Property of Drex (Death Chasers MC 1)

“How so?”

I trace the scar I was kissing with my finger, while shrugging and staring at it, taking my eyes off him.

“Because it’s a reminder that you live a dangerous life. It lowers your life expectancy.”

A throaty laughter surprises me, and I look up to see him grinning down at me now.

“You must really like me then if you’re worried about how long I’m going to live.”

Rolling my eyes, I prop up on him a little better.

“Why do you do it? Why take the risks? Surely you have enough money by now to just get out, if Dad stole so much from you. I’m assuming you got it back since you’re not the ones who killed him.”

Thank God for that.

He shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. “What we do isn’t as high-risk as the drug dealers and arms dealers. It used to be some seriously shady shit before we changed things up. I like the gray area. I’m never going to be a guy who sits at a cubicle and lives the American Dream life, Eve. It is what it is.”

For two weeks, we’ve discussed mostly my life—every detail of it. I think he’s trying to trust me, which is improvement. I want to know about him without knowing everything.

“Danger excites you, though. So I think I need to keep doing what I’m doing just to keep you wet,” he adds, winking at me as heat blooms across my chest.

I don’t argue that first part, because I’m twisted and all, but I do wish he wasn’t doing anything dangerous. Whatever that is. It’s a constant reminder that this is temporary, because I’m not cut out for this life. I also haven’t seen or heard about any long-term commitments between the other guys and women.

“I can think of something I’d rather you did with your mouth than kiss old scars,” he says suggestively.

My lips twitch, and I start moving lower, kissing my way down his stomach. His smile falters, and his eyes grow hooded as I lick the lines of that perfect V between his hips.

But before I can work my mouth down to where he wants it, there’s a loud, obnoxious banging at the front door. I squeal, he curses, and the banging persists.

“Who the fuck is it?” Drex demands, lifting me off him as he grabs his jeans and starts stabbing his legs into them.

“It’s Drake. Let me in.”

Drex’s eyebrows go up in surprise, and I quickly dress as he walks out of the bedroom, leaving the door open. I can see the front door from here as Drex rushes to it.

I don’t have time to get my bra on, so I just pull my shirt on seconds before Drex swings open the door.

“What the hell are you—”

Before he can finish that question, Drake barges in, shutting the door behind him. He glares at Drex before handing him his phone.

“My phone has been blowing up with threats all day. Hell Breathers got wind of your visit to me, probably think we’re playing them or some shit. Benny and his gang of douchebags just sent me that last message a few minutes ago.”

I don’t know what it says, but Drex’s nostrils flare as he reads it. I move into the room with them, adjusting my shorts and staying out of the way. It’s not like I can’t overhear everything from inside the other room anyway.

“I’ll call Pop. He should know they’re making threats. I’ll call Axle first and tell him to meet up with us at the warehouse.”

“I’m coming with. These fuckers are threatening me, so I’ll definitely have something to say when this is taken care of.”

Drex seems hesitant, but I’m so damn confused. What the hell is going on?

“Drex?” I prompt.

He walks over to me while pulling out his phone. His hand cups my chin, while his thumb slides up and down my jaw, stroking it as he starts talking to who I assume must be Axle.

“Yeah… Drake is sending you some stuff. We need to meet you at—”

His words are cut off by glass shattering and explosions thundering across the house. I hit the ground hard, the breath heaving from my lungs as black dots speckle my vision.

It takes me a second to realize Drex has just thrown me to the ground and that the explosions weren’t explosions at all—it’s gunfire. A lot of it.

Holes appear in the walls around us as Drex yells to Drake across the room. Drake slides a gun across the floor, and Drex grabs it, keeping me covered with his body as he lifts his head to see out the window, firing with Drake back at something.

In the movies, it all plays out so clearly. You see the bullets zipping by. People are screaming, and you can distinctly hear the loud sounds of rapid gunfire, isolating each bullet that slices through the air.