Property of Drex (Book 1) (Death Chasers MC Series) (5 page)

Chapter 9

EVE

Two girls with long, silky hair walk in, carrying bags of what appears to be clothing. One girl has auburn hair that can’t be natural. The other is a platinum blonde with perfectly manicured red nails.

They don’t look the way I expected. I guess I expected fake bimbos with boobs spilling out of their tops and gum hanging out of their mouths. They look chic and understated sexy. I’d even say they look classy.

The wall dips and has a hidden cove. This is the safest place in the room to stay hidden. They haven’t seen me, but I can see them through the reflection of the mirror on the adjacent wall.

“So Drex, like, bought the girl or something?” the redhead asks. “Didn’t realize the sex slave ring was back in style.”

“He didn’t buy the girl,” a gruff voice says, matching the man who brought my stuff up earlier while I hid in the bathroom.

He announced himself as Sledge when he came in, but I stayed hidden and silent until he left.

“So…” The blonde’s words trail off as she awaits an answer.

“It’s a long story. She should be up here, so let’s not discuss it. She’s probably hiding in the bathroom again.” He sounds… worried? Perhaps sympathetic? I’m not sure. He doesn’t sound cold though.

Both girls are thin with tight jeans on. They look like normal, gorgeous women, but they have matching tattoos on their inner wrists—the initials
DD
. The font is bold and the letters are large, making it easy to see even through the mirror. As long as I don’t move, they won’t notice me in the mirror—unless they look at it, of course.

I’ve made myself as small as possible, curling into a ball almost.

“We don’t need to be dealing with human trafficking shit. Other than the fact it’s archaic and sick, the feds are watching us enough as it is. They’ve been at the salon all week. They keep coming in for haircuts they don’t need, and asking questions they think we’re stupid enough to answer truthfully. Someone is feeding them information, because they know too many of the right questions to ask. I’m not so sure some chick getting sold to the club is the greatest idea, considering the convenient circumstances,” the girl continues, baiting him.

Sledge cracks his neck to the side and glances toward the bathroom door that is closed.

“It’s not a damn human trafficking thing. It is… a unique situation, but I don’t want to explain it here. We’ll discuss this downstairs. Does Drex know about the feds snooping around?”

“Called him the first day they came in,” the redhead says.

They proceed with pulling all the clothes out of the bags, and they tuck them into the drawers, moving very slowly, proving they’re in no rush.

“If they’re scoping out the salon, they’re probably watching this place, too. But they’re apparently being more discreet than they are over at Herrin’s spot. I should call Drex,” he tells them.

Sledge turns to leave, and I hold back the waves of nausea. Why does the FBI want them? Because of the guy I had to watch be killed?

Swallowing hard, I push down the bile-encrusted memory that tries to surface. In one traumatic day, I sold my body to monsters, I was bent over a bed by a man I didn’t know, my body responded to him in the most traitorous of ways, and I had to watch a man’s head get blown off.

As much as I’d love to stay in this corner for the rest of my time here—however long that might be—the words Drex said keep running through my mind.

I can’t pout. I can’t act like this is as horrible as it is. I’m expected to play a part, or he’ll send me to Benny. The hairs on my body rise at the mere thought of something that vile. There’s no telling what he would do to me if I got sent back.

This all stinks to hell and back. I’m starting to feel like a pawn, especially since they all seem to be just as leery of this peculiar situation as I am. I thought it was a common occurrence amongst them. Apparently this is just as frigging crazy and unusual as I found it to be.

But what could Benny possibly have to gain by doing this? And why would Drex and his crew play along if it’s so out of the ordinary?

Their conversation grows louder when the redhead says, “Drex hasn’t ever had to pay for ass before. Why would he start now?”

They’re still hanging up my clothes or neatly folding them into drawers.

“He’s not paying for shit. The girl was a gift. Christ, why won’t you just come downstairs and talk about it? There’s no reason we have to discuss it up here.”

Sledge sounds irritated now, and his eyes keep flicking to the bathroom where he thinks I am. The small mirror still gives me a decent view of all three of them, though I hope they don’t glance in its direction. They might tell Drex I was hiding in the corner, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like that.

“Because we’re waiting to see her. I’m assuming Drex will want her working at the salon or at the massage parlor. I’d like to at least know what the girl looks like. The longer we stand out here and talk, the sooner she warms up and comes to answer some questions for herself,” the blonde says, eyeing Sledge very defiantly with a broad smile on her face.

The guy is a beast. No way in hell would I talk to him like that. Is she crazy?

“Drex doesn’t want anyone talking to her. So I doubt she’ll be working with you. And I’m sure he doesn’t want everyone up here getting to know her. If you’ll come downstairs, I’ll explain that better.”

He doesn’t want anyone talking to me? Great. I’ve apparently sold myself and turned into a sex-slave prisoner. I’m starting to realize there’s no amount of therapy in the world that will be able to save me after this is over.

