iend of a friend thought you might want to make an appearance.”
Charleston wasn’t so far from home, a few hours out of the way at most—leaving that man awful close to Charlotte. Business done, Matthew stood ready to get the hell out of Chicago and straight down to Friendly’s.
“One more thing, Matthew.” Beaumont tapped his finger on the table. “I’d go tonight, if you get my drift.”
Oh, he got it. Not to say that Matthew didn’t have trouble trusting a man like Radcliffe. “This friend of a friend, who is he?”
Radcliffe grinned, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The whiskey—if it could even be called whisky—was warm, sliding slippery-like down Charlie’s gullet. It was her second time wasting a night in the hind legs of West Virginia’s capital city, wandering shit holes a man like Roy Beachum might frequent. The turn of events, her sitting there in the shadows, was as cliché as it was routine.
Friendly’s was just charming, from the bloodstains on the floor to the reek of vomit in the corners. Over the years she’d been in a million bars just like it, felt at home sitting back against the wall, observing.
All signs had pointed to Charleston, a city almost large enough a wounded man like Roy might disappear. But with his friends dead, he’d be looking for new cronies. Friendly’s was just the place for making contacts, boasting a rough crowd and a bad reputation.
Beachum was in the area, and frankly, the chase and the subterfuge needed to placate Matthew was getting grating. Things needed to be wrapped up, Charlie aware she’d have to leave Charleston soon if she was going to beat Matthew home from Chicago.
Six hours and still no Roy…
From under a dirty brim, sapphire eyes measured each man who came through the door. She listened for whispers, gossip, bawdy stories, that same sour whiskey clutched in her fist.
And still nothing.
But Friendly’s was the key, she knew it. She just had to be patient—and maybe prepare to duck—as it looked like a brawl was ready to break out. Shouting got louder, two drunks beginning to posture just as the door opened. A wiry nobody with a scar traipsed in, far too cocky for a man about to enjoy an unmarked grave.
Wise enough not to grin outright, Charlie settled for a nasty smirk. She could’ve raised her glass to him, watching him limp towards the flashier whores. In fact, she couldn’t have asked for better. The cover of an impending fight would make dragging the man out go unnoticed, and Roy was even cornering himself by offering cash to a hooker who would take him someplace private upstairs. Everything would get wrapped up right on time for her to hop a train and be back at Devil’s Hollow in time for breakfast.
Roy didn’t seem too picky on choice of company, choosing the first he clamped eyes on. Her prey marched upstairs, arm in arm with a woman sporting flaming red hair. Pushing away from the wall, Charlie walked to another lady of the evening, prepared to make the lucky girl a decent proposition. She needed access upstairs, and the girl in her dirty yellow dress would make a couple easy bucks without having to do a damn thing. Once upstairs, she’d hogtie Roy, beat some answers out of him, and drag him off with no one the wiser.
It was perfect. Or it would have been had the door not opened again, had two familiar men not sauntered right into Friendly’s reeking of trouble. Cursing the foulest language she knew, Charlie pulled down her brim and decided on the direct approach—aka: directly avoiding a glowering Matthew and angry looking Nathaniel.
Charlie shoved cash at the whore, took her arm and dragged the woman towards the stairs before either man might clamp eyes on her. She knew how to be quick, how to get in and out, and if she played her cards right, the Emerson brothers would never know Roy, or she, had been there.
All hell broke loose behind her the moment her boot hit the first step. The brawl began. It didn’t matter which drunken redneck swung first, it didn’t matter why, but it gave her pause. Bar brawls could get downright nasty. Even knowing the Emersons were solid fighters, Charlie could not help but look over her shoulder just to make sure they were all right.
Her boys were back to back, right by the bar, and heavily caught up in the midst of the scuffle. Matthew took a hook to the jaw, his assailant knocked out cold, shattered nose changing the fool’s face forever. Her smirk was inevitable; Matthew was a damn fine boxer. And where Matthew was formidable, Nathaniel was downright scary.
They’d be fine.
Shaking her head, preparing to turn back up the stairs, Charlie thanked God she’d hesitated. One last glance and she found Eli shoving through the door. The swing of the wood caught a stranger, and not two seconds later a man the size of a mountain took a swing at the overeager kid in retaliation. Clocked in the back of the skull, Eli fell, the bottle used to peg him shattering in a rain of green glass.
The giant who hit him held up the broken stump, laughed at the look of it, and went in for the kill. But Charlie was already there. The second she’d seen the boy, she’d rushed the crowd, picking up a broken table leg on the way. Heart in her throat, she roared, cracking the makeshift bat against the skull of a stranger who threatened one of hers. The goliath fell, so still Charlie was certain she’d killed him.
But there wasn’t any time to give two shits. Reaching down to sharply yank one befuddled Eli off the floor, Charlie yelled, “Get on your feet, Eli! Stay behind me!”
The kid couldn’t have looked more shocked to see her spin and swing at the next man coming their way. She was a devil with that bat, knocking teeth out without mercy, jabbing guts until men pitched forward to find her knee catch their chins.
In the middle of the madness, after a spray of blood shot from the face of the next chump foolish enough to charge her, Charlie unintentionally locked eyes with her future husband. She had no clue how he did it, but Matthew crossed through the melee, shoving men aside like a maniac once he’d seen just who had saved his cousin. Once close, he made a grab for her, hefting her like a sack of flour over his shoulder. Storming out, Nathaniel dragged a bleeding Eli in tow.
The sound of the fight diminished, cold air making her sweat steam. “Goddamn it, Matthew! Put me down!”
He did just that once they were clear of the saloon, dropping Charlie so he might back her against his truck. Grey eyes became molten steel. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
Throwing the chair leg in a fit of temper, Charlie hissed, “Roy Beachum is upstairs fucking a redhead as we speak. And instead of hog tying the bastard before he can run off, I saved Eli from a goddamn giant looking for blood.”
Nathaniel didn’t wait for orders. Hearing what she’d said, he charged back inside to fetch Roy before the goon might slither off.
The way Matthew was breathing, chest rising and falling, it was clear he was beyond furious. “How did you even know he was here?”