Bad Boy's Last Race (13 page)

The kitchen door bangs open again. “Oh! Hi, um . . . everyone!” Darla raises an eyebrow at Jagger and Elena, but then she shrugs, sets her laptop bag down by the door, and kicks off her heels. “Are you all staying for dinner?”

In that brief moment where she’s still confused but smiling, it kills me. She has no idea what’s wrong; she welcomes my friends into her home without a second thought when she should be suspicious as hell. I hate that I’ve brought this shit onto her. Onto her whole family. I thought I was escaping Tyler, but I’ve led him right into her peaceful existence, and now, they’re going to be pawns in his ridiculous game.

Tyler is going to control me. Whether I’m with him or not, he will find a way. There’s nowhere I can go. Nowhere I’ll be safe. And the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can keep them safe.

Elena crouches down next to Jack. “Hey, buddy, you want to help me fix some dinner?” she asks. “We can make something really delicious for your mom. Give her and your aunt some time to talk.”

Jack looks from Elena to me, suspicious. “Okay,” he says reluctantly.

Lennox hoists Ella up into the air. “And you can help, too.”

Jagger slides his sunglasses onto his shirt. “I can . . . um . . . set the dishes?”

I reach for Darla’s hand. “Let’s talk.”

* * *

D
arla is
, understandably, hysterical when I take her to the study and explain to her what happened. “You can’t let that monster anywhere near my kids,” she says, her low voice no less forceful as she tries to keep her words quiet so the kids won’t hear. “I don’t blame you one bit for what happened before—that’s on him. But there’s got to be some way to keep him away now. You’d best figure it out.”

“You don’t understand, sis. There’s no stopping him.”

“Oh, I know ways to stop him,” Darla says. “You can march your ass downtown and file for a restraining order. Better yet, get yourself a fucking handgun. You want to claim self-defense, honey, you won’t hear a word to the contrary out of me.”

I slide my fingers through my hair. I’ve run through all these scenarios countless times—even tried a few of them out. Doesn’t she get that? No. Of course not. She has no idea what it’s like to feel this trapped. “It’s never that simple with Tyler. He has a way of pulling all kinds of strings. The restraining orders always manage to get denied. The background checks for the gun . . .”

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. How many times have I dreamed of killing him? Of finally escaping him for good? I’d finally thought I was free—that I was starting over here in Ridgecrest. But I’ll never be free.

Darla presses her lips into a thin line. “Well, if you won’t do it, I will.” Her dark eyes glint. “I have to protect my family.”

“Just—just let me think,” I beg her. “I know there’s got to be some way for me to be rid of him. There has to be something I haven’t thought of yet.” But what it is, I have no idea.

Darla sighs. “Then you better figure it out quick. A situation like this—if you don’t fix it, it’ll find a way of fixing itself far worse.”

* * *

E
lena and Lennox
put together a proper feast for all of us—spaghetti in red meat sauce and garlic bread. Jack and Ella love it, and by the time they polish off the garlic bread, Jack’s adventure with Tyler is all but forgotten. Even Darla looks more relaxed after her second glass of red wine, though she now knows far more about classic muscle cars from Elena than I bet she ever thought she’d want to know.

Then there’s Jagger, squeezing my hand under the table when I need the reassurance, helping me clean up the dishes afterward, planting the softest kiss against the crown of my head. Tyler has always been the stick I ran from, but Jagger is nothing but carrot. He somehow manages to find stories about races clean enough to tell in front of the kids, and by the end of dinner, I think Jack and Ella both want nothing more than to race cars with Jagger, too.

And me? I want to ride off into the sunset with him. That easy smile and steady reassurance and, okay, fine, even his cocksure swagger turn me on. Here’s a guy who doesn’t need to flash a badge or get his ego stroked by the law enforcement system to feel powerful. He radiates it from within.

Lennox and Elena excuse themselves to head home once dishes are done, and Jagger and I head toward my apartment over the garage to let Darla spend time with her kids. As soon as we get in the door, I sink into his arms, utterly drained.

“Hey. Soph. You’re okay now.” He wraps his arms around me and nestles his nose in my hair. “It’s going to be all right.”

I nod and burrow deeper into his arms. But he can’t guarantee that. He can’t kiss it and make it all better, or bury it with a good meal. “I don’t know how to stop him,” I whisper. “And until I figure it out, no one’s safe. Not Darla and the kids. And certainly not you.”

Jagger’s muscles tense as he frowns, but he doesn’t argue the point. “I’m sticking with you, Soph. No matter what.”

“But you don’t understand.” Tears threaten to spill from the corners of my eyes. “As long as I’m with you, he’s going to keep going after you, too,” I say. “I should leave. Take my Tyler problems elsewhere with me.”

