Adrenaline Rush (Death Chasers MC 4)

She starts belly-dancing to the instrumental part, even though it’s not exactly something she’s good at. It’s not exactly a hip-thrusting song, but she rolls with it.

We both just watch her as she starts singing again with her own parody of the song.

“I feel angry and unrepentant. Feel like killing and avenging for joy! For I’m loved by a stabby, psychotic booooooooooooooooooooyyyyyy!”

As soon as she lets the last note die off, she peers over her shoulder, that wild, crazed look in her eyes as she slowly starts smiling.

“AJ,” he whispers under his breath, his jaw moving a few times.

“You know the girl, so figure out the routine all on your own from here, and decide how quickly you get to die—”

“He has a shipment coming in today. A big one. I’ll give you every single detail if you let me walk out of here.”

She shrugs her shoulder and nods, and he starts spilling details like he’s a blubbering errand boy instead of an important figure inside an elite, criminal circuit.

I’d be embarrassed for him, but I’d probably spew like a bitch too.

She doesn’t exactly need my help, so I’m apparently just here for her to remind me why I stay on her good side.

Duly noted.

She idly nods as she flips on a brighter light, and he continues to spill out details as she pulls on a bulletproof vest and tosses me one as well.

My day was already busy before this shit.

He cries out when she starts yanking knives out of him, and she releases him completely. He’s wary as he works his way to his feet, wincing and hissing through the pain as he stumbles his way toward me.

He drops to the ground when the wounds in his knees get too painful for him to stand on anymore. Sarah starts packing her body with weapons, as he whimpers and looks over his shoulder, dragging himself toward the stairs now.

I step aside to let him crawl up them, and he never even glances at me. Quirking an eyebrow at his tattoo that definitely shows his high rank inside his crew, I idly wonder how much of Sarah’s reputation is myth versus fact.

I hope most of it is made up.

However…he just cracked like an egg, and he works directly under her father, given the tats. I know how crazy Kara is, and her father is way less of a monster than Sarah’s. That says a lot.

“Do the song and dance routine often, do you?” I ask like I’m not completely disturbed by the extreme variety of crazy she brings to the table.

“Pick your weapons. It’s time to cover my back and make good on your favor. Also, I need a ride,” she chirps as she starts following the blood trail up the stairs, still humming that song.

Cursing, I go and grab a few, checking the sights. By the time I finish and get up the stairs, following the blood trail out, I find Sarah hovering over the interrogation victim’s lifeless body on the front porch.

She glances over her shoulder at me as she struggles trying to pull him in.

“What?” she asks defensively when my brow lifts in confusion. “I only told him he could walk out of here. I didn’t say how far he could walk before I killed him dead and stuff.”

She groans when she can’t get his dead weight to budge, before adding, “A little help, please.”

Glaring at her, I shake my head. “Your brand of crazy makes me really uncomfortable,” I remind her as I go, grab one ankle, and start dragging the heavy fucker back inside.

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

Chapter 9

KARA

I’m practically chewing my nails off by the time the door swings open at two in the morning, and I glance up at the cuffs that are holding me in place.

Maya cuffed me down. I didn’t object. I have no idea who Maya or Sarah are, but I do know they seem to be completely unafraid of the club…even dismissive.

Rush staggers in, beer bottle at his lips as he curses and stumbles against a wall. The cuffs rattle when I try to lift up, and he flips on a light, squinting against it to see me.

“Wake you up?” he mutters, a slur to his words as he…

Holy shit.

He’s covered in blood.

“Fuck,” he groans, lifting his shirt to where he has bandages that have bled through.

“Did you get shot, you idiot?” I gripe like I have some reason to.

“No. Stabbed. Looks worse than it is,” he mumbles as he strips out of the shirt the rest of the way.

If I wasn’t so distracted by all the blood, I’d be distracted by how much of a man he’s turned into. I blink a few times, remembering I’m not supposed to be turned on by a bloodstained killer just because he whips his shirt off. It’s just my damage and not my healthy new normal.