Throttle (Jack 'Em Up #3)

by Shauna Allen

  The Cupid Chronicles

  Inked by an Angel: Book I

  The Halo Effect: Book II

  Wounded Wings: Book III

  Cupid’s Last Stand: Book IV

  Charlie’s Angel: A Novella

  Standalones

  Elvis is a Keeper

  Circle of Redemption: A Tre Donne Anthology

  Jack ‘Em Up

  Burnout: Prequel (Blake and Delilah: The Beginning)

  Crank: Book I (Blake and Delilah)

  Torque: Book II (Jesse and Rachel)

  Hitched: A Jack 'Em Up Wedding (Jesse & Rachel continued)

  Throttle: Book III (Trace and Tori)

  Rev: Book IV (Micah and Jewel) COMING SOON!

  I have a past. I have pain.

  I don’t dwell on those because I have a future.

  I’ve got my career and my wits. I don’t need love, or lust, or some man to make me complete. That’s for fairy tales.

  Yeah, right.

  Trace Berringer is the perfect male specimen, wrapped up in a smart, sexy, witty package, and while I may not need him, I sure want him. But he’s got a past of his own. One that may ultimately keep us apart.

  Tori Waters has become both my fantasy and my nightmare.

  I’ve wanted her since the moment we met, but she has walls a mile high.

  Hell, so do I.

  Sex and shameless flirting are one thing, but I’ve been burned and I can’t afford to go there again. My son is my heart, my soul. It’s just us against the world and I’d kill to protect him.

  No one, definitely no woman, is going to hurt us again.

  That is a promise.

  For Mom.

  I lost you too soon.

  Trace

  Being a single father is not for the faint of heart. It’s not for pussies or pushovers either.

  I’ve learned the hard way that you have to suck it up and bust your ass to do it right, or there’s no point. Luckily for me, kids have an uncanny bullshit radar and know when your heart is in the right place.

  Mine was currently holding my temper in check as I attempted to wrangle my wiggling seven-year-old into bed.

  “No!” Ryder screeched high enough to break glass. “I’m not tired!”

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to summon my crumbling patience. It. Was. Hard. “Come on, Ry. It’s been a long day. Plus, Aunt Rachel is here and I need you to be a big boy for her.”

  I’d tried the bedtime snack thing, the bedtime story, heck, even the bedtime tickle. They’d all bombed epically. Apparently, my little guy was channeling the obstinance I knew he’d inherited from me and unleashing it at the most inopportune time.

  “Buddy—”

  “Ryder,” Rachel’s soft voice drifted from behind me, “why don’t we go in the living room and watch that show you were telling me about?” Her deep brown eyes flickered to mine, silently asking permission.

  At that point, I was ready to hand over the reins. I loved my kid, would gladly die or kill for him, but tonight I’d reached my max. I stepped back and let him scramble out of bed and rush to Rachel’s open arms.

  Sweet relief poured over me. “Great. Have a good time, you two.”

  She winked and sauntered off with my son in her arms. I followed a moment later to find them already cuddled up on the couch. I froze and studied them, swallowing the usual bitterness that threatened to consume me when I thought of all that Kristi had denied our child when she’d run off for greener pastures. Well, her next high . . . and her next, and her next . . . but what the fuck ever. Why she couldn’t clean up her act for her own son was beyond me, but I was just glad I’d been there to pick up the pieces. The fact that I knew about him at all was a miracle, since she didn’t bother to contact me until she was in labor.

  Yeah. Surprise.

  I guess pain and panic can make people do crazy stuff like let the father of their baby in on the secret.

  Well, what was done was done. No sense crying about it now. Kristi was just a faint one-night-stand memory that had taught me a cruel lesson in trust. Ryder was mine, and I would protect him at all costs. The way it should be.

  I leaned over and brushed a kiss to his head, ruffling his dark brown hair, so much like mine. “Love you, Buddy. Have fun and be good for Aunt Rachel.”

  He mumbled something, his attention riveted on the colorful cