Axle's Brand (Death Chasers MC Series #3)

by C. M. Owens

  Sarah grabs her phone from her hip, rolling her eyes when she reads the screen, never moving her gun away from Smitty’s head.

  “Well, I just got a text saying fifteen or more guys from New York just crossed Halo’s borders a few minutes ago.”

  Smitty’s lips twitch when he arches an eyebrow at her.

  “I sort of hate you right now,” she tells him, but I talk over them before they can say more to each other.

  “Lathan isn’t at his warehouse. He’s got to be somewhere else near there, though,” I say as I dart inside.

  “Drex!” I shout down through the basement entrance of the warehouse.

  “What?”

  “Get every fucking drug dealer or drug runner we know on the phone, and find out where Lathan is, because he’s not at the other warehouse.”

  “Can it wait? We’ve kind of got a lot of other shit going on right this minute.”

  I start calling numbers, not bothering to answer.

  “Maya is missing. It can’t wait!” Sarah calls down for me.

  I don’t even hear what’s being said after that. I barely even notice Drex as he comes topside, a flurry of motion as he starts pulling out every phone number source we have.

  My heartbeat is in my ears, making it a struggle to even ask questions to the guys I actually have good rapport with. No one knows a Lathan.

  No one.

  Everyone has heard of him, but no one knows him.

  Smitty leans over a counter, looking as though he’s trying to compose himself. The fourteen militant men all drape around the counter, waiting on us to put forth the next move.

  That’s the moment I lose it.

  My phone tumbles out of my hand as I charge the asshole, and he turns just as my fist collides with his face. He’s thrown to the ground as Dash and Jude tackle my arms, holding me back.

  “You were supposed to protect her!” I shout at the fucking asshole on the ground, fighting like a caged animal to break free from their hold. “Two fucking days she’s been gone, and now you come to me?!”

  He wipes the blood from his lip, snarling as he stands. “I’ve been looking every-fucking-where for her. That warehouse was armed to the max, and we’ve been watching it for Lathan. I only came here to find out if you’d sold her out to him, and to pry information about where he might be.”

  Jude curses as he digs his feet in, and Dash yanks me back when I try to go after the son-of-a-bitch to rip his head off.

  “I sent her there to be safe!” I roar. “You’re her fucking family! You have men everywhere and money to buy even more! Why was one fucking guy supposed to be guarding her on his own?”

  Smitty just continues to stare at me like he wants me dead as badly as I want to kill him.

  “The entire fucking building is secure. It’s her Family’s building! Only one guy was in the rink, but twenty or more were on that floor. She doesn’t like a damn audience when she’s trying to de-stress. I force her to let one man be at her side. Twenty fucking men. There’s no way they could have gotten out!”

  “Unless someone trusted to be there didn’t raise suspicion and he took her out during a shift change,” Drex points out, phone still at his ear as he turns away and resumes his conversation.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I growl at Jude and Dash.

  “Not until you’re less murderous,” Jude snorts. “War, and all that.”

  “There’s going to be a fucking war if anything happens to her because you let some half-ass loyal son-of-a-bitch that close to her,” I say to Smitty.

  “Everyone on that floor was born into this world,” he defends, his face turning a furious red. “Every one of them is tied to her from birth. Either they saw her born or they grew up with her.”

  I stop fighting, breathing heavily as I think back to anything and everything Maya said when she was with me. She mentioned all the names of her closest protectors. The men she trusted with her life. None of them stand out.

  “No one went missing?”

  His jaw grinds. “Only my son went missing, but he has a small addiction of his own. Women. He was holed up in some hotel with one of his whores. Per the usual.”

  My veins run a little colder. “Where is he now?” I ask him, but Sarah plucks his phone out of his pocket before he can answer.

  “What are you—”

  “Where is he?” I interrupt Smitty as Sarah does something with his phone.

  Smitty faces me again, his jaw set. “Troy loves her. He’d never do this. They’ve been like brother and sister their entire lives.”

