“Let me know when he dies so I can piss on his grave to pay my respects,” I say with a tight smile.

He rolls his eyes. “One day that temper is going to land you in the grave or in the pin.”

I flip him off while smiling, and he shakes his head like I’m a petulant child. Rush walks in, letting his eyes move between me and Pop before taking a seat near me. Pop is speaking to Sledge now, and I do something I haven’t done since I saw Eve a week ago.

“What’s the report on Eve and her family?”

The reason I haven’t asked is because all it does is fucking torture me and piss me off. She’s in a rat-hole motel and cleaning up after prostitutes and guys who could make my morals seem valued.

“Same for the past week,” he says quietly, escaping Pop’s ears. “No sign of the feds since the sweat bag ran them off from there. And Drake just picked up her for—”

“The fuck did you just say?” I growl, interrupting him and drawing attention to our conversation.

His eyebrows go up. “Drake just picked her up. The same routine she’s had all week. He picks her and drops her off at—”

The rest turns to static as I flip my chair over while leaping up and digging my keys out of my pocket on my way out the door. Pretty sure Pop is yelling for me, but he can fuck off. No way did I hear Rush right.

Drake is stupid but not suicidal. He put my name on her himself.

White hot rage shoots up my spine, and I squeal out of the hangar while hauling ass away from the warehouse. Blue lights flash when I pass a patrol car, but they die instantly when they get a look at my cut. I don’t slow down until I’m skidding into Drake’s tattoo parlor’s parking lot. His bike is here, so he’d better fucking be here.

And Eve had better not fucking be here.

Dash’s eyebrows go up in confusion when he sees me, and he stands from his seat just outside the door. I ignore him and throw the door open. Drake is hunched over a body, tattooing a guy who looks like a stockbroker.

He doesn’t even flinch as he looks up, but a slow smile spreads.

“Hello, sunshine. Was wondering when you’d show up,” he drawls.

I glare at him, but my entire body tenses when I hear her voice.

“Drex?”

I turn around to see Eve lounging on a couch in the side room like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do. My eyes flip back to Drake, and the stupid fucker winks at me.

Just as I stalk toward him, a strong hand clamps down on my shoulder.

“Not what you’re thinking,” Dash groans, trying to pull me back.

The stockbroker shakes in his chair, eyes wide as I shrug Dash off. Drake slowly stands, still smiling and inviting death to come his way.

“Don’t make me add a lily that says ‘cunt cream’ to complement that sweet daisy you had covered up,” Drake goads, still fucking smiling.

“Drex!” Eve’s voice cuts through the air like a knife, and she’s suddenly in front of me. “What’s your problem?”

I glare down at her, while Dash tries to place himself between me and Drake. Guess I’m hitting them both. As soon as I get Eve out of the way without touching her, that is. Touching her leads to kissing her and possibly fucking her, then dragging her back into hell with me.

“Move, Eve.”

She glares defiantly up at me, making me actually miss the days she was scared of me.

“No. What the hell is your problem?”

“This is my fucking problem!” I gesture between her and Drake, and she cocks an eyebrow at me. “The hell are you doing with him?”

She actually fucking smiles. “Are you jealous?”

Drake chokes on a laugh but smothers it quickly while turning away. Dash covers his mouth to hide his smile.

Eve continues to beam up at me, and I curse while stepping back.

“Come on. I’m taking you home.” Still careful not to touch her, I motion for her to walk out, but she just crosses her arms over her chest as her smile dies.

“No. I work here. And last I checked, you kicked me out of your life, so you no longer have a say in what I do.”

I groan again while scrubbing my face with my hands. She fucking works here? Hell no. Someone is getting their ass kicked for not telling me this shit.

“Your girl is badass. Didn’t know she was an artist,” Drake goes on. The buzzing resumes as he goes back to tattooing the douchebag in the chair.

Eve stiffens, and I cock my head to the side. She’s an artist?

“I’m not his girl anymore,” she says quietly, clearing her throat as she pulls her shirt up her arm to cover the tattoo she apparently has exposed when I’m not around.

Tags: C.M. Owens Death Chasers MC Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net