Adrenaline Rush (Death Chasers MC 4)

Rush lights a cigar, bobbing his head to whatever get-it-up-for-the-killing music he’s listening to, as Sarah continues to stare expectantly at me.

“You’re riding with me,” she adds.

I’ve spent the week getting to hear some of Rush’s…tales. Sadly, I think he’s kept the gory details to a minimum, and I’m positive he’s holding back. Just what I’ve heard has had me turning over more and more control to him, simply because I can’t fucking stand it.

He’ll never be that boy again. He has too much blood on his hands, and the only warmth he seems to really show is toward me or Sledge. Mostly me, I’ve noticed.

He stayed because of me. I left him because he chose the club.

Life is too fucked up for me to even deal with right now, and I could have been doing it with him before he got this screwed up in the head.

Sarah tosses a hand up. Both Drex and Axle tell her bye.

They ignore my wave, resuming their tactical strategy session.

“Or maybe you have to be a homicidal maniac to have breasts and respect around here,” I mutter to myself, blowing a strip of hair out of my face, giving a little glare, and turning my head back around.

Just as my head faces forward again, a hand is firmly shoved in my hair before my eyes can focus on what’s in front of me. Rush’s lips come down on mine, even as the music blasting from his earbuds barely reaches my ears.

He pins me against the wall, kissing me harder as his arms go around my middle. This is his version of soft and romantic, I’ve learned.

My arms go around his neck as I fight the ridiculous, inappropriate smile that tries to spread across my lips.

One of his hands comes up, gingerly cupping my cheek. It’s a stark contrast from the firm, demanding kiss that is essentially devouring in nature.

He breaks the kiss abruptly, nipping my bottom lip when I find myself chasing his lips.

My eyes slowly blink back open, finding his gaze intently on me. “Stay with Sarah. Unless Sarah gets shot at. Then leave Sarah behind and get the fuck out of dodge. Understand?”

Licking my lips and clearing my throat, I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop talking to me like I’m a novice. I know how to exist in a first-world country with a corruptible government officials.”

He keeps me pinned in place with effortless ease when I try to push him back.

Icy eyes hold mine as an intense seriousness stays etched on his face.

He pulls out the single earbud he has left in, and I idly notice the music has stopped playing. “It’s a shit show out there,” he reminds me. “Run to the suburbs. The cops still give a damn if we fuck around there. No one’s going to shoot up the cardigan-wearing folks’ properties. At least not out in the open.”

I salute him like the smartass I am, and he gives me a bruising, punishing kiss as a result, before he abruptly steps away from me. I don’t realize my legs are a little unsteady until I pitch forward in the absence of him holding me up.

I watch as he puts the earbuds back in, and he drops to the couch in the back room of this terrible pool hall in the middle-of-nowhere outside of Halo.

“Curious minds can’t help but inquire what the two of you were doing in this shit hole,” Sarah says as I climb in on the passenger side of her hideous clown van.

“I was wondering the same thing,” comes a jarring, familiar woman’s voice from behind me.

I squeal as my head whips around to find Maya and Drake both lounging comfortably.

“What the hell are you doing back there?!” I snap without thinking, because my heart is racing and fear makes me a little angry, dammit.

Maya grins. Drake groans like he’s miserable.

“Eve’s confined to the warehouse, and Drake is supposed to be watching me at the warehouse,” Maya informs me. “Per Axle’s orders.”

“I fucking ink people. I’m not cut out to be the constant guardian of the uncontrollable vagina squad. I need better friends. My current ones are psychopaths with tits,” Drake continues, shaking his head. “I have a healthy fear of death. I rather enjoy living.”

Sarah drives off, stomping the gas so hard that I squeal and quickly face forward again. I reach for an oh-shit handle, but much to my heartbreak, there’s not one. Someone else has already ripped it off, because only two holes remain where it once was.

I settle for clinging to the seatbelt after I tighten it on me, just as her ass end slings to the side the second we hit pavement.

“I refuse to fucking die in a clown car. Don’t make this how it all ends for me. Even in death, I’ll never hear the fucking end of it,” Drake gripes from the back.