Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

She jerks a little at the sound of my voice and puts her phone down.

“My team was killed last night,” she states emotionlessly. “Which means Lathan has wised up to the game. Or Phillip has. They may not know I’m here, but they’re aware that someone is definitely targeting them, and now they’re more prepared. Or our inside guy sold us out. I won’t know until I get ahold of Ingrid.”

“Ingrid?” That’s a name I haven’t heard.

“A Family head who has the inside man,” she tells me. “I sent her a message. Just waiting on her to send me one back.”

She drops the phone to the bed and moves to go start changing. The second her towel falls off, my eyes rake over her flawless skin, taking it in like I can’t get enough.

I’ve fought her as long as I could. But hell, I’m only human. And she’s as sexy as they come. It was inevitable that I was eventually going to take her.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how different it would be from anything I’ve had before. She fucking wanted me. Got off on me touching her. And called out my name when she came on my cock.

That’s still fucking with my head.

I’m not used to any of this.

Fucking girl.

She turns to face me as she tugs on a shirt without a bra, and she quickly shimmies into a pair of transparent black underwear.

“It happened when you were a child, didn’t it?” she asks, drawing my eyes away from her underwear and back up to her gaze.

I stiffen, not liking this conversation already. This story isn’t up for grabs.

“Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Because I like you and want to get to know you. It’s pretty common for people to do that when they have great sex. It’s better than throwing them a towel and pretending as though they felt nothing,” she volleys.

My eyebrow goes up as her eyes gleam with a challenging glint.

“It happened when I was a child,” I confirm, wondering why I’m telling her that at all.

“I figured the person had to get you at your most vulnerable age,” she says with a shrug, as though it’s no big deal. “No way would anyone be able to hurt you now.”

Again, I have no idea what to do with her.

I cross my arms over my chest, and her eyes flick up and down my body like she’s taking me in, hungrily.

When her eyes meet mine again, she asks, “What was your real name?”

Something inside me turns cold, and I turn, grabbing a pair of boxers to jerk on. I was planning on getting back inside her, since we aren’t going anywhere now, but the urge has now been shattered with the questions I hate.

“I don’t have a real name,” I answer, reaching for a shirt and angrily tugging it on as well.

“Everyone has a real name,” she says as though she’s confused.

As soon as my jeans are on, I pull on my boots, tying them quickly with my back turned to her.

“I need to update Drex on your situation.”

“Drex has nothing to do with my situation. Your crew is to stay out of it. I told you as a courtesy.”

I sometimes think I want to throttle her almost as much as I want to fuck her.

“Drex needs to know what’s going on in our town, so as a courtesy, I plan to inform him,” I bite out.

“Fine,” she says flippantly. “But your guys are not to get involved.”

Breathe, Axle. Just fucking breathe through the irritation.

I decide not speaking to her as I dress is the best course of action.

“Where did the name Axle come from?” she asks randomly when the silence stretches on.

She’s going to keep pressing for answers, but she’s not going to like anything she hears. Then, if I see any fucking pity in her eyes, it’ll ruin whatever this is that she seems to feel for me.

I’m not sure if I want it ruined or not. Pity fucks are the worst. The damn girl is fucking with my head.

As I stand, she continues staring at me from her corner of the room, still wearing just those damn panties and a T-shirt that stops at her waist.

“The nurse gave me that name. It was the first thing that came to her, since her husband and son were working on building a car. They were greasing the new axle that day when she came into work,” I tell her, watching as her brow pinches in confusion.

I start walking for the door, but as soon as I reach for the handle, the too-inquisitive girl asks yet another motherfucking question.

“What nurse?”

“The one who was on call the night I was brought in for the burns on my legs.” I don’t mention it was the first time I’d ever been outside that house since I’d been taken there, and that it was a stroke of luck a neighbor heard me screaming. I also don’t tell her what happened that night. The night I was freed and fucked up the worst, all at the same time.