Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC Series #3)

by C. M. Owens

  Fate is just a made-up word used to give us hope or absolution. We find hope when we believe bad things happen to us for a reason. We find absolution when we feel as though the wrongs of our past were just fate's twisted design to bring us to our present, and all of it was out of our hands.

  Of course, I sort of changed my mind after meeting Axle. The man with scars and haunted, cold eyes. The man who only warmed when he was around me. The first man I felt wouldn't cost me my life. The first man I ever believed to actually be honorable, despite the fact he's a ruthless criminal.

  Then fate intervened. Life got complicated. Shit happened. And I sort of fell harder than I thought possible.

  The first time we met, I was in my pajamas and cowering on the floorboard of his SUV, hiding from my very insane brother. Lovely first impression, I assure you.

  The second time we met, I was literally skating around a bunch of corpses, because I'm slightly crazy like that. Long story.

  Obviously, my second impression had just as much impact as my first. Because he fell head-over-heels in love with me in that instant. Kidding. That last part is complete bullshit. Axle is far more complicated than insta-love nonsense. Which is one of my favorite things about him.

  Everything about us was perfectly complicated and wonderfully disastrous. It's what every girl dreams of... as long as they're as crazy as I am.

  And I'm just crazy enough to hold on, because I don't mind being the psycho chick in roller skates flipping fate the bird. It's just one of my quirks. Turns out, I'm Axle's brand of crazy too.

  Life should be really freaking interesting. Or catastrophic. I guess it depends on how much madness you can embrace.

  *Adult language

  *Sexual content

  *Violence

  *Not fit for someone who loves rainbows in books. Never mind. There's a rainbow in here. ;) <3

  Axle’s Brand

  Death Chasers MC Series

  Book 3

  by

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  C.M. Owens

  Axel’s Brand

  Death Chasers MC Series

  Book 3

  By C.M. Owens

  Copyright 2017 by C.M. Owens

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without express written permission of the author. This eBook is licensed for your enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  The story in this book is the property of the author, in all media both physical and digital. No one, except the owner of this property, may reproduce, copy or publish in any medium any individual story or part of this novel without the expressed permission of the author of this work.

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  PROLOGUE

  2 years ago…

  “I’m just saying, vajazzling is the new bikini wax. Girls have more bling down there than rappers have on their teeth nowadays,” Ezekiel says, grinning over at me. “What about you, Maya? Do you vajazzle?”

  I roll my eyes, settling down on the comfy couch of the lounge, darting a gaze across the street where our parents are having their meeting. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I see them shifting around, my father smiling as he shakes the hand of Ezekiel’s father.

  Kendra’s father is next, taking his turn to shake my father’s hand. It’s not the friendly handshakes that have my attention. It’s the tension in all their bodies. I can tell something is wrong.

  “Maya?” Ezekiel prompts.

  “You should take her silence as an admission of guilt,” Carlisle says, smirking over at me as I turn my attention back to the group.

  Ingrid bursts out laughing as I give him a horrified expression. “How did you know?” I ask seriously.

  Ezekiel and Carlisle both give me stunned, gaping looks, until I crack a grin and wink at them. “No, I don’t have bling on my vagina,” I finally tell them, rolling my eyes. “I barely make the time for a bikini wax because I get tired of probing fingers down there.”

  “No probing fingers; just probing cocks then?” Kendra volleys, giggling.

  “Exactly,” I deadpan.

  As they all break out into laughter, I turn my attention back to the window. Only a street divides us. My parents are up three floors and across said street, but I can see them clearly through the glass from here.

  Anyone in this building can. Not that they mind, since no one knows who they are. But I still don’t like seeing them so exposed.

  Something feels wrong.

  Or maybe I’m just living in a constant state of paranoia lately.

  Something has felt wrong for a while.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” Kendra asks as she sips her cocktail.

  “Thomas is in Manhattan with some of his old college friends tonight. I didn’t bother telling him where to find me, because he’s rather annoying when he’s drunk,” I answer with a smile to hide my annoyance.

  I honestly have no idea where he is, but I’d rather not say that aloud. Our relationship is…unhealthy most days. Toxic on others.

  “What about Lathan?” Ingrid asks me, her laughter tapering off. “Where’s he?”

  Just as I see my mother sit down by my father, I once again look at my friends.

  “My brother is absent. As always. He’s been an ass since Father made it official that I was the next in line for the Family. So I didn’t tell him where we’d be tonight.”

  “He’s known that his entire life,” Ezekiel states dismissively. “Your father didn’t want the Family split in half, and Lathan is too hooked on drugs to be a leader.”

  “I’m aware. But hearing it made official has sent him into a tailspin. More drugs than usual. More girls than usual. More everything and less attendance. I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

  “So he’s icing everyone out,” Carlisle surmises.