  “She has terrible luck with brothers,” Dash points out.

  “They tend to get jealous,” Jude adds.

  “Where is he?” I ask again through gritted teeth.

  “He wouldn’t be that stupid if he did something like that,” Smitty goes on. “He’d know better than to disappear, too. Someone would be setting him up. He’s still in New York.”

  Sarah walks back over, her creepy chipper-smile gone, and a dark expression on her face as she hands Smitty his phone. “Troy is twenty miles away,” she says tightly.

  Smitty just stares at her for a minute, before he has to stagger back.

  “No,” he says hollowly. “Even if he was that horrible, he wouldn’t be that stupid,” he goes on, talking more to himself than anyone else.

  “I don’t care if it starts a war. If I get my hands on your son, I’m killing him,” I bite out, then turn to Sarah. “Where’s the signal from?”

  “My guy is trying to pi it down, but I have a general location. He had to turn the phone on via remote access, then turn on the GPS via remote access, all from the number I got from Smitty’s phone. He did it fast. It won’t take—”

  “Got him,” Drex says, jogging up to us as he pockets his phone. “Nicholas is his runner. He only told me where to find him because I told him Lathan took Axle’s old lady and explained the highlights of the situation, minus the mafia thing.”

  He starts jogging out, and we all follow. Smitty’s men follow, but Smitty struggles to get up. I don’t have time to fucking wait on him to absorb it, so we leave without him.

  Drex yells at Drake as he pokes his head out of the tattoo parlor, telling him to keep an eye on shit. Then we’re gone, driving like hell through the mostly quiet streets as fast as we can go.

  Sarah is on the back of Dash’s bike as I pass them, racing to get beside Drex. My stomach is in knots, my heart is in my throat, and everything on me is throbbing.

  If she’s dead because I sent her back…

  I can’t even think about it. I just need to focus on finding her.

  Alive.

  CHAPTER 38

  MAYA

  Half of them have given up, the other half must work out a lot.

  Doubled over and heaving for a few bursts of air, I look around, seeing my small canyon-like crater coming to an end, stealing all that coverage with it. I keep tripping over rocks or bushes, and my body feels like it’s been banged to hell from the unforgiving ground, but I’m not ready to give up just yet.

  Lungs protesting, I start running again, ignoring the burn in my legs. Why couldn’t they have been in the back? Then I could have ran through the front and stolen a car instead of making a run for it.

  ATVs sound in the distance, coming for me. They can’t drive through the canyon, but they can sure as hell drive above it, looking for me. I duck behind more coverage, just as I’ve done on each of their sweeps.

  Once they’ve moved on, I start running again. I can see the solid, steep wall just ahead, and I whimper a little. How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?

  Loud, rapid gunfire echoes through the canyon, and I curse, diving to the side. It sounds too far away for the shots to be firing at me. Are they just hoping to make me scream so that I’ll give myself away?

  Lathan told them not to shoot at me, damn it.

  He needs my money before I’m allowed to die.

  More and more gunfire has me ques
tioning what’s going on. Especially when the ATVs suddenly take off in that direction.

  After several long minutes of a lot of gunfire, I peer around the edge, wondering how many are still chasing me.

  No one is there.

  The gunfire sounds like it’s coming from the direction of the house, and I look around, finding some roots poking through the canyon wall.

  Hoping like hell those extra five slices of pizza I’ve been having all week don’t break the damn roots out from under me, I start climbing them. Technically, I was starved for two days, since they sort of almost killed me, or whatever.

  Admittedly, the more height I gain, the more I start cursing the pizza. I also curse Lathan for how weak I feel. That running wouldn’t usually bother me. This climbing wouldn’t normally be an issue.

  But I’m hungry and thirsty, and my legs feel like gelatin right now. Half my stamina isn’t as good as all of my stamina when I’m at one-hundred percent.

