Property Of Drex #2 (Death Chasers MC #2) (19 page)

Chapter 32

EVE

Unable to resist, I unlock and open the door, walking out onto the steel platform in front of the staircase and look down at the standoff below as Herrin and Drex stand toe-to-toe.

Drex looks eerily calm, while Herrin looks murderous. This can’t be good.

Silence is almost deafening as the entire room full of men below stare at the father and son. Something tells me this isn’t just a typical family dispute.

Rush looks up, catching my spying, and he narrows his eyes at me. I don’t move. I’m sick of being in the dark and coddled like I’m too fragile. I chose Drex. I chose this. It’s time to prove I can handle whatever this world has to offer.

“Benny wants to form an alliance,” Herrin finally says through clenched teeth. “A large portion of his men have joined his son’s mutiny. He was oblivious to it until a number of his guys went missing after
you
started declaring war without my consent. An alliance is smart on our part, considering Ben wants what we have—our business secrets.”

Drex’s business secrets. Not Herrin’s. Something tells me that not even Herrin knows how Drex and the guys create the shady cars.

Drex crosses his arms over his chest.

“That’s all this meeting yielded? No stipulations? No promises you shouldn’t have made?” Drex asks him emotionlessly.

Herrin continues glaring. “Tongue, boy. Don’t make me cut it out.”

A ghost of a smile actually appears on Drex’s lips after hearing his father’s threat. It’s a scary smile. Not a pleasant one.

Rush’s eyes meet mine again, and he silently implores me to get out of the line of view. I can almost hear him screaming in my head that shit is about to go down. But I stay fixed in place, watching, listening, waiting…

“We just had an assassin in here that
you
weren’t aware of. Obviously I don’t trust your judgment as much as I used to,” Herrin says, confusing the hell out of me. Drex’s faint, scary smile turns dark and defined.

“My judgment is the one in question? I’ll play along. As far as Sarah goes, I’m not concerned about her. She could have killed anyone in our crew at any time. But—”

“Of course you’re not concerned,” Herrin says, but I’m still stuck on the Sarah thing. Assassin? A freaking assassin? No way. Sarah is too sweet to be a killer. “Whatever her name is, she’s now a Death Dealer enemy. She knows too much, since your boys don’t shut their holes around their women.”

He snarls in Snake’s direction, but Snake looks like a stone statue of zero emotion. I’ve never seen him be as cold as Drex until recently… Now it makes sense… Even though it’s still confusing the hell out of me.

Snake is not himself, Sarah is missing, and Drex is asking me secret assassin background questions… Holy blindside.

“You really want to declare war on an assassin who has a reputation for putting a bullet in anyone who goes after her? Until recently, we thought AJ was a mythical man. Now you want to go after the person who could probably kill you without so much as getting within a hundred yards of you? Not smart, Pops. Not smart at all.”

Herrin grabs Drex’s shirt, but Drex bats his hand away and shoves at Herrin’s chest. Sledge dives between the two and puts a hand on either of their chests to hold them apart.

“That’s the last time you disrespect me,” Herrin growls. “You’re no longer VP.”

“That has to be put to a vote, Pop. Or did you forget that?” Drex asks in a lethally calm tone as Sledge slowly steps away. “You seem to keep forgetting this isn’t a dictatorship. You seem to keep forgetting this isn’t
your
club. It’s
our
fucking club. It’s called the Death Dealers. Not Herrin’s Bitch Brigade.”

Laughs are smothered, and forced coughs follow the muffling of chuckles as everyone tries to recompose themselves.

Herrin definitely looks ready to kill his own son. Very slowly, Herrin puts on a mask, turning cold like Drex as though they have icy suits on hand when needed.

“Collect the bitch we came for. She’s become a liability,” Herrin says to someone beside him. “I can’t wait to put a bullet in her for all the fucking trouble she’s caused me.”

Eyes immediately find me on the ledge, and I swallow hard at the knot in my throat. Drex doesn’t flinch, which really freaks me out.