If it’s ever over.

“What the hell’s going on up here?”

Drex’s voice forces a blanket of dread and nerves to cloak me and almost strangle me. Shit. He’s here. He’ll see me being the miserable girl in the corner.

I need to put on my game face and act like I’m able to handle this. But that’s exactly what it’ll be—an act.

Chapter 10

DREX

I gave one simple order—don’t speak to the damn girl. I heard them talking from all the way downstairs. Un-fucking-believable. Just because she’s hiding in the bathroom, that doesn’t mean she’s not listening in.

I glare at Sledge, and he mumbles something about stubborn women. He needs to grow a set. He’s too big to be such a fucking pushover.

“I said, what the hell is going on up here?” I snap, glaring at Colleen, Sarah, and Sledge like they’re idiots. Because they are.

The girls both look down immediately, and Sledge groans. “The girls were curious about your new toy. They thought she might be working at the salon or the spa.”

The salon and spa are two of the legitimate businesses we use to clean the money we make on our car rebuilds and transports. Considering we can’t exactly let the feds walk in and see the cars and bikes we gut and rebuild to hide drugs or guns for transports, we need clean businesses that we can cook the books on.

Too much shit goes on in both places for the possible spy to head in to work. Besides, she’d have access to Benny too easily if I let her out of my sight.

“She’s not working. Get your asses out of my space, and get downstairs. I’ll discuss this with you later.”

Colleen practically sprint out, Sarah skips away, and Sledge flips off their backs as he follows.

I glance over some of the clothes they’ve put in the closet. It’s a hell of a lot better than the preppy shit she has. The second the feds get a glimpse of her with her sweet-and-innocent grandma clothes, they’ll ask questions. They’re already going to be curious about a new girl.

“Eve,” I call, glancing at some of the sexy panties and bras the girls bought.

Much better than the old lady underwear she had on earlier. Even if she still looked plenty sexy.

I’m going to have more fun with her in lace.

“Yeah,” she says, suddenly right behind me.

I turn quickly, measuring her carefully. She’s wearing my shirt, and that forces me to arch a brow.

“Why were you hiding? And why are you wearing my shirt?”

She doesn’t look overly stressed out, which is disconcerting. After the hellacious day, she’d be freaking out if she was as sweet and innocent as I originally thought.

“I wasn’t hiding. I was trying to be respectful. I wasn’t given permission to speak to anyone else, and you mentioned that you hated my clothes. Since I had nothing else at the time, I borrowed a shirt in case you came back.”

What the…

Is she for real?

Emotionless. She’s so stoic that it’s actually a little creepy.

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears suddenly, and I tilt my head. “You look like you’re about to cry,” I murmur absently, still studying the soft green eyes.

It sort of pisses me off that she’s about to cry, because she seemed fine two seconds ago.

“I’m fine,” she lies, turning her head as she moves over to the dresser. “What would you prefer I wore?”

This whole master/servant thing isn’t doing it for me. “Whatever they bought. You just can’t wear your shit. Too many questions will rise. Now, tell me why you’re about to cry.”

I glare at her back, waiting for an answer. She was fine until I showed up, and I know for a fact I haven’t done shit to her. She sure as hell enjoyed herself earlier, and I asked repeatedly if it was all consensual.

“It’s just been an overwhelming day. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not going to cry,” she says with her back turned, her body close to shaking. “I’ve never seen anyone die, I left my family, and… I swear I’m okay. Don’t send me back to Benny.”

Her voice stays steady throughout that little explanation. Until she reaches the last sentence. That’s when it breaks.

Is she scared of Benny? Does he have something on her that I don’t know about? And how the fuck does she know him?

“So you’re doing this for your family,” I say, dropping to the bed as she selects a pair of cut-off shorts and a white shirt.

She swallows audibly while turning to face me. “Yes. You’re welcome to check my family’s financial history.”

Already have someone looking into that, baby.

“And what would happen if I just turned you loose and sent you back home to your family?” I ask, smirking when her head pops up in surprise.

For a fleeting second, she looks so hopeful. I’m learning a lot just from her expressions. But then her face falls.

She sighs as she reaches for the bottom hem of her shirt—well, my shirt—and pulls it over her head. No fucking underwear. Now I’m distracted as hell, and I slowly slide to the edge of the bed, moving to be just beside where she has laid out the selection of clothing.

“Stay naked while you speak,” I tell her, feeling like a bit of an ass with that command, but not giving a damn.

Her body tenses, but she doesn’t argue. At all.

“If you were to set me free this early, Benny would think I’d screwed up and pissed you off or begged to be set free. Possibly think I was inadequate. I honestly don’t know, but I know he wouldn’t just let me return home and pretend as though I don’t have a debt to pay.”

The fear is real. Or else she’s a hell of an actress. But she seems more afraid of Benny than she does me. Appearances can be deceiving. I make Benny look amateur. But maybe she’s afraid for another reason.

