Clutched (Wild Riders) (10 page)

“Nice job today,” I told her when we wrapped up on the track. “We should be good to go next week for the exposition.” Throttled was planning a small exposition for super fans and investors who wanted to see what Chayse could do. It was also going to be a great opportunity for Brett's return to freestyle. Plus, Reid would be back doing what Reid did best. Riding and being the proverbial face of the brand.

“I hope so,” she said. “I'm not going to lie... I'm nervous.” No more nervous than I was. Next week we'd both be under the microscope.

“Take the weekend off,” I suggested. We usually rode on Saturdays, but I didn't see the harm in an extra day off. I needed a break and I was sure she did too. Besides, I needed some space from her if I was going to get her out of my head.

“Really?” She seemed skeptical.

“Really,” I assured her. “Go home for the weekend. Just unwind and then we'll hit it hard on Monday.”

“I'm not going home. My mom probably isn't even around. Last I heard she was shacking up with a new guy. I wouldn't even know where to go.”

“Oh.” Hearing about her mother I was starting to realize that she had a shitty family on both sides. Every time her dad's name was mentioned she looked like she might throw up and now there was a tremor in her voice that said she might cry when she talked about her mother. I wanted to reach out and pull her into my arms but that would have defeated the entire purpose of this weekend. We needed space. We needed time apart, not moments of comfort and sharing our feelings. “Maybe out with friends then. It's your time, do whatever you want.”

She nodded. As I started to walk away, she spoke up. “Taking the turns lower was a good idea.”

I wanted to look back over my shoulder at her, but I knew the smile on my face would be like saying “I told you so.” We'd been getting along so well on the track lately that I didn't want to risk sounding or looking like a dick. Besides that, she was the one riding the bike. I was just her coach. So I just nodded, gave her a thumbs up, and walked away.

* * *

“W
hat is this place?” I asked James, the head of maintenance from Mill Valley. He and a few of the other guys that worked at the complex had been asking me to hang out with them since I'd gotten into town. With my brother on the road and Brett laid up for another several weeks back in Halstead, I figured it was as good of a time as any to make new friends. The riders all seemed to be afraid of me or at least intimidated. James, on the other hand, walked right up and introduced himself. He seemed like a nice enough guy and I was tired of sitting at home with my thoughts – and my own hand – every night.

“It's called The Sticks,” he said as I pulled up to what looked like an abandoned barn. He'd been giving me directions the entire drive and I was starting to think he was all set to murder me when we pulled on to a gravel road.

“Seems appropriate,” I said with a laugh. We'd driven for twenty minutes to the middle of nowhere. The parking lot was dirt and one dim light was trying to shine on the sign that was affixed to the front of the building.

“There's a band playing tonight that's really good,” he said. “The whole back of this place is open and there's an outdoor stage. It's pretty cool once you get past the misleading facade. But, yeah... it looks pretty sketchy from here.”

I followed him in and he was right. It was an outright party. Live music, booze, and a good ole dose of southern charm. We stopped by the bar first and picked up some drinks before we headed over to where the rest of the guys from Mill Valley were standing. A few of them had brought their girlfriends and wives. The others were on the prowl—their eyes roaming over every woman that walked by. As we waited for the band to start, I tried to get my head in the game.

After giving myself an internal pep talk, I managed to make eye contact with the blonde waitress that kept asking if we needed refills. She was pretty enough and seemed to be paying a bit more attention to me than the rest of guys. I'd smiled a couple times when she walked by and she'd done the same. Every bat of her lashes was saying that she was interested in more than just serving me alcohol.

“Hey there, I'm Hoyt,” I told her when she brought me another beer. I extended my hand to her.

“Lexi,” she said, handing me a napkin from the front of her apron. I took it and she walked away, but not before she trailed her fingertips up and down my arm. When I looked down I could see that she'd written out her phone number and a message.

My shift ends at ten.

There was a tiny heart followed by her name,
Lexi
.

That was easy enough.