“If anyone touches my girl, I will make sure you know what it feels like to drown in acid. It’s my favorite method, in case anyone has forgotten,” Drex says carelessly, watching as several indecisive looks pass between the people there.

I back against the wall, but I can still see them all going over the pros and cons of who to listen to.

“I said fucking collect her,” Herrin bites out, not taking his eyes off Drex.

Drex smirks before cracking his neck to the side.

“No one here is that stupid, Pop. She has my name on her. She’s mine. They know it. Do you really think anyone is suicidal enough to walk into my warehouse and fuck with my girl?”

Herrin’s cold façade slowly vanishes when more and more anger builds, turning his face a scarier shade of red by the second.

“Benny’s alliance hinges on that girl finding a cold grave. She’s his son’s fucking friend. This isn’t your warehouse. It’s mine. It’s all mine, Drex. Including her. I put her on loan to you. Maybe I’ll see what all the fuss has been about.”

My heartbeat slams into my ears when Drex’s hands go from crossed over his chest to holding two guns—one pointed at Herrin, and the other pointed at the one they call Hershel—in less than a breath.

Herrin’s eyes widen marginally, and Hershel pauses his hand on his gun, not risking pulling it out. Guns get drawn all around, but it’s like no one is sure who to aim at as allegiances and loyalties get distorted. Except for Drex’s friends. They’re all holding guns on Herrin and Hershel.

“So it comes to this?” Herrin snarls. “Over a piece of pussy? Guess I have more in common with Benny than I realized. That girl is nothing but toxic waste.”

“It’s not just about her, Pop,” Drex says coldly. “I almost died because of you putting yourself first. This club hasn’t been your priority in years. And as for you giving a damn about anyone other than yourself, well, I think I’ve finally woken up and seen the truth about why Kara has been on the run for years. Now you want to take my girl like you have the right? You think any other man in here would allow that?”

“Take those off. You don’t deserve to wear our colors,” Herrin spits out. “I don’t want you wearing them when they put a bullet through your head right in front of your whore.”

Drex tenses ever so slightly when Herrin looks up at me, letting Drex know I’m up here and watching the horror show go down. Then he looks back at Drex and steps into the gun until the barrel is pressed against his head.

“Pull the trigger. Start the war. Go ahead, Drex. Pull the fucking trigger,” Herrin dares.

Drex’s finger hesitates on the trigger, and I stop breathing altogether. Pretty sure I’m not the only one holding my breath.

The hand holding the gun on Hershel moves fast, and the crunching sound of metal against skull rings out as Herrin’s head jerks to the side. Drex just punched his father with a gun hard enough to knock the bastard out.

When Herrin falls to the floor motionless, everyone looks at everyone, but nobody speaks or moves.

“If you’re going with him, I suggest you leave now. Otherwise, I may just start fucking shooting anyone I think agrees with him,” Drex says in a low growl.

He takes his Death Dealers cut off and tosses it in front of him, and I watch as everyone continues to do nothing but stare.

“And take that with you. If being a Death Dealer means being dictated by a liar and a coward, I’m out. I’m also taking my business with me. Good luck figuring out our secrets as to how we make shit work. As for this warehouse? Check the fucking name on the deed. It’s property of Drex Caine. Now get the fuck out if you’re a Death Dealer. You’re not welcome.”

He puts his guns away, but Dash and the others keep their guns trained on Hershel and a few men near him. Snake is the only one not holding a gun. He looks like he couldn’t care less about anything going on right now.

Hershel leans over and snatches up the cut Drex just tossed down, and another guy joins him to help lift Herrin to his feet, even though he’s just dead weight.

“He’ll kill you for this,” Hershel growls.

“He can try,” Rush retorts, pulling his own cut off very awkwardly as he keeps his gun pointed on Hershel. With one hand, he tosses the cut at the man’s feet.

As if it starts a tidal wave, numerous others start doing the same thing, taking off their cuts and launching them at the feet of the unconscious man. Death Dealer cuts go from sacred to blasphemous in less than a breath, and I watch in awe as everyone in the warehouse chooses a side.