  All at once, the gunfire ceases, and I peer over the top of the canyon, seeing it clear before hauling myself out. I’m tempted to go back and see if everyone is dead, but decide to keep running like hell.

  I’d rather get picked apart by buzzards than risk returning to capture.

  Lying on my back, I pant for air, ignoring the shooting pain through my side from the constant sprint for my life. Sheer determination has me pushing myself back up to my feet and stumbling my way into the desert.

  But then pain explodes against the side of my face with no warning, and the taste of blood fills my mouth as I cry out, falling hard to the ground.

  Weak from hours of running, and drained from exhaustion, dehydration, and hunger, I don’t have the strength to push myself up to my feet. I hover on my knees, digging deep for strength, when I feel a boot collide with my stomach.

  Pain lances through my core, and I get nauseous as I roll across the ground, my eyes closing and opening as I watch the black boots draw closer.

  “Maya is so strong,” comes a soft, taunting voice. “Dad always said that,” Troy tells me on a sigh. “She’s going to be an excellent Blackbird.”

  I spit out the blood, even though more merely pools in my mouth. I bit the hell out of my tongue when the dickhead punched me.

  “How strong are you now?”

  “Strong enough that I won’t beg for my life,” I say as I peer up. “Strong enough that I won’t ever tell you how to steal my Family’s money, no matter what Lathan does to me.”

  I spit out blood and wipe my mouth, my head swaying a little as I try to keep my attention trained on him and not allow myself to pass out.

  “Strong enough to run for hours after being drugged for two days,” I go on.

  Though, I think I can thank adrenaline for that. I’ve apparently exhausted my supply, because I’m reeeaaalllyy feeling that shit hardcore now, and there’s that whole dizzy and queasy thing just to put the miserable cherry on top.

  Not that I’ll tell him that.

  “And strong enough to look your father in the eye and tell him I had to kill his son for being a traitor.”

  He laughs humorlessly as I continue to hug the ground, waiting for another burst of adrenaline to save me at any damn time it feels froggy.

  Unfortunately, no such luck, and I see two laughing Troys, then one, then two again. My head feels like a big ball on a tiny stick, completely unbalanced and ready to tip over.

  I drop it back to the ground, unable to find another ounce of strength.

  “There’s that spunk Dad always boasts about. You know, you’re nothing more than a little girl with a big mouth. You amuse the men who actually matter. That’s all you are—a court jester.”

  A small smile toys with the edges of my lips. “You know as well as I do this court jester will be avenged. Just picture what Ezekiel or Ingrid will do to you when they find out you betrayed me.”

  I get to see his bravado doubly falter when he splits into two Troys again.

  “Not just that, Troy. I have other friends. Friends who might very well make the pain last for days. Friends who only know how to deliver pain. Friends who will make you wish you’d been born loyal instead of an entitled little prick.”

  He kicks me hard in the side, and I flop over onto my back from the force, grinning up at him as I start laughing.

  “What the hell is so fucking funny?” he roars.

  “I was so weak, that I couldn’t get the gun out of the front of my pants.” His eyes widen as I hold the gun up, concentrating on both of him. “Until you knocked me over. Thanks.”

  Since I can’t decide which fuzzy blur is actually him, I shoot both of him, hearing a cry of pain that tells me I hit the real one with one of those shots.

  But my head is spinning too hard, and I shoot again, trying to listen to where the sounds are coming from.

  Another cry of pain is forced out of me when he’s suddenly wrenching the gun away and kicking me hard again in the ribs. Definitely cracked some of those damn things.

  “Fucking bitch. You shot me!”

  “You betrayed me,” I bite out, hissing out a breath of pain.

  He grabs me by my hair, and I try to claw at his hand as he starts dragging me, cursing his bleeding wound—that apparently isn’t freaking fatal or too damaging—as he uses my hair like a handle.

  “Betrayal is cut and dried to you. Never mind what you do to all the people you step on to sit on your throne,” he growls.