“You really think that’ll fix anything?” Jagger asks.

“It’ll keep him away from your crew. From Darla’s family. Maybe if I’m his only target . . .”

“No.” Jagger eases his hold on me and turns me to face him. “No, Sophie. You’re not turning into some great martyr because of this asshole.”

“It’s the only way I know how to stop him,” I say.

“I’ll protect you.” Jagger runs his hand along the side of my face, his boyish lips curling into a smirk. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

My skin flares at the warmth of his touch. I turn my head to feather a kiss against his palm. But then I sag against him, too tired for words. “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “It’s never enough to stop him for good.”

“Well, I can sure as hell try.” Jagger bends over and scoops me into his arms. His touch is like fire, melting away all the tension I feel. There’s a dark determination to his eyes that stokes a fire in me, despite all my stress and fear. “And I can sure as hell do my best to take your mind off it in the meantime.”

I kiss him, hungry for him, hungry to forget about everything else.

Jagger deepens the kiss, letting our mouths tangle together, searching, desperate. The fire burns hotter within me. Then he carries me toward my bed and lays me across the mattress. He’s crouched over me, those dangerous hazel eyes of his gleaming. I cup his face in my hands, admiring the view for a minute, then pull him down for a kiss. He tastes warm and spicy from the wine, and I just want to pull that feeling into me. Savor every moment of him.

Jagger eases my dress up my thighs, then pulls it over my head. I wrestle him out of his undershirt. He curls one hand around my breast, teasing my nipple from the bra, and swirls his tongue around it. Gooseflesh spreads across my bare skin as I fill with wild want for him. No matter what has to happen next, I’ll keep this moment forever. I can never lose this.

Jagger kicks his jeans off and pulls my panties down. Slips his fingers between my thighs to tease me a little more, though I’m more than ready for him now. Another long kiss on the lips, and he sucks my lower lip between his teeth.

Then he settles into me with a comfort like coming home.

I cry out, soft, as he thrusts into me. We sink deeper into bed, going slow, my nails digging against his back. Slowly, I feel myself unfolding, letting all of my fear and frustrations go. Jagger looks straight into my eyes as he guides himself into me again and again. It melts away the tension.

And I’m falling even harder for him.

“Easy now,” he whispers. “Keep that up, and you’ll make me—”

But it’s too late for me. Everything rushes through me, my climax deep and fierce. Jagger presses his forehead against mine, and then he’s gone as well. We manage a few weak kisses on the lips before he sprawls beside me, both of us utterly exhausted. I pull Jagger into my arms and settle my head into the crook of his arm, ready for a well-deserved sleep.

Jagger’s determined to protect me; Darla’s determined to help me fight back. I’m not doing this alone anymore. I have people I care about on my side.

And that’s what I need—to know I’m not alone. To know I’m in the right. This is the first time I’ve felt that, and now that I feel it, I never want it to let go.

I don’t know how to fight Tyler. But I know how to fight my own fears. And if this is the start of my life free of Tyler, I’ll fight for it with everything I can.

S
ophie’s alarm
wakes us both up. I smash the snooze button and pull her deeper into my arms. No way she’s robbing me of even another minute with her. Wherever she has to rush off to can wait.

“Jagger . . .” she murmurs against my chest, but I hush her with a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Just one more minute,” I say.

She nuzzles against me, eyes still closed, and relents. She looks about ready to drift back off to sleep herself, gilded in the golden morning light that streams through her windows. Like an angel. I have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. I won’t let anything rob me of this pleasure, this goddess nestled in my arms.

“I’ll protect you,” I whisper, so soft I don’t know if she can hear.

Sophie sighs. “You can’t promise that. No one can.” Bleary-eyed, she tilts her head back to look at me. “But thank you. For everything you’ve done.”

She plants a kiss on the tip of my nose, then starts to crawl out of bed. I reach for her hand and lace our fingers together. “Wait,” I say. “I got a great idea.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sophie’s sleepy smile warms me through. It makes me smile, too.

I stand up and wrap my arms around her from behind, then trail a few kisses against that soft, creamy neck of hers. “I think what you need is a little getaway. Something to take your mind off things.”

She laughs and arches her back against my chest. “You’re very sweet.” She sighs, slumping forward. “But I can’t just run away from my problems, Jagger.”

“It’s not running,” I insist. “It’d just be for a day. Take your mind of things, and then, when we can get back, maybe everything’ll look better. I promise you—you’ll love it.”

“Just one day,” she repeats. She turns around in my arms to face me, and plants her hands firmly on my ass.