  “Not Father. He spoke to him today, but he only told him of the meeting he had to attend, and Lathan apparently hung up on him during the conversation. Father was trying to get him to go to rehab, and asked him to come by after he got back from the meeting. Didn’t go well.”

  Ingrid blows out a breath, about to say something, when suddenly the building we’re in shakes hard. The floor rattles beneath us, as noise—just a steady, ear-splitting, undefinable noise—tries to deafen us.

  Windows shatter, and Ezekiel tosses me to the ground, his heavy body coming down on top of mine. It’s all a blur of motion, nothing making sense.

  Screams sound like distant echoes, and I manage to peer up as the building stops moving. My eyes go to the mostly shattered windows, and my heart leaps out of my chest.

  I don’t know when I get up.

  I don’t know when I start screaming.

  I don’t know when I start fighting against Ezekiel’s hold, or when he even starts holding me back, preventing me from falling to my death in a
quest to save my parents.

  It’s like it all went black for a second, and suddenly I was at the broken windows, staring in disbelief at a room my parents couldn’t have escaped.

  Ezekiel is still holding me back as I scream, trying to reach for the burning building across the street as the fire rushes from the room, chasing the outside air.

  A second explosion triggers, and I’m launched backwards, the heat and pulse of it so strong against me that it knocks the breath from my lungs.

  I blink, wondering when I got back on the ground, wobbling as I stand back up. Ezekiel is unconscious beside me, and Ingrid is slowly lifting herself off the floor, a cut on her head.

  A ringing is constant in my ears, making everything else background noise. I see Carlisle’s lips moving as he comes to me, shaking my shoulders, but all I can do is stare past him and across the street at the destroyed top half of the building.

  The building where our parents were.

  As the first tear falls from my eyes, Carlisle shakes me harder, blocking my view as he moves his body to be completely in front of me.

  “Not here. Not now,” I hear him say, though it still sounds like he’s at the other end of a tunnel speaking at me. “Don’t cry. Not here. We can’t let anyone see us weakened.”

  Ingrid is batting tears out of her eyes, helping Kendra up, as Ezekiel slowly pushes to his feet.

  Hollowed out, I meet Carlisle’s gaze again, steeling myself, turning cold like we need to be, even as my heart breaks behind the shield of ice.

  “Phillip Jenkins,” I whisper, knowing exactly who is responsible for this.

  Ingrid takes a step closer, her jaw tensing as she meets my gaze and adds, “Will die.”

  CHAPTER 1

  MAYA

  Six months ago…

  One hour ago, I was in my apartment and settling down for a night of binge watching movies with pizza, beer, and popcorn after just getting settled in Halo.

  Now? Now I’m the girl who’s freaking out and hiding in the back of a big SUV, and I’m the girl who is silently begging an unknown guy to let me stay hidden as he glares at me with cold eyes, a tense jaw, and indecision in his posture.

  This entire thing went south faster than expected.

  I guess that’s obvious, given my current predicament.

  Scars line this guy’s face, and he looks freaking terrifying with that glower in those icy eyes too pale to be called blue. They’re almost a light gray, creepy but also intriguing.

  But for some reason, I also feel safe in his presence. Because I’ve lost my mind, most likely, and am desperate to feel as though I might be safe again.

  I’m so screwed if he doesn’t let me stay hidden.

  His muscles flex as he finally shuts the back door, not saying anything to anyone as he hides me from sight. He stays close, letting me see him through the side glass, even as I stay as close to the ground as possible.

  I have no idea where we’re about to go. I have no idea who he is. But right now, that tattooed bad boy with scars is my favorite version of a dark angel, because he may very well be saving my life.

  CHAPTER 2

  AXLE

  She’s staring at me with those eyes that scream for help while her lip trembles. Fuck my night. Why is there a girl hiding in the back of our ride?

  Then a sick feeling tightens my core when I realize why she’s probably hiding. Fury rides through my veins as I shut the door on her, concealing her from sight, when I hear the fast approaching footsteps of our prospective clients.

  I shouldn’t have opened the door, but I heard a noise. Now all I want to do is put a bullet in Lathan for what he might have done to her.

  “Did you assholes see a girl run through here?” Lathan asks, wiping some coke away from his nose.

  Junkies. We don’t do business with junkies.

  “Nope,” I lie, absently noting how Snake cuts his eyes toward me.

  “Fuck!” Lathan roars, slamming his fist against the punching bag in his massive garage that is in the middle of no-damn-where. “Find her!” he yells to three guys who run into each other in their haste to follow orders.

  “It’s like watching the Stooges,” Snake muses from my side.

  “It’s like watching junkies,” I grumble. “Thought someone vetted them.”

  “Herrin set this up,” he says with a shrug.

  We watch as Lathan goes on a tantrum, kicking shit, punching random things, and finally throwing things around.