  The pain in my scalp is borderline excruciating, and I struggle harder to free his hand from its death grip.

  “I didn’t step on anyone! Everyone knows what they sign on for!”

  He snorts. “Unless their father is my father. Then you get a doormat for the queen and act like you’re happy to do all the hard work, while she takes all the glory.” He pauses and stops walking. “What the hell is that sound? Is that a golf cart?”

  “No glory for the anonymous, you stupid son-of-a—”

  A loud shot silences my words, and the hand on my hair slowly releases its grip. Troy drops to the ground beside me, or at least I think so. Everything is still so blurry.

  I heave, retching as the nausea and dizziness finally win, and someone gingerly pulls my hair away from my face, running a soothing hand up and down my back.

  “Easy,” Sarah says, causing my entire body to relax when I hear her voice. “Couldn’t have been easy to make it this far. Just take a few deep breaths. I’ve got us a battery-powered, quiet golf cart less than fifty feet away.”

  I snort, sob, and laugh all at once, creating a terrible sound, but relief continues to pour through me.

  “I’ve already picked off all the ones who were still following you. Come on,” she says when I stop shaking and the retching ends.

  “If I could walk, I wouldn’t have been flopping around on the ground as he dragged me around by my hair,” I mumble as she helps me to my feet, grunting under my weight as I struggle to keep my legs from becoming jelly.

  “On second thought,” she grumbles, putting me back down gently. “I’ll drive the cart to you.”

  Again, I make that weird combination of sounds, every emotion determined to come out at once as she kneels in front of me, pushing my hair out of my face again.

  “Stay here,” she jokes, then winks as she darts off into the night.

  I glance over at the still body of a boy I used to play video games with. The boy was my brother. The man was far less impressive.

  Smitty will be devastated.

  “At least tell me I shot him somewhere good,” I say as Sarah pulls up beside me, the golf cart parked directly in front of me.

  I see the blur of her rustling around, pushing his body from side to side, and I ignore the sick feeling in my gut as I look away from a man I once called a friend.

  “Looks like you got him in the ass.”

  I groan, cursing the fact the first time I finally shot someone, it was in the ass. Bad girl problems.

  “You okay?” she asks as she
helps me into the seat.

  “As long as I pretend this is all one really twisted punchline for an ongoing joke, I won’t fall apart. It’s a coping mechanism. So start making really morbid jokes while my tears dry, because no one can see me broken.”

  My voice cracks on that last line, and she blows out a heavy breath. She knows the score better than anyone. Weak girls in our business get dead real quick. The weaker you look, the more people think they can kill you.

  CHAPTER 40

  AXLE

  The second we figured out Maya had made a run for it—made obvious by the amount of people scouring the land and shouting that they hadn’t found her—we started blowing shit to hell.

  Now Lathan is on his knees before me, blood smeared all over his face from the multitude of dead bodies piled up around him.

  His jaw stays tight, but his lip trembles as I kneel in front of him, cocking my head to the side.

  “You’re going to start a war if you kill me,” he snarls. “Phillip Jenkins will come after you. He will destroy you and your little fucking club.”

  I gesture around at his employees who are still being dragged in—all of them dead, or mostly dead, as they get dropped to random places. Couch. Chair. Dining room chairs.

  “It’ll be suspicious but not tied to us,” Sledge whispers to me, his back facing Lathan.

  I look up from my crouched position.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask Lathan. “We can’t cover up all these bullet holes. We’d be here for weeks with rotting corpses,” I go on. “But junkies die all the time from meth labs exploding. Now, anyone wise enough would notice the bullet holes if any body parts survive such an explosion. But let’s face it, no one would immediately consider us. Certainly not Phillip.”

  He narrows his eyes, knowing how right I am.

  “Besides, you Family people think we’re just brute strength and rough finesse,” I say with a dark smile, parroting Maya’s words from so long ago. “Why would we bother blowing the place up to cover our trail?”

  He swallows hard.