This had been my plan tonight. Go out, meet a girl, forget about Chayse. Blonde wasn't really my preferred choice but I'd make it work. I was much more into brunettes these days. Brunettes with fiery attitudes, more specifically. Brunettes that I couldn't have.

“Having a good time?” James yelled over the music. The band had started up a few minutes ago, playing covers of popular country songs and a few originals. They were pretty good and the venue was great. I still couldn't stop myself from wishing I was someplace else.

“Yeah,” I lied. “This place is great.”

“Make a new friend?” he laughed when Lexi walked by again and winked at me.

“Something like that.” I shrugged. “We'll see.”

“Looks like it's Mill Valley night here tonight.” He pointed across from where were standing to a group of people. “The whole gang's here.” I immediately recognized a few of the riders in the mix. The majority of the faces were unknowns and, from what I could tell, undesirables. Tattoos and leather as far as the eye could see. If I was a betting man, I'd wager that the string of chopshop motorcycles parked outside belonged to them. Judging from the amount of alcohol and smoke surrounding them, I'd also bet that they tended to wreak havoc wherever they went.

“Looks like your girl is having a little bit too much fun,” James said just as I spotted her. A pair of tight jeans stretched across her ass. Her body glistened with sweat, as one of her tank top straps slid down her shoulder, threatening to reveal more than she was already revealing. Her long dark hair pulled into a ponytail, whipping around to the beat of the music as she danced wildly among the strangers. Hands pawed at her. Eyes watched her every move. She didn't seem to mind that she was smack dab in the middle of chaos. In fact, it appeared that she was reveling in it. Her body swayed to the rhythm of the band's take on
Pour Some Sugar On Me
and all I could see was red.

The sting of bile coated my throat as I watched her place her hands on one of the guys who'd been trying to get her attention. She rocked into him and the smile on his face said he was enjoying it a little bit too much. The son of a bitch even had the audacity to look at his buddies and give them a wink as if to say he had landed his piece of ass for the night.

I don't fucking think so, pal.

“Where are you going?” I heard James call out as I made a beeline to her. The voices of those around her were muted by my fury as I grabbed her arm and turned her toward me. The ass hat she was dancing with started to protest. Luckily, another drunk girl swooped in and took Chayse's place in his arms and his attention.

Chayse didn't even seem to notice that she was dancing with someone else. Her body pushed up against mine in a way that I'd only imagined. And I couldn't even enjoy it. She stretched her arms up and around my neck as the rhythm slowed. The band's take on an R&B classic seemed to give her all kinds of ideas about how we should be dancing and it was giving me all kinds of ideas about how we should not. Even though it felt amazing to hold her that close to me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I said, lowering my mouth to her ear and trying not to cause any more of a scene than I already had.

“Dancing,” she replied. Her eyes were glazed over and barely opened. I looked around at the group of bystanders—all now paying attention to their own drinks and dates. “Dance with me, Hoyt,” she purred into my ear. At least she knew who I was. Which was more than I could say for the man I currently was. Anger and jealousy were coursing through my veins faster than any adrenaline ever had. I hated the way they were staring at her. I hated that she had put herself into this situation. I hated that she had put me into this situation.

Her hips moved against mine and I tried to stop her by placing my hands on her waist. All it did was let me feel the curves of her body. One of her hands trailed down my chest as she rocked against me in all the right places. I could dance with her for one song, right? One song wouldn't hurt anything.

Yes.

Yes it would.

One more second of being with her this way was going to shove any resolve I had right out the door. I could feel the closeness of her lips on my neck and knew that wouldn't be long before she started getting ideas about what this one dance meant.

“Let's go,” I said, dropping my hands from her waist and taking one of her hands in mine. She resisted, but only momentarily. I had a feeling the look in my eyes told her I was dead serious. Whether she was drunk or high, surely she could still see it.

“What's up, man,” Link Hoffman stepped into my exit path. “Are you leaving? Chayse?” He turned his attention to her when he saw that I had her hand. “I can take you home, babe.”

Babe?

