Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC 3)

I lose all interest in everything surrounding us as I lift Maya, dropping her ass on the bar and stepping in between her legs. With the bar being so high, her head is a little above mine, and she gets the higher angle on the kiss for once.

She grins against my lips like I just did something right, and I tug her closer, making sure no one can see past my body to where her skirt has her exposed. Her nails softly graze my scalp as she wraps her ankles around my waist.

“I think I like you drunk,” she murmurs against my lips.

“Not drunk. Just getting there.” I tug her bottom lip between my teeth, but before I can take things farther, Drake’s voice is busting up the moment.

“It’s not a purse,” he’s telling someone as I turn my head to the group, staying put between Maya’s legs. “It’s a satchel. You cumstains try to carry shit when you’re working with crutches. You get inventive.”

“You mean you get a purse,” Drex deadpans, amusement dancing in his eyes as Drake glares at him, reaching his hand into the green bag that does look suspiciously like a purse.

“You fuckheads probably need to deal with this pronto. It’s never a good thing when someone drops a package on my doorstep and tells me to deliver it to you.”

Drex reaches out, taking a manila envelope from Drake and ripping it open, pulling out a thumb drive.

“I’ll grab a fucking laptop,” Dash says on a sigh as he puts his drink down.

I glance over, seeing Drex tear Tiffany—the newest girl to join the ranks—off Jude before leaning down to his ear. Tiffany tries to step into Jude before he walks off, but he just lifts her and drops her ass to the chair he vacated, before following Drex back to us.

“What’s going on?” Maya asks, biting on her lip.

“Stay with Eve.” I jerk my gaze to Drake and point at him. “You stay right here. Anyone fucks with her—”

“I can handle babysitting detail. I have Eve with me almost daily,” Drake interrupts.

“I work there. You don’t babysit,” Eve drawls.

I get what Drake is saying even if she doesn’t, and I turn and follow the others into the meeting room as Dash finishes setting up the screen, linking it to the laptop.

Drex hands him the drive as I shut the doors, sealing everyone else out.

Sledge props up next to Jude on the wall, and we all wait really impatiently as Dash takes forever. “Sorry,” he grumbles, finally getting it to play. “Little fucking too drunk for this.”

“At least you’re not—”

Drex’s words die as a scream rips through the room, coming from the screen. My stomach roils as I stare at Liza being held down on a table, fighting and struggling as Herrin’s laughter comes through the speakers.

My eyes dart to Sledge to see his eyes wide, his face pale, and his knees wobbling.

Liza screams again, and I realize Hershel—Herrin’s right hand—is fucking her as Herrin ducks his head into the screen, grinning at the camera.

“If you can’t keep your women safe, then it’s just a matter of time before I finally get my hands on you.” Another scream interrupts him, as Liza begs for them to stop. I swallow down the bile as Herrin chuckles, his eyes returning to the camera. “One down. More to come, son. Keep telling people I’m a fucking rat, and there will be far worse than this.”

The screen goes blank, and Sledge darts to the screen, ripping it off the wall and smashing it against the ground. Dash leaps back to avoid the flying debris, and I lean against the table, feeling my heartbeat drone in my ears.

Jude slams his fist into the wall. Drex is shouting something, barely reining in his own temper. Dash is on the phone, trying to get a beat on Herrin.

“Someone thinks Herrin is hiding out two towns over at the old factory we used to own,” Dash says. But he’s wrong. That’s probably a fake lead planted by Herrin himself.

He wants us to go to that old factory, because that’s a lot farther away than he is.

“He’s at the Royal Inn right outside of town,” I say, silently seething as I straighten. The buzz from the alcohol is gone. All that’s left is that never-ending rage that loves to come out and play.

“What?” Drex snaps.

“I’ve been to all sorts of motels around town for business meets. That peacock paper in the background; it’s only at the Royal Inn. They shut down six months ago and the place is set for demolition. That’s where Herrin is.”

“I’m getting a message from a guy swearing he’s holed up at the factory. They saw him ride in there today,” Jude is arguing.

Sledge looks at me, his body tense and tight, ready to break. “You sure it’s the Royal Inn?” he asks, eyes on me.