  “We need to head out,” I yell to Lathan, who doesn’t even acknowledge me.

  “No way are we fucking doing business with them,” Snake says quietly as Lathan actually flips over a table. “Ever.”

  “Definitely not,” I agree, but for an entirely different reason.

  “Find her!” Lathan roars again.

  “You know she’s in the backseat, right?” Snake asks.

  “Yep.”

  “Just checking.”

  He goes to get in on the passenger side, while I take the driver’s seat. This was a waste of two fucking hours of my life that I’ll never get back. Herrin is sure as hell going to hear about it, too.

  As soon as we’re out of the garage and halfway down the street, Snake addresses the stowaway.

  “You owe him money or something, girl?”

  A heavy breath comes from the backseat, and some of the tension eases out of my shoulders. I hadn’t even considered that she might be a junkie—even though she doesn’t look like one. My mind immediately always goes to the worst thing that would leave a woman cowering in fear.

  “No,” she says from the floor very quietly.

  That has the tension notching back up.

  “Start talking if you want to keep riding,” Snake goes on.

  She blows out a heavier breath while the rustling sound behind me lets me know she’s getting up. My eyes stay on the road instead of glimpsing at her as she makes herself comfortable in the backseat.

  “Lathan is psychotic,” she grumbles.

  “Ex of his or something?” Snake pries.

  “Sister,” she confesses, allowing all the tension to leave my body with that word. At least I hope he didn’t cross that fucking line.

  “Why are you hiding from him?” I ask, hearing her breath hitch at the sound of my voice.

  “Because he’s psychotic,” she says again, forcing my lips to twitch. “Lathan blew through his trust fund and now he wants mine. Long story short, he had his thugs bring me to his place tonight, and the conversation ended with a gun pointed at my head.”

  There’s more annoyance to her tone than surprise, so I wonder if the gun pointed at her head statement is a euphemism.

  “I’m almost positive he was planning to kill me tonight,” she goes on. Her tone is flat, almost as though it’s no surprise.

  Fucked up families everywhere, it seems.

  “So what were you guys doing there? Buying? Selling? Working for him?” she asks us.

  Snake and I both snort derisively while shaking our heads.

  “We’re not junkies or dealers,” I tell her, listening to the way her breathing hitches at the sound of my voice again.

  What’s her deal? People freak out over the scars, but not my damn voice.

  Irritated, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I assumed all the terror in her eyes when I saw her cowering on the floorboard was because of her fear of Lathan. Now I half wonder if it was just the sight of me that had her shivering in fear. Wouldn’t be the first fucking time that’s happened.

  “So what were you doing there?” she asks.

  “Our business. Not yours,” I tell her curtly, ignoring the sound she makes this time.

  “Sheesh. Sorry. Just making conversation.”

  “You need better conversation skills,” Snake points out as we ride out of town and head toward Halo.

  “Where are we dropping you?” I ask her.

  Fucking eh. Why does she make a sound every time I speak?

  �
�Wherever you’re going, that’s where I want to go. I can’t go back to my place. Lathan’s goons got in too easily, and I don’t trust him not to just repeat the performance. I doubt I’ll get lucky enough to escape twice.”

  The sky thunders and lightning crashes in the distance, reminding me why we took the SUV in the first place. She’d been shit out of luck if we’d taken our bikes.

  “Can’t go home with us, sweetheart,” Snake drawls.

  “Yes. Yes I can,” she says quickly.

  She doesn’t make a sound when he speaks. Just me. Guess the monster is scarier than the pretty boy with some ink.

  I keep my mouth shut the rest of the way to Halo, but Snake continues to argue with her the second we hit the town line.

  “No, you can’t,” he says, sighing heavily. “Our place isn’t for pretty, sweet girls with junkie brothers. Promise.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to think you guys are legit or anything, which is why I want to stay with you. You could probably protect me. I can pay you. I have a lot of money, hence the reason Lathan wants me dead. Not that he can touch my money if I die.”

  “Then he doesn’t want you dead. He’s trying to scare you into handing everything over,” Snake points out helpfully.

  “Regardless, I can’t go home. I can’t check into a hotel either. He has guys everywhere. And I can’t leave Halo.”

  “Why can’t you leave Halo?” Snake muses, asking the questions I can’t, since she doesn’t like the sound of my voice.

  I feel her eyes on me, and it makes me tenser than I already am. Not sure why she’s getting under my skin like this. Probably because of the fear in her eyes… The way she looked like she’d sell her soul for just one more breath.

  I’ve held a breath like that myself once upon a time ago.

  “Because,” she finally says, “I just can’t.”

  “Well, we just can’t let you into our clubhouse.”

  “Oh, so you’re a motorcycle club,” she says in surprise, causing me to cast a sideways glance at Snake.