Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

Annoyed, I look back at the road, even though I still feel the heat of her heavy gaze on me.

“Drex is the best one to get rid of her,” I say dismissively.

CHAPTER 3

MAYA

I’m not sure who Drex is, but I don’t want to know. My body is still trembling, my hands are shaking, and my heartbeat is in my ears. I hate fear. It stinks and makes me feel like someone I’m not.

It was naïve to think I wouldn’t need immediate protection, when I knew the risks coming to this place. Lathan, however, is a little better than I credited him, and caught wind of my arrival in Halo before I even slept one night in my new bed.

Now this…

Is it stupid to ask some random guys with scars, tattoos, and guns to take me home with them? Yes. It’s incredibly stupid. But it’s by far dumber to go anywhere my brother might find me. And he will be looking for me. If I’m going to die, I’d like to at least die at the hands of a stranger, rather than my unhinged flesh and blood.

I was lucky when they pulled up, because it distracted Lathan long enough for me to get out of the locked room he’d shoved me in. My lock-picking skills aren’t a waste after all.

Then, to top off my luck, I was able to sneak into the garage while they talked off to the side. I managed to slip into the back of the SUV, undetected.

Lathan was so high it doesn’t surprise me that he never saw me slip out to where they were. I thought the model guy noticed me, but he never acted like he did. Until he got in the vehicle.

“Can I ask your names?” I ask the two silent guys up front as we slow to a steady crawl in front of a massive warehouse right in the middle of town. This is their clubhouse? Talk about no discretion or privacy.

It’s tucked away between more buildings—nothing at all like I would have expected.

“Snake and Axle,” the model says, not telling me which is which as they get out.

I hop out and follow, running close behind the one with scars whose voice sounds like sex to my ears. I’ve never wanted to fuck a voice more than I want to his. Yeah, I’m a crazy girl, but damn. It’s all deep and rough, almost as though he’s trying to seduce you with mundane words and succeeding without effort.

“I’m Maya,” I tell them, even though they don’t seem the least bit interested. “Maya Black,” I mutter under my breath as I sigh.

A door opens for them, and a guy with a beard and a bald head looks at me with surprise.

“Picked up a stray?” he asks.

“Drex’s problem. Lathan is a junkie,” the model tells him.

Still not sure which one is Axle and which one is Snake.

“Damn it. I told him he had to investigate these guys,” the bald guy growls.

“Herrin set it up. Not Drex,” the model adds before walking farther into the warehouse. “But we’re making Drex deal with the stray.”

I continue following like it’s my right to just bust up in their warehouse, and I move close to the side of the sex-voice guy as my breath catches in my lungs. There are people everywhere, and it looks like we’re walking into the middle of a party.

Loud music is blasting in the center of the room as girls dance for the guys, climbing in and out of their laps. I’m fairly positive that someone is fucking against the wall. I won’t look close enough to be certain.

I’ve been in the middle of plenty scandalous parties, but it’s a different breed here. Everyone is rough and…some are dirty…

In my element, I can rock these parties. However, this is not my element. I’m in pajamas to top it all off.

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable and like the new girl in school, I lean against Mr. Sex Voice, who jerks away from me like I’ve just slapped him.

When I look up, he’s glaring down at me, keeping at least a foot between us. I’m tempted to sniff myself and see if I stink or something.

In the light, I see his scars so much better. One gnarly scar runs the length of his face on one side and curls under his bottom lip. It’s deep, and it had to be painful. Some smaller ones are also on his face, marring what would be flawless perfection.

He cuts his gaze away from me and stalks off, leaving me on my own as a few whistles break out and eyes swing my way. I inch a little closer to the model guy, who is getting a drink.

“Are you Axle or Snake?” I ask him loudly to carry over the music.

He turns toward me with a coldness that wasn’t there earlier.