I wince and try to think cold-shower thoughts, though really, all I want is to throw her on the bed and fuck her raw all over again. “I know just the place to take you, too. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“All right. Fine.” She gooses me with a grin, then steps away. I hurriedly cup my hand around my rapidly rising boner, though I’m pretty sure she saw. “I’ll be free on Monday, if that works for you? I have Youth Center stuff to do until then, and then my thesis isn’t going to write itself.”

“Monday works great.” I bend away from her and pull on my jeans. “I’ll make it happen.”

* * *

I
head back
to the shop and grab some breakfast and a shower. By the time I head back downstairs to the garage, the whole crew is there, fussing over a heap of crates stacked up just outside the garage bay doors. Nash and Cyrus look up at me with narrowed eyes, and Nash’s upper lip curls back. Shit. Guess I’m on his bad side, now that I’ve brought the investigation on us. I’ll be sure to keep my distance.

I turn toward Drazic, who’s digging through the boxes like they fucking owe him money. “What’s going on?” I ask. The contents don’t look too exciting—oily spare parts, grease-smeared invoices, the usual crap.

Drazic exhales slowly and pauses to look up at me. “The DEA gave us our first round of stuff back.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I say. “That’s good news. Right? Means they didn’t find jack shit. Their charges are bullshit, and they know it.”

Drazic shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”

“Agent Brennan can’t be happy about it,” Cyrus says. “From what I know about agencies like that, they wouldn’t be giving it back unless they knew it was bullshit. But for a guy like Tyler . . .”

“Right. He’s going to move on to the next target, most likely,” Drazic says. “I liked it better when we knew what he was up to—trying to rattle us all. Now he’s going to look for a new target, and there’s no telling where he’ll start.”

“He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t stop until he wins,” Lennox says. “Isn’t he, Jags?”

I exhale and fold my arms. Unfortunately, I can’t argue with them there. But until I know how he wants to come at us next, there’s little I can do to stop it.

“I told Uncle D what happened with Sophie’s sister’s kids,” Elena says, as she hoists a box of parts onto her hip. “He’s up to something.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him,” Drazic says.

I look down at the boxes, then pull one up as well to carry inside. I know he’s right. But I also don’t know how and when Tyler’s going to strike next. There’s nothing I can do to prevent it, it feels, and there’s nothing I hate more than feeling helpless.

“Well, let’s just focus on getting the shop back into order for now,” I say. It feels good to be doing something productive, at least. For as long as I can. “Not much else we can do until Tyler turns up again.”

Drazic shakes his head. “It’s not going to be that easy. Look, Jagger . . . Let’s talk.”

Fuck. He follows me into the garage bay, and I set the box down on the counter before turning to look at him. Whatever he’s about to say, I’m pretty damned sure I don’t want to hear it.

“Go ahead.” I stuff my hands in my jean pockets, feeling my anger rise. “Don’t fucking sugarcoat me, D.”

Drazic sighs. “I know Sophie’s real sweet. She’s a good influence on you, honestly. Smart as a whip, and gorgeous, besides.”

“But . . .” I say, my jaw tightening. “There’s always a ‘but’ lurking there with you.”

“But you’re fucking us over, Jags.
All
of us. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to the rest of the crew.”

I groan and toe at a smear of oil on the shop floor. How can he blame Sophie for this? I know Drazic means well, but he’s so fucking off-base it’s killing me. My chest burns, aching to defend her, to convince Drazic Sophie isn’t the problem here. “Please. Tyler isn’t Sophie’s fault,” I say. “She didn’t ask to have a fucking psychopath stalker. C’mon, you can’t blame her for this.” I stare at him. I’m feeling way more vulnerable than I’m used to, and it hurts, but it’s what I have to do.

“I’m not laying the blame on her. That’s totally on Tyler, and I get it,” Drazic says. “But it doesn’t change the fact that if you weren’t involved with her, we wouldn’t have these problems.”

I jerk my thumb back toward the stack of boxes. “We
don’t
have these problems. And the DEA knows it. You see? We’re getting it all cleared up now.” I laugh. “He can’t get shit to stick to us, man. We’re free and clear now. Sooner or later, he’ll lose interest entirely, right? He has to. And then we can get back to business as usual.”

“You know damned well that isn’t how it works,” Drazic says.

I clench my jaw, unable to admit that he’s right.

“He isn’t going to stop. He’ll keep finding some new way to come at us until something
does
stick. And you know it. It’s not Sophie’s fault,” Drazic admits, “but you can’t tell me that this isn’t because of her.”

“I guess,” I mutter.

“If you stop seeing her, then Tyler will lose interest. All of this will end. And we won’t have to be under the goddamned microscope anymore. Am I right?”

“You’re not fucking helping,” I snarl. “We’re supposed to just roll over and let him do what he wants? Hurt Sophie? She doesn’t deserve that shit. She deserves to be protected.”

