Property of Drex (Death Chasers MC 1)

I’m paranoid and freaked out every night, because he doesn’t lock his door. Apparently that’s him saying he doesn’t trust his guys if he locks his door on them. I don’t trust his guys.

Drex has told everyone I’m off limits, but that doesn’t stop them from leering or saying things that make my stomach roil. It’s only the guys who don’t stay here much. They’ve been bringing in more and more of them, and now this place is packed.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I know a lawyer showed up and talked to the feds. They haven’t banged on the door or harassed Drex anymore.

He still hasn’t kissed me, but he has sure as hell used my body. The madness hasn’t caught up with me. Yet. My mind is still finding ways to cope, and for at least a week, I’ve managed to avoid the impending nervous breakdown.

Soft lips press to the back of my neck, and I remain still on the bed with a book under me—courtesy of Sarah. “What’re you reading?” Drex asks, running his hand up under the short denim skirt I have on.

“Smut,” I lie, refusing to tell him I’m reading about Motorcycle clubs and the orthodox rules they usually follow. Oh, and as it turns out, human trafficking is a real thing, but it doesn’t look like the Death Dealers partake in it. My situation also don’t fall under the guidelines of human trafficking. “Thought I’d get some ideas on how to impress you.”

He releases a sincere laugh that makes me smile against all odds. He’s nothing like I thought he’d be, and as twisted as it sounds, I actually enjoy being around him. He was… unexpected—is unexpected—in the best possible way. I don’t hate myself for what I’ve had to do because it makes it… okay? I’m not sure what word I’m looking for, but I’m glad I’m not miserable.

“Well, I’m glad you want to impress me, but I prefer to be the one in control. So no reading necessary. Get ready. We’re going to the club. It’s Mack’s birthday, and he’s going to want a good time.”

The way he says that gives me pause, and my whole body gets rigid. “Not with me?” I ask hopefully, feeling sick all of the sudden.

“Fuck no,” he says quickly. “You’re mine. I’ve told you this. No one else is allowed to touch you. But there will be alcohol, drugs, and lots of other men from other clubs. You’ll have to stay close. Which means you might end up with a few lap dances from the girls coming to see me. Now go get ready.”

Girls coming to see him… I really wish that didn’t piss me off. This is not a real relationship. I’m supposed to be dwelling in an endless vat of self-loathing misery instead of playing house. There’s no sane reason for me to feel jealous right now. But I can’t help it.

Maybe I have Stockholm’s Syndrome.

I don’t say anything as I go to grab a bra and a different shirt. Maybe I’ll make myself look good enough to keep him distracted. Or at least look good enough to force other guys to look at me—which will make Drex focus more attention on me. He’s pretty damn possessive when it comes to other guys around me.

Yep. Crazy. I’m a certifiable lunatic.

“We’ll be taking my bike, so no skirts or dresses.”

“I’ve already got a dress planned out,” I lie, listening to him go quiet for a long minute.

“A dress will blow up on the back of my bike, and I don’t want anyone seeing your ass. So no dress.”

“I can tuck it under my legs. I want to wear a dress. This is the first time I’ve gotten to leave since I came here. I’d like to at least look decent.”

I turn in time to see his eyes narrow and his jaw tense. I never argue about anything he says, so he’s probably caught off guard.

“Why do you want to wear a dress so badly?” he asks, slowly coming toward me as I undo my skirt and drop it to the floor.

“I just told you why. I’ve ridden on the back of a motorcycle while wearing a dress. I can handle it.”

His grin only partially forms. “Ben doesn’t drive the way I do.”

A small ruffle of excitement forms because I’m twisted and love the scary side of this jerk.

“I’m sure I can handle the way you drive. So far I’ve managed,” I say very suggestively, and his grin only grows.

“So you have.” His anger seems to dissipate as mischief settles in his eyes. I’m not sure I like that look. “Fine. Wear your dress. If anyone sees your ass, I’ll fuck you in front of the whole club to remind them who you belong to. Make sure you’re okay with public exhibitions if that dress is so damn important.”