Benny might actually go and kill her family. Perhaps he’s already threatened to. He wants something, and she’s the center of it all. I just have to keep an eye on him and wait for him to make his move.

“How’d a girl like you run into a guy like Benny?” I ask, unable to keep my hands off her any longer.

Her soft skin has been on my mind all day. Softest damn thing I’ve ever felt. Her curves are placed in all the right places, and her beautiful tits will fuck with my head even after I’ve had my fill of her.

I tug her to me, pulling her down until she’s straddling my lap. Her pebbled nipples are the first clue that she’s not exactly immune to me—by any means. Even though she’s wary, she can’t seem to help herself.

My mouth moves over her nipple, and her breath leaves in a harsh rush as she grips onto my shoulders.

“I asked you a question,” I remind her softly, moving my attention to her other nipple as she tries to find the ability to form words.

“I know Ben. His son. We went to school together. He took me to his dad when I needed help. Benny gave me this one and only option.”

Her head falls back as her legs spread wider, and she allows herself to sink down on me fully.

So she’s friends with the boy that doesn’t have the stomach for our work. I can actually picture that.

Her dark hair falls forward when she leans into me, and I tilt my head, barely holding back a small laugh. She wants to kiss me. Interesting.

I smirk as I flip her to be on the bed, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“You should keep something in mind,” I say as I stand up, pulling my shirt over my head.

Her eyes go to my stomach, slowly sliding down to my waist where I’ve started undoing my jeans. Her chest rises and falls more rapidly as her breaths increase, and I take my time. Once I’ve shed my jeans, I walk back over to her, letting her soak in the sight of me as I crawl over her body.

I tilt her head up as I poise the tip of my cock at her soaking wet entrance. Her sharp intake of air is erotic as hell when I press just a little more inside her. Fuck, she’s so damn tight.

“You don’t want to cross me,” I say, teasing her lower lip with my thumb as I push my cock inside her just a little farther.

The fact she’s this turned on with very little effort is fucking killing me.

Biting back a groan, I try to keep my composure, waiting on her to respond.

“I’m not going to,” she whispers, arching her hips almost involuntarily as a war goes on behind her eyes.

I pull back and slam into her, forcing her back to bow off the bed, and a cry of pleasure to fall from her lips. She’s pretty fucking beautiful—especially right now.

“Good,” I growl, picking up a powerful rhythm that has her clamping her legs around my waist. “Because if you think Benny is scary, you’ll be fucking terrified of me.”

Fear flashes through her eyes, and for a brief second, I almost feel guilty. But when her walls clench and damn near strangle my cock, I see her struggling even more with the war within her. Lust, confusion, and fear all teem inside her fuck-me eyes.

Danger excites her.

I really like the fact I just threatened her and she’s turned on enough to cry out again. I drop my head to watch her, enjoying the way her eyes go lazy and her expression gets sexier, more relaxed as she just rides out the pleasure.

Each stroke gets tighter as her orgasm hits her, causing her muscles to contract. Her pussy squeezing my cock in another iron-grip as she comes hard and cries out is the last of my restraint.

Holy. Shit.

My balls tighten as a searing shot of pleasure burns through my toes and up through my spine. I’ve never gotten off so fucking hard.

Best
gift
ever.

Dropping to her, I let my lips just barely miss hers. I’ve never been so tempted to kiss a girl as I am right now. The fact she’s scared and turned on is really messing with my head and my cock.

I refrain from the temptation and turn my head to the side instead of acting like an idiot who’s caught up in the moment.

“Ben isn’t your friend any longer,” I say against the pillow, feeling her stiffen beneath me. “Death Dealers don’t play with Hell Breathers. Or any other clubs for that matter. You’ll learn the rules as you go, but that’s the number one rule.”

I lean up to see her lower lip trembling. She’d better not have feelings for him. That could put a bigger kink in this whole situation. But that’s something I need to explore. The more we know about her, the better.

She nods her agreement, and I pull out of her, watching as she winces from the loss of the connection and a breath of air hisses between her teeth. As I grab my pants, I toss her the clothes she just picked out. If she doesn’t put something on, I’m going to keep fucking her all day. And I’ve got a plan to put into action.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs in twenty minutes,” I tell her, watching her green eyes go wide.

I chuckle lightly while pulling on my jeans, bypassing my boxers just to drive her a little crazier.

“You can’t stay up here all the time.”

She swallows hard but nods. She’s almost being too compliant. That only makes me more suspicious of her.

“Twenty minutes. Not a minute before or a minute after.”

That’s demanding enough for her to argue the complexity of such a request. But instead, she looks at the clock and nods again.

Biting back the questions I’d like to ask, I turn and head out the door. If I ask too much too soon, I won’t find out a damn thing. I wish Pop would just let me blow Benny and his club all to hell. Then I could save myself from this very elaborate game.