Property of Drex (Death Chasers MC 1)

He doesn’t want anyone talking to me? Great. I’ve apparently sold myself and turned into a sex-slave prisoner. I’m starting to realize there’s no amount of therapy in the world that will be able to save me after this is over.

If it’s ever over.

“What the hell’s going on up here?”

Drex’s voice forces a blanket of dread and nerves to cloak me and almost strangle me. Shit. He’s here. He’ll see me being the miserable girl in the corner.

I need to put on my game face and act like I’m able to handle this. But that’s exactly what it’ll be—an act.

Chapter 10

DREX

I gave one simple order—don’t speak to the damn girl. I heard them talking from all the way downstairs. Un-fucking-believable. Just because she’s hiding in the bathroom, that doesn’t mean she’s not listening in.

I glare at Sledge, and he mumbles something about stubborn women. He needs to grow a set. He’s too big to be such a fucking pushover.

“I said, what the hell is going on up here?” I snap, glaring at Colleen, Sarah, and Sledge like they’re idiots. Because they are.

The girls both look down immediately, and Sledge groans. “The girls were curious about your new toy. They thought she might be working at the salon or the spa.”

The salon and spa are two of the legitimate businesses we use to clean the money we make on our car rebuilds and transports. Considering we can’t exactly let the feds walk in and see the cars and bikes we gut and rebuild to hide drugs or guns for transports, we need clean businesses that we can cook the books on.

Too much shit goes on in both places for the possible spy to head in to work. Besides, she’d have access to Benny too easily if I let her out of my sight.

“She’s not working. Get your asses out of my space, and get downstairs. I’ll discuss this with you later.”

Colleen practically sprint out, Sarah skips away, and Sledge flips off their backs as he follows.

I glance over some of the clothes they’ve put in the closet. It’s a hell of a lot better than the preppy shit she has. The second the feds get a glimpse of her with her sweet-and-innocent grandma clothes, they’ll ask questions. They’re already going to be curious about a new girl.

“Eve,” I call, glancing at some of the sexy panties and bras the girls bought.

Much better than the old lady underwear she had on earlier. Even if she still looked plenty sexy.

I’m going to have more fun with her in lace.

“Yeah,” she says, suddenly right behind me.

I turn quickly, measuring her carefully. She’s wearing my shirt, and that forces me to arch a brow.

“Why were you hiding? And why are you wearing my shirt?”

She doesn’t look overly stressed out, which is disconcerting. After the hellacious day, she’d be freaking out if she was as sweet and innocent as I originally thought.

“I wasn’t hiding. I was trying to be respectful. I wasn’t given permission to speak to anyone else, and you mentioned that you hated my clothes. Since I had nothing else at the time, I borrowed a shirt in case you came back.”

What the…

Is she for real?

Emotionless. She’s so stoic that it’s actually a little creepy.

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears suddenly, and I tilt my head. “You look like you’re about to cry,” I murmur absently, still studying the soft green eyes.

It sort of pisses me off that she’s about to cry, because she seemed fine two seconds ago.

“I’m fine,” she lies, turning her head as she moves over to the dresser. “What would you prefer I wore?”

This whole master/servant thing isn’t doing it for me. “Whatever they bought. You just can’t wear your shit. Too many questions will rise. Now, tell me why you’re about to cry.”

I glare at her back, waiting for an answer. She was fine until I showed up, and I know for a fact I haven’t done shit to her. She sure as hell enjoyed herself earlier, and I asked repeatedly if it was all consensual.

“It’s just been an overwhelming day. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not going to cry,” she says with her back turned, her body close to shaking. “I’ve never seen anyone die, I left my family, and… I swear I’m okay. Don’t send me back to Benny.”

Her voice stays steady throughout that little explanation. Until she reaches the last sentence. That’s when it breaks.

Is she scared of Benny? Does he have something on her that I don’t know about? And how the fuck does she know him?

“So you’re doing this for your family,” I say, dropping to the bed as she selects a pair of cut-off shorts and a white shirt.

She swallows audibly while turning to face me. “Yes. You’re welcome to check my family’s financial history.”