“I don't think so,” I said, pushing past him and pulling her along with me. His voice called to us clear out into the parking lot and when we could finally hear above the noise, Chayse pulled me to a stop.

“I rode with Link,” she mumbled, jerking her hand from mine.

“Well, you're riding home with me,” I said through gritted teeth. Of course he'd brought her here. I knew he was bad news the second I saw him.

“I can take her home,” Link said when he finally caught up to us.

“I'm sure you can,” I said, stepping toward him and placing myself between him and her. “But it's not going to happen. And you can bet your ass that tomorrow I'm reporting to Pilsner that you were here.”

“You’re gonna tattle on me? What are we, twelve? I'm twenty-one, dude,” he said with smirk that made me want to punch him that much more. “I have permission to be out. I'm allowed to go to a bar.”

“We'll she's not,
dude,
” I reminded him. “She's a minor. You might not give a shit about your career, but she has a lot on the line.”

“It was her idea to come here. And, I've been keeping an eye on her. I've only had like three beers.”

“That was keeping an eye on her?” I scoffed as I pointed towards the bar. “Good fucking job, buddy.” I turned back to Chayse who was swaying behind me. “Let's go.”

“I'm fine,” she said. “I'm not ready t—” She stumbled forward, falling into my arms before she hit parking lot. Her eyes fell shut the second she was in my arms.

“You're ready.”

I tucked her into the passenger seat of my truck, while Link continued to try to plead his case.

“I promise I wasn't going to let anything happen to her. I would have gotten her home safe and sound.”

“Get out of my face,” I said, closing the truck door. “Before I drop you on your ass. I'm done fucking around with you.”

I saw him bring his hands to his head in frustration and the worried look in his eyes as I climbed into the driver's seat. He had every right to be concerned. Come Monday morning, Nick would be getting a heated phone call from me about Hoffman... among other things.

* * *

W
hen I'd finally managed to get her into her trailer and tucked into her bed, I tried to remind myself that I had no claim over her. I had no reason, other than as her coach, to be concerned for her well-being. As pissed off as I was at her for being in that place tonight, I blamed myself.

I was the one who told her to go out and blow off some steam. Staring down at her sleeping so peacefully, looking like a hot mess in smeared mascara and tangled hair, I wanted to sit there all night and make sure she was safe. I wanted to be there when she woke up and hand her a bottle of water and an aspirin. I wanted to take care of her.

But that was another thing I couldn't, or at least shouldn't, do. That was the kind of thing a boyfriend did. And it was exactly the kind of thing that could get me fired.

I sat there for a few hours and made sure that she was not going to get sick. She slept soundly, aside from the occasional snore that I somehow manage to find endearing. When I thought she was in the clear, I slipped out the door and drove myself home.

Not that I'd be able to sleep.

M
y phone vibrated from my back pocket, stirring me from sleep. I opened my eyes. Barely. It was still dark outside and I could practically feel the booze oozing from my pores.

What did I do?

I remembered Hoyt saying I should take the weekend off. I'd asked Link if he wanted to hang out. The two of us had decided to go to some out of the way bar with some of the others riders from Mill Valley. It had been fun. I think. The night was a blurry mix of memories.

Drinking. Laughing. Dancing.

Three things that I enjoyed doing before this contract with Throttled shoved a set of rules in my face. Rules that I said “to hell with” last night apparently. Judging from the pounding in my head I'd told those rules to fuck right off.

I wrestled my phone from the tight pocket of my jeans and rolled onto my back. The bright light shining in my face wasn't helping my headache as I unlocked the screen. It was seven-thirty at night. I'd slept for almost an entire day? Nothing like wasting daylight. I should have been getting in a few extra hours of practice in. Hoyt may have given me the time off, but I should have used it more wisely than sleeping. I could have at least went to the gym.

I pulled up the call log to see who had been blowing my phone up.
Link
.

I pushed the call button and while it as ringing I tried to remember exactly how I ended up in my bed. It had to be Link.

“It's about time,” he said instead of the normal phone greeting. “What the hell have you been doing?”