue eyes. By all rights, he should be ugly as sin, to match that tarnished soul of his. Yet there something downright angelic about Beauregard.
    “Good morning, Axel. Care for some coffee?” Beauregard greeted him, as if they were old friends. He had a matching porcelain carafe on his desk, along with a pitcher of cream and a bowl filled with sugar cubes.
    The Beauregards weren’t shy about showing off their wealth, hence the Tara-like estate. They acted like all the money came from legit means, but Axel bet he had a lot of nooses