Drazic exhales loudly. “But Jagger, she isn’t one of our own.”

I grit my teeth. “Well, maybe she fucking should be.”

Drazic folds his arms and looks at me sideways. I’ve crossed a line, and I know it. Elena’s one of our own because she’s been part of the crew since day one. But even she’s crossed lines with Drazic before, and it’s never worked out well for her. I don’t have the same blood ties saving my ass.

“I can’t just abandon her,” I say finally, softer now. “Sophie needs me right now. She needs to know she’s safe.”

Drazic gives me a knowing look. “Now there’s something new. You, keeping a girl safe.” He manages a sad smile. “She must be something really special to you. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you even consider putting someone before the crew.”

“Not—not before the crew.” I grimace. “But she deserves to be cared for, as well. She isn’t just anyone.” And that, I realize, is the fucking problem. I’m crazy for her. And it’s making me crazy, period.

Drazic grips me by the forearm. “It’s okay to feel something for her. Might do you some good.”

I want to smile, but I’m not feeling it right now. I hate that we have this fucking psycho hanging over us. Poisoning what should be a good thing.

“Okay, Jags. I’m not going to warn you off of her. Not yet. But we need to figure out what this douchebag’s up to.”

“Not yet,” I echo. It doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

Drazic nods, his lips pursed. “I tell you what. Let’s grab some drinks tonight. I’ll get Elena to DD for us. I think the whole crew could stand to blow off some steam.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Sure.”

Drazic releases his grip on me and nods. “But I want you to think about what I said, Jagger. Everything has consequences.” His features darken. “I don’t want you to feel blindsided if some hard decisions have to be made.”

Fucking great. I scrub my hands through my hair and look up at the flickering fluorescent lights. I can’t abandon Sophie. Protecting her is the right thing to do.

But I can’t lose my crew.

* * *

N
ash gulps
down the last swig of his beer and slams the empty bottle onto the counter. We’re getting quite the collection of empties—too quick for the bartender to keep up with us. I’m going to have a bitching hangover tomorrow, but I don’t give a fuck right now, and I’m caring even less by the minute. It’s nice to forget, even if for just a minute, about everything waiting for me beyond the Crow Bar’s walls.

“So I’m lapping this fucker, easily,” Nash says, picking his story back up as best he can. “I mean, he’s just some jackoff tourist on the desert raceway, not like he really thought he could keep up with me. Right?”

I exchange a roll of the eyes with Lennox, but we elbow Nash to go on. Like we haven’t heard this fucking story a billion times before.

“So I buzz right past this douchebag. Grab and yank on the emergency brake. Tires screaming all around me, smoke filling the track. My car flips around crazy fast, and suddenly I’m nose to nose with the fucker. Right? He’s slamming on his brakes, trying not to collide with me. But he’s too late. I’ve tossed the dam thing into reverse and now I’m going around the track with him, nose to nose.”

The girls listening to his story cackle with laughter.

“So we make the last lap that way—my last lap, his next to last—with me going in reverse the whole fucking time. And then when we’re almost to the finish line, I do it again, whipping myself back around the right direction, and cross the finish line ahead of him. Still winning with time to spare.”

Lennox and I fake-clap for Nash as he takes a bow. One of the girls, well-manicured and about ninety percent teeth, sinks her claws into Nash’s shoulder. “Nicely done!”

“Yeah, fucking bravo, never heard that one before,” I tell Nash. “I think you owe us all a free round of shots just for listening to that.”

“Because you’ve all been
so
gracious, maybe I will.” Nash waves the bartender down.

One of the other girls links her arm through mine. I tense and try to pull free of her, but she holds fast. “What about you, Jagger? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of wild stories to share.”

I give Lennox and Drazic a look—a
please get this off of me
look—but all he manages to do is choke himself on his beer while laughing at me. My fucking friends, seriously.

“Nah, I’m not nearly as special as Nash. Or, um . . . available.”

She loosens her grip, just by a fraction, and I take the opportunity to yank my hand free. I grab two shots before she can latch onto me again and pass the other toward her.

“Now, Jagger, I thought you were Mr. Bigshot, can’t let a woman hold you down,” she says. Aimee? I think her name’s Aimee. Did I sleep with her once? She looks vaguely familiar, in that super-predictable tanned and bottle-blonde way. “I’m sure you can fool around still.”

Someone claps me on the back and yanks the shot out of my hand. “Oh, honey,” the man says, “this one’s off the market, no matter what silver-tongued lies he tries to tell you. Isn’t that right, Jagger? No sense getting this nice lady’s hopes up. Unless, of course, you’re trying to do something dishonorable tonight . . .”