Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

He smirks, but I just turn and head back to the room to grab my guns.

“Get the down payment from her,” he calls to my back. “We’re going to need new cuts.”

I don’t acknowledge him as I take the stairs two at a time. When I walk into the bedroom, Maya whirls around, and my mouth dries.

Why is she in a fucking towel?

Groaning, I take in her dark, wet hair as it clings to her, and she cocks an eyebrow at me when I run my gaze over her from head to toe.

“You finally going to take me up on my offer?” she asks dryly.

I tilt my head, shutting the door behind me. I almost lock it. Almost.

Fucking girl.

“Not until I figure out your angle,” I answer honestly.

She rolls her eyes as she goes to pull open the curtain on her makeshift closet. “I have numerous angles. All of which you’d love. There’s one angle I’m particularly good at,” she goes on.

This is what I’ve dealt with. For seven fucking days.

It’s just after noon right now. It’s a long time before I crash in the bed beside her again, and it’s going to be harder to avoid her today, since I’m sure Drex will call a meeting/party to introduce the new name.

I can’t leave her alone with the others here today. Especially since some more of our charters have dropped their cuts and joined us after Herrin’s attempted—and failed—hit on us.

“You like your games, don’t you?” I ask in a bored tone, going to the dresser and pulling out my guns, putting them both in their holsters.

“No games. Just figure life’s too short to be subtle. Also, I usually always jump in with both feet when I want something. It’s called living. You should try it some time,” she deadpans.

She lets the towel fall away, and I lean back, against my dresser, watching her as she slips into her lacy underwear. Various tan lines wrap over each other, proving it’s a true tan.

I tell myself I’m only watching to prove to her I have control over myself. Again, I’ve been telling myself this for seven days.

Her perky breasts are just daring me to touch them. Nipples are peaked and ready, as though offering an invitation.

But I can watch without tossing her to the bed like I want to. I’ve watched her all week. Usually I got to leave for the rest of the day, but I’ve still watched her all week.

“I enjoy living, but you learn to be suspicious of someone when—”

“When they want to have sex with you?” she interrupts, turning around and putting her back to me. “That’s sad. Must be hard to get laid if you always sit around wondering what every girl wants from you.”

My jaw grinds as she bends over, showing me her ass through the skimpy shards of lace, as she pulls on a pair of shorts.

“What do you want, Maya?”

“Already told you what I want from the club and you. From the club, I want cars and a place to lie low while I conduct my operation. From you, I want orgasms. It’s that simple,” she answers without turning around. “But at this rate, I’ll just take the cars. I’m starting to see you as too much work. I really like being chased as opposed to always chasing.”

She spins around as she tugs a shirt into place. The damn shirt has a pink cupcake on it.

A pink fucking cupcake.

How can I take her seriously?

How can I believe she really runs a notorious bookie family?

“Yet you came down here completely alone, and you didn’t seem to have a clue about what you were doing,” I tell her instead of commenting on that other part.

She rolls her eyes as she starts brushing her wet hair, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

“I’m not going through this again, Axle. You know why I came alone, and yeah, I’m a novice at how to discreetly take down an ex-Family head in a town where I know no one. I was going to take a few months to get it all sorted, take in the lay of the land, and make some new friends who could hook me up with the right people. But Lathan jumped me when he found me much sooner than I imagined. It sped up my need for protection, hence the reason I begged that night.”

She looks over at me as she puts her brush down and picks her towel back up, squeezing it around the long, dark strands.

“Either start asking some new questions, or at least get some fresh material to reword the old ones,” she goes on.

I check my phone. Again. Sarah hasn’t been answering any of my calls or texts to explain this situation to me.

Putting my useless phone away, I lean back, measuring the girl in front of me.