“And y’all wonder why I like it here so much.” Hobbling towards the bar, Charlie grabbed a towel and got it wet. Facing Matthew, she wiped a bit of blood spatter from his forehead. “I’m not really sure if I should be honored you two did what you did, or angry that you took it upon yourselves to fight my battles for me. But my gut tells me to say thank you. So, thank you.”
The man kept his eyes closed and brow furrowed as she cleaned him up, disappointed when the touch on his face ended. But then she took his hands and dabbed at dirty knuckles, mindful that they might be sore from cracking skulls.
When it was Nathaniel’s turn, the man backed away from her towel. “Ain’t no way you’re coming after me with that.”
Charlie cocked a brow. “It would do you some good. How long’s it been since you took a bath?”
Nathaniel defended himself. “We went swimming two weeks back.”
The look Matthew gave his brother would have sent a smaller man running.
Making a face, Nathaniel groused, “We wasn’t naked, Matthew.”
Charlie turned her back and limped towards the washroom so she might clean the soiled linen.
* * *
Once her skirt disappeared behind the corner, Matthew raised his finger, ready to lay into Nathaniel.
Before he could begin his reprimand, the screen whined.
Matthew was already fuming, but taking one look at what slithered into his home unannounced, darkened his eyes considerably.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Emerson.” Jacky Brindle, a slimeball straight out of Chicago, crossed the threshold.
Nathaniel, far more obvious in his anger, stood tall at his brother’s shoulder, unsmiling and silent.
It was Eli who thought to calm the tension. He offered a hand. “What brings you out here, Mr. Brindle?”
“Just passing through.”
“That right?” Matthew stepped nearer, looking over the polished gangster and the four men who’d made the hours-long drive at Brindle’s back. “Well, we ain’t open.”
Jacky was older, leaner, but unlike the Emersons, he was armed. “Since I’m here, Mr. Radcliffe thought I might make sure things are running right. You sure have been bringing in a lot of product; wouldn’t want you to get in over your heads...”
“I’m gonna warn you once. Tell your boss if he’s thinking of moving on in, he’s gonna be disappointed.”
As if he hadn’t heard a word of the threat, Jacky continued, “He’s offering further partnership—our expertise in oversight.”
No flashy three-piece suit could hide what those men were: killers. Killers sent by a Chicago Kingpin who thrived on greed and violence. Radcliffe thought to take a greater piece of the pie—to intimidate, steal his stills, probably end his life too, if Matthew let the villain get even a toe in the door.
Matthew, towering over the lanky gangster, threatened, “You tell Beaumont Radcliffe I don’t fuck around. If he sends his lapdogs out to sniff around again, the deal’s off. There are plenty of other buyers waiting in Chicago with better manners, I hear.”
“I’ll pass that message forward. In the meantime, we’ll just, ah, take a rest.” Jacky took a drag off his cigarette. “Won’t we boys?”
* * *
Charlie came back in the room.
All eyes went to her, Jacky taking the moment’s distraction to cock his head towards the nearest table so his goons might take a seat.
Acting as if she’d seen nothing, Charlie went to her suitcase. That room, Matthew’s business, was no place for her, and it was clear as day he wanted her to disappear.
“Eli, give Miss Charlotte your keys.”
Obeying, the boy stepped forward and swept up her suitcase, setting off for the door to put it in the car instead of offering an arm to help her manage her ankle.
Knowing neither Matthew nor Nathaniel could budge from where they stood, Charlie gave a nod goodbye, shuffling towards the door.