Only twelve men move to be with Hershel and Herrin. The others stand around in T-shirts.

“What about you?” Hershel asks, glaring at Sledge who seems to be lost in thought.

“I’ve been sick of Herrin since the day he put a hit out on his own daughter,” Sledge says gruffly, tossing his own cut into the pile. “Just never had anywhere else to be. Looks like shit has changed.”

Hershel looks like he’d prefer to be shooting anyone without a Death Dealer logo on them somewhere, but he’s stuck holding up the unconscious asshole.

“This is Death Dealer territory. You can’t be—”

“Come for us, Hershel,” Rush says in a chilling way that has goosebumps pebbling on my skin. “I dare you. Come for us and make us leave if you have the balls. You know damn well you don’t want me off my leash, and with Herrin gone, there won’t be anyone here to keep me from filling you full of bullets in no-kill places before finally unloading a magazine right into your eyes. Halo is ours. Not yours.”

The graphic imagery has my stomach churning, but I remain frozen to my spot. Drex stares at his father’s limp body and the small trickle of blood coming from the side of his head where he hit him. There’s no expression of remorse. If anything, he looks like he’s proud.

“If you stay, you can’t have any contact with Death Dealers,” Drex states without looking at anyone. “If you do, I’ll kick you out on your ass. Halo is ours, like Rush said. No Death Dealers are to step foot in it. Stay in Culvan, or deal with me. We all know how I do shit.”

A few rumbles of laughter sound out as though Drex has made a joke. I’m still playing catch up.

Hershel isn’t laughing. Neither are the men still in Death Dealer cuts. Hershel decides to quit staring at Drex like he can intimidate him, and turns to help carry Herrin out. I finally take a deep breath into my starving lungs as my entire body starts to tremble. It’s not until I hear the sounds of the bikes roaring out of the garage that my legs give out and I sink to the platform.

Drex swore he’d keep me safe. To keep his promise, he just left the one thing that meant the world to him—his club. He disowned his own father. He saved me.

If I was on my own, I’d be dead right now.

“Make sure they didn’t leave Pop’s bike behind,” Drex tells someone. “If they did, set the bitch on fire.”

Hoots, whistles, and celebratory sounds of all kinds ring out as people go on like death wasn’t just staring them down. Drex just risked his own life, and he didn’t even know how many people would back him.

“So are we starting a new club?” someone pipes in as beers start getting passed out.

Drex has his back to me, and I watch as he speaks to Snake too low for me to hear.

“Hell yeah we are,” Dash says with a grin.

More celebratory sounds break out, but I barely notice. My eyes are fixed on Drex’s back until I see a familiar face whirling around in an electronic wheelchair with one cast-covered leg sticking straight out. The other cast-covered leg is bent normally and resting where it’s supposed to.

With shaky legs, I slowly make my way to the bottom of the stairs just as Drake stops in front of them with a cocked eyebrow.

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day Drex Caine loved a girl. Guess hell just froze over and the devil is getting a fur coat.”

“I can’t believe that just happened,” I say quietly, ignoring the part about his assumption Drex loves me.

I slowly sit down on the bottom step while Drake ruffles the hair on my head like I’m his kid sister.

“It’s not that surprising,” he says with a shrug. “Organized crime has a formula. You get a shady, high-income business, then you clean the money using your legit businesses. Usually you find something you all bond and go bromantic over. Some have gambling rings, some have poker night, and some ride motorcycles with pretty little matching cut-off vests. One thing they all have in common: everyone wants everyone dead. The end. I just want to put some ink on people. How the fuck I got dragged into this, I don’t know.”

I half laugh, half groan, while scrubbing my face with my hands.

“Are you going to be a member of the new club?” I joke, trying my damnedest to not let the gravity of the situation sink me.

“Never,” Drake scoffs. “I like my clothes to be more original,” he adds, causing me to laugh lightly, even though I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.