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

by C. M. Owens

  Sledge smiles fondly of that imagery, then he starts up his engine, making it purr. “You’re the boss. We’ll do it your way.”

  I nod and start my bike back up, ready to get this over with. Everyone follows my lead. Sledge stays close to my right, keeping his front wheel next to my back one. Hershel—Pop’s second longest loyalist—takes my left, getting even with Sledge.

  We pace ourselves, crawling into the warehouse parking lot like we have all the time in the world. Between the abandoned containers and rusted, forgotten objects littering the otherwise vacant lot, our engines echo and resound, making it sound as though we’re hundreds instead of twenty.

  Just as we round the corner of the old warehouse, we see the relaxed crew of the Hell Breathers. They’re all propped against their bikes or leisurely sitting on them, waiting for us as though it’s been hours instead of ten minutes.

  Sledge and Hershel both ride up beside me, putting their bikes even with mine as they warily keep an eye on Benny and his men. Benny’s son isn’t here. Probably for the best. Boy doesn’t have the black heart for this business. Or the iron stomach.

  But usually Benny brings him along, trying to groom him for his place in the business. It’s suspicious that he didn’t tag along this time, and I scan the scene warily.

  After coasting to a stop, I kill my bike, letting quietness descend when my guys follow suit. Benny smirks, which immediately has me discreetly tensing, but my tension eases quickly because he’s too relaxed to have anything up his sleeve.

  I prop up on my handlebars, looking around but not seeing this girl they’ve brought.

  “Where’s this big peace offering?” I ask, feigning a yawn.

  He looks toward one of his guys and gives him a nod, which then prompts the guy to head toward the warehouse doors.

  “This means no more of your men showing up on my streets and causing a scene. You know that, right?”

  It’s my turn to smirk.

  “Pop tell you that?” I drawl, amused.

  Benny narrows his eyes at me, doing his best to be intimidating. We’ve been ruining their “fear” factor lately, showing people what pussies they really are.

  “He said he’d let you determine if she was worth the peace. Personally, I’d think you’d enjoy not looking over your shoulder every time you go to get something to eat.”

  My smirk turns into an entertained grin. They usually stay at least three towns over, but in the past year and a half, they’ve encroached on our space in Halo.

  “Haven’t been looking over my shoulder, Benny,” I lie, because we all look over our shoulders, but not just because of him.

  His jaw grinds for a second as he cracks his neck to the side. “It’s rare a gem like this falls into our laps. Most of our girls are hardened like us. Nothing wrong with that, but this is a new flavor, and she’s his for the taking. Usually getting a girl like this requires force.”

  I tense at that. That’s one thing I don’t allow in my crew. Pop doesn’t mind it, but it’s pretty fucking disgusting to me. If they’re giving it away, I’ll take it. I don’t have to force myself. Shitheads like Benny probably don’t have a choice.

  “I’m not sure one girl is enough to ice the bad blood between us,” I say, shrugging while acting bored with all of this.

  “It’s just a symbol, Drex. This is me taking the first step to put our bad blood to rest. If we’re constantly at war, then someone else will eventually take advantage of us once we’ve weakened each other. Herrin agrees. Which is why you’re supposed to turn over some information to me as a show of your peace offering.”

  That’s the real reason he’s giving us this girl. He wants to know which one of his men is a rat. Benny’s so dumb that he didn’t know he had a fed in his crew. But I don’t know if a girl is worth it. Benny could go down for a long, long time.

  Then again, the fed seems more loyal to a Vegas crime family than the actual FBI. I half wonder if he’s running them info on Benny and his goons as well.

  “She’s the daughter of Aaron Marks,” he adds, grabbing my attention, even though I don’t let him see it. “Does that sweeten the pot?”

  Aaron fucking Marks. That slimy son of a bitch. He has a daughter? How the fucking hell did we miss that?

  More importantly, how the hell does Benny know we have… well, had beef with Aaron? It was kept in-house.

