“Definitely not your usual type. But I don’t want her with you. She could be their spy.”
“I was already prepared for that. I have a list of fun things planned out for breaking her. Most of which will happen in the bedroom.”
It shouldn’t bother me—the girl is asking for it—but for some reason, the thought of Pop having her is making my stomach churn.
“She’s not your style, Pop. And for all we know, she could slit your throat in your sleep. I’ll keep her, see if I can find out what Benny’s up to. Besides, Benny doesn’t want me dead. It’s you he’s after right now. Let’s play this smart.”
His laughter creeps through the phone, and I can sense his smile.
“In other words, you want between the girl’s legs. Must be a looker. You’re lucky your old man has a soft spot for you, or I’d kick your ass for wanting what’s mine.”
I don’t say anything, because I sure as hell don’t want to push my luck. After a few minutes of silence, he releases a breath. “Fine. Take her. You haven’t ever asked for anything, so this once I’ll give you something. But don’t tell her a damn thing, and see if you can figure out what Benny is after.”
A lazy grin crawls into place as I turn back to face the brunette beauty who is still shaking, probably in shock. This is going to be fun.
“No worries.”
“And, Drex, if she fucks up, she’s dead. Understood?”
He doesn’t even need to ask that.
“I’ll put a bullet in her myself.”
Chapter 7
EVE
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we got here—his clubhouse. In fact, he’s barely taken his eyes off me since he met me.
The warehouse, if that’s what you can call it, is huge. As soon as you walk in, there’s nothing but wide open floor space full of couches, TVs, weird art work, and even a massive kitchen off to the side. The wall against the back has doors, but two are open, leading into a red lounge type room with carpet instead of concrete.
The building is tall, big enough to be considered three stories, but there only seems to be two floors, and there’s a metal, industrial-style balcony that wraps around the top, guiding the way to several doors along the path.
Large concrete columns are strategically placed along the lower level, and several large rugs are resting in various areas over the concrete floor. None of them match, but then again, neither does any of the furniture. Even the dining room table has random chairs shoved under it—and that’s one hell of a massive table.
There are several sets of stairs, but Drex leads me up a set that isn’t too far from the entryway, keeping me from prying farther. I follow silently, acting like the good little gift I am.
As I go, I ignore the curious eyes of the numerous men around. My eyes flick to a wall at the other end, all the way across from us, and I see several large garage doors that are open.
Motorcycles and cars are parked all in it, and I half wonder why Drex parked his outside instead of in there. But my thoughts are cut off as we reach a room.
It’s a large room, and once we’re inside, the sound of the door shutting is almost deafening, because we’re alone. My life is changing, and it’s changing quickly.
Is he going to leave me here for his father?
I shudder discreetly, hoping I don’t get sick. Waves of nausea crash against me, battering me from the inside, but I do my best to remain an external picture of composure.
Even though this room is big, there’s not a lot in it. One large dresser, one large closet, a massive bed, several odd angles—that could be perfect for hiding—and what appears to be a bathroom.
The walls are cold and hard, just like Drex.
Drex is the Vice President and son of Herrin—President of the Death Dealers—and I’m actually surprised. I’m surprised about Drex being VP, not Herrin being President.
Drex is maybe in his late twenties, but he doesn’t look anything like what I expected a VP to look like. He doesn’t look polished, but he doesn’t look like he just rolled out of bed either.
This isn’t the type of MC that just hangs out and loves to ride together on occasion. This isn’t the happy-go-lucky type of group that look like killers but are secretly Teddy Bears. No. This is an organization, a business, and an elite team of criminals who have banded together, just like the Hell Breathers. And now I know for a fact that they’re killers.
Coldhearted killers.
These are the lethal criminals; motorcycles just happen to be involved.
Drex isn’t bearded like some of them. He has just enough stubble to pull off that slacker sexy. His soft, dark hair is short on the sides, almost buzzed, but the top is long enough to run your fingers through and have something to tug. Though the only reason I want to tug it is to use it as a handle to hold him still while I knee his balls and run away.