Property of Drex (Death Chasers MC 1)

Sheesh. I feel like I’m the criminal.

“Okay.”

“Axle,” Drex says, looking behind me. “Go through all her bags once more. Take her old clothes down below, and put that shit in a closet or something. It’d be too risky to toss them in the trash right now.”

The guy with snake tattoos all over his arms and neck walks toward the room to do as Drex has asked. Drex is still studying me, and I’m growing increasingly uncomfortable under his unbreakable gaze.

“It’s probably best if we just cut the girl loose,” Sledge says, and my eyes widen in fear. There’s no way I can let Benny touch me the way Drex has. I’d never be able to wash away the disgusting feel he’d leave behind.

Drex… I don’t know him. It’s easy to be a toy when you don’t know the person. He’s so much closer to my age, which again makes this easier. On some sick, twisted level, I’m even attracted to him. But I can’t be Benny’s.

“Can’t,” Drex says, his eyes still watching my every move. “Benny might think something’s up. The girl stays. The feds will be going after all the women in our businesses. They’ll consider them an easier in. Prepare the girls, warn them of the consequences, and call Esmerelda. Make sure she deals with anyone who needs to be fired right away.”

He stands, and my breath catches in my throat as he comes to be between my legs again. Roughly, he tugs at my hair and dips my head back so that I’m forced to stare into his piercing blue eyes.

“You only get one chance. Fuck up, and you’ll pay. Understand?”

My words grip the sides of my throat, refusing to leave my mouth. I’m forced to nod instead, and he leans back.

“Good. Now that you know the rules, go through the double doors and head to the den. The girls will be in there, and I’ll come get you soon enough.”

The first normal breath finds my lungs as he slides me off the table. He thumbs my lip while staring directly into my eyes for a minute longer. After what seems like an eternity, he finally lets me go, and I reluctantly go to join the girls who will treat me like shit. I could see it in their eyes earlier. I’m already hated; I’m sure as hell not trusted; and now I feel like the smallest infraction will get me killed. I really hope those agents don’t speak to me.

When I reach the den, the three girls are lounging around, and the one he called Sarah—the blonde—smiles at me. “So Drex let you come speak with us. He was determined to keep us away from you earlier.”

The redhead doesn’t even try to pretend that she’s less than disgusted with me. The older woman with dark hair like mine just sits, observing me with mild interest.

Very awkwardly, I sit down on the couch while the TV on the wall plays through a show I’ve never seen before. I don’t know if I should speak, and I’m not in the mood to attempt it.

“Drex seems to be really into you,” Sarah says, seeming genuinely pleased, which confuses the hell out of me.

The redhead snorts and rolls her eyes while feigning interest in what’s on the screen as she retorts, “Drex had a girl sell herself to be at his beck and call. He’s fascinated. It’ll wear off soon. Real soon. Boredom will kill him, and he’ll pass her along to one of the other guys.”

Oh shit. I hadn’t thought of that since he said I was his. I don’t want to be passed around. I’ve not even made peace with being Drex’s whor—um… I mean… toy. I’m sure as hell not ready to be anyone else’s.

Sarah rolls her eyes while waving off the other girl.

“Ignore Colleen. She’s just pissed because she’s always wanted in Drex’s bed. She’s not as bitchy as she seems right now.”

Crap. Just what I need. A scorned woman painting a target on my back.

Colleen scoffs, “I prefer to keep my self-respect instead of being a prostitute. Drex used to have standards.”

So everyone knows that I sold myself. As if my life wasn’t going to be hard enough.

“Ask questions. I know you have them,” Sarah prompts.

Liza’s eyes zero in on me, as if she’s waiting for me to say the wrong thing. Asking questions is tricky, because I don’t want to ask a question that will make someone suspicious of me—or more suspicious of me. The guys are probably speaking about how they’ll get rid of my body if I run my mouth or help the FBI.

I don’t even know what they’re doing that is shady. And I don’t want to know. The less I know, the safer I am.

“I really don’t know what to ask,” I say honestly.