  He smirks, seeming to enjoy my jaw ticking and my back stiffening. He hands me a file, and I skim it quickly, not saying anything to Benny.

  Birth certificate, STI tests… There are pictures, but I bypass them when I study the part about Marks, the rat bastard son of a bitch accountant. This is actually his daughter. How the fuck did I not know he had a family?

  “She doesn’t know,” Benny says casually. “Now she’s all yours to toy with. Do we have a deal?”

  It’s not like I’m going to ask Benny how he knows about our grudge against the dead man. But I will be asking Pop about this shit. That’s why he agreed to this. Why didn’t he tell me?

  Getting even with Aaron from beyond the grave will be nice, since the dick killed himself before I could kill him personally. It’s also too tempting to pass up.

  Without letting my eyes fall on Benny’s rat and giving it away, I pull a manila envelope out of the back of my jeans and hand it to Benny. Then I sit back and watch as he reads the indisputable proof, along with pictures for a visual.

  “Here she is, boss,” his minion says while stepping into sight, but the girl is hidden behind Benny. All I catch a glimpse of is a delicate arm attached to soft-looking fingers.

  I hope Pop breaks her. Her father sure as hell tried to fuck us nice and hard.

  He turns to let me see her, and my blood pumps faster the second my eyes find the innocent looking thing in front of me. Christ, she looks too damn sweet.

  Jeans that are just a little too big hide her curves. Her shirt hugs her, showing me her flat stomach and fucking perfect chest. And those eyes—a shade of green that I’ve never seen.

  She bites her lower lip as she studies me, taking me in like she’s curious. Granted, I don’t look like the riffraff she had bring her over here. She looks young—too young to be doing this. I might should have studied that birth certificate a little better.

  “How old are you?” I ask, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my bike.

  She looks around as though she’s scared to speak, and that puts me on alert. I shift my gaze to Benny as my eyes narrow in suspicion.

  “You sure this is of her own free will? If you’re trying to pin us with a kidnapping—”

  “It’s of her own free will,” Benny interrupts dismissively, still reading the paper in front of him as though he’s soaking in all the information.

  I look back to the girl who hasn’t said a word, and I stare expectantly, waiting for my answer.

  “Tw—twenty,” she stutters, looking too nervous for this to be legit.

  I glare at Benny, wondering now if this is his game.

  “You realize Death Dealers are for life, right, sweetheart?” I ask, turning back to meet her scared green eyes.

  We’re not really lifers usually—unless you’re as high up as the inner circle. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you can leave whenever if you’re not in that circle. This isn’t a damn street gang. But she doesn’t know that.

  She nods, swallowing hard, and I take a harsh breath. You can’t fake that kind of fear. Living the life I have, I’ve seen plenty of fear in other’s eyes. This is real. And I’d almost feel sorry for her if she wasn’t Aaron Marks’s daughter. But she is.

  “Your father has the details, and she’s fully aware of what she’s signed on to do. She has her own reasons for this.”

  Benny looks up from the paperwork, and shoves it all into the back of his jeans. But when his hand comes out, there’s a gun attached. His cheeks puff angrily, and a guttural growl emerges from his throat.

  Fuck.

  My gun is drawn before I even
realize I went for it, and the sound of clicking metal rides through my ears as a wave of us do the same. Just like hundreds of times in the past, we’re facing the Hell Breathers, both sides refusing to lower their weapons as we wait on a reason to shoot.

  But Benny doesn’t hold his gun on me like I expected. It’s pointed toward the head of his FBI informant, and I hear Sledge exhale in relief.

  The guy’s eyes go wide as he stares at Benny in shock, feigning innocence. Everyone around him steps wide, distancing themselves from the crazy shit.

  “What are you doing?” the rat gasps, gingerly holstering his gun as a show of submission.

  Stupid move. He might as well take out some of the bastards and go down in a blaze of glory. No one has pride anymore. Or balls for that matter.

  My eyes rake over the newest member of our crew, and I fight the urge to shake my head in disbelief. My dad will ruin her if she’s really just some girl down on her luck who had to make a deal with the devil. I half wonder if she really doesn’t know about what her father did.

  The question is... What’s the deal she made with Benny?

  “What do you mean, Jeff?” Benny hisses, reminding me there’s about to be blood spilled. “Is this scaring you, Jeff? Or maybe you’d prefer to be called Adam Mason.”

  I don’t have to look at the scene to know the fed’s eyes have widened in terror. His heart is probably ready to explode. More than likely, he’s on the verge of pissing his pants.

  “B-Benny, don’t—” Two shots silence him, but Benny doesn’t stop until he’s emptied the magazine.

  My eyes have stayed on the girl, gauging her every reaction as she watches the fed go down. There’s no way to fake that reaction, which I actually find amusing. She’s terrified and… sick.

  “Ah, hell,” Sledge groans as the girl vomits, bending over as she loses it.

  Her whole body is pale and shaking as she responds to what she probably considers a traumatic experience. It still doesn’t prove that she’s not being put here to spy on us, but maybe we can use her to learn more about Benny. She’s weak, and the weak are easy to break.

  Maybe instead of ruining her, we can use her. Obviously she’s close to Benny if she came to him, which would definitely fall under the category of spy. We can turn her, and Benny’s little plan will backfire.

  “Where’d you find her?” I ask, looking back toward Benny as he curses the fed’s body that lies still in a pool of his own blood.

  He spits on the fed’s corpse, and turns back to me as some of his guys take a few shots at the dead man as well.

  “She grew up with my boy. She needed money, I needed this, and your father wants peace. It’s a winning situation all around.”

  So he definitely knew Marks. This just raises more suspicion.

  How much money does it take to have a girl hand over her body for life? It’s not like the money is going to do her much good, unless she’s expecting to be set free by Benny. Until we turn her on Benny, she’ll never get to go anywhere or do anything—besides warm my father’s bed.

  That thought doesn’t settle well with me now. And I really don’t like the fact that I don’t like it. It’s hard to ignore the sour taste in my mouth.

  This is our world, and I signed on for it a long time ago. Then again... Pop doesn’t need to take chances. If she’s supposed to be a token of peace, it doesn’t have to be Pop’s bed. Pop prefers the wild ones, anyhow.

  Then again, so do I.

  But if there’s even a chance she might be up to something, Pop doesn’t need to risk it. I’m not ready to lead the club yet, and I’m sure there are several from his second crew that would raise hell if the position fell to me prematurely. The last thing we need is a war within the outfit.

  And if she is up to something shady, I can always fuck it out of her. Since she knows what she signed on for.

  My smile grows as she staggers backwards, shielding her eyes from what’s left of the gory remains.

  Stepping away from all the fun and moving out of earshot, I pull out my phone, dialing my father while keeping my eyes alert.

  “What’s she like?” Pop asks by way of greeting, and my eyes rake back over the body of the sweet girl.

  “Definitely not your usual type. But I don’t want her with you. She could be their spy.”

  “I was already prepared for that. I have a list of fun things planned out for breaking her. Most of which will happen in the bedroom.”

  It shouldn’t bother me—the girl is asking for it—but for some reason, the thought of Pop having her is making my stomach churn.

  “She’s not your style, Pop. And for all we know, she could slit your throat in your sleep. I’ll keep her, see if I can find out what Benny’s up to. Besides, Benny doesn’t want me dead. It’s you he’s after right now. Let’s play this smart.”

  His laughter creeps through the phone, and I can sense his smile.

  “In other words, you want between the girl’s legs. Must be a looker. You’re lucky your old man has a soft spot for you, or I’d kick your ass for wanting what’s mine.”

  I don’t say anything, because I sure as hell don’t want to push my luck. After a few minutes of silence, he releases a breath. “Fine. Take her. You haven’t ever asked for anything, so this once I’ll give you something. But don’t tell her a damn thing, and see if you can figure out what Benny is after.”

  A lazy grin crawls into place as I turn back to face the brunette beauty who is still shaking, probably in shock. This is going to be fun.

  “No worries.”

  “And, Drex, if she fucks up, she’s dead. Understood?”

  He doesn’t even need to ask that.

  “I’ll put a bullet in her myself.”

  Chapter 7

  EVE

  He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we got here—his clubhouse. In fact, he’s barely taken his eyes off me since he met me.

  The warehouse, if that’s what you can call it, is huge. As soon as you walk in, there’s nothing but wide open floor space full of couches, TVs, weird art work, and even a massive kitchen off to the side. The wall against the back has doors, but two are open, leading into a red lounge type room with carpet instead of concrete.

  The building is tall, big enough to be considered three stories, but there only seems to be two floors, and there’s a metal, industrial-style balcony that wraps around the top, guiding the way to several doors along the path.

  Large concrete columns are strategically placed along the lower level, and several large rugs are resting in various areas over the concrete floor. None of them match, but then again, neither does any of the furniture. Even the dining room table has random chairs shoved under it—and that’s one hell of a massive table.

  There are several sets of stairs, but Drex leads me up a set that isn’t too far from the entryway, keeping me from prying farther. I follow silently, acting like the good little gift I am.

  As I go, I ignore the curious eyes of the numerous men around. My eyes flick to a wall at the other end, all the way across from us, and I see several large garage doors that are open.

  Motorcycles and cars are parked all in it, and I half wonder why Drex parked his outside instead of in there. But my thoughts are cut off as we reach a room.

  It’s a large room, and once we’re inside, the sound of the door shutting is almost deafening, because we’re alone. My life is changing, and it’s changing quickly.

  Is he going to leave me here for his father?

  I shudder discreetly, hoping I don’t get sick. Waves of nausea crash against me, battering me from the inside, but I do my best to remain an external picture of composure.

  Even though this room is big, there’s not a lot in it. One large dresser, one large closet, a massive bed, several odd angles—that could be perfect for hiding—and what appears to be a bathroom.

  The walls are cold and hard, just like Drex.

  Drex is the Vice President and son of Herrin—President of the Dea
th Dealers—and I’m actually surprised. I’m surprised about Drex being VP, not Herrin being President.

  Drex is maybe in his late twenties, but he doesn’t look anything like what I expected a VP to look like. He doesn’t look polished, but he doesn’t look like he just rolled out of bed either.

  This isn’t the type of MC that just hangs out and loves to ride together on occasion. This isn’t the happy-go-lucky type of group that look like killers but are secretly Teddy Bears. No. This is an organization, a business, and an elite team of criminals who have banded together, just like the Hell Breathers. And now I know for a fact that they’re killers.

  Coldhearted killers.

  These are the lethal criminals; motorcycles just happen to be involved.

  Drex isn’t bearded like some of them. He has just enough stubble to pull off that slacker sexy. His soft, dark hair is short on the sides, almost buzzed, but the top is long enough to run your fingers through and have something to tug. Though the only reason I want to tug it is to use it as a handle to hold him still while I knee his balls and run away.

  Unfortunately, I’d rather live—at least one more day.

  He’s tall, like at least 6’3. Even though it’s hot outside, he’s wearing a leather jacket that has “Death Dealers” proudly displayed on the back. There are several skull symbol things embroidered on the jacket that apparently represent their club, along with a grim reaper in the center of them.

  On his right hand, his fingers are tattooed near the base, with the exception of his thumb. DREX is spelled out, as though he wants someone to see his name before his fist connects.

  “Eve Marks?” he asks, intrigued, and it shakes me from my inner appraisal.

  I just nod as he chuckles, circling me as he reads from the file Benny apparently gave him. I’m not sure what exactly he finds amusing. How much of my personal information is in there?

  Though he’s beautifully disguised, he’s a monster just like the rest of them. I’ve never seen anyone die right in front of my eyes, especially not so brutally, but they all seemed to either enjoy it, or they acted bored. This creep watched me the whole time, probably enjoying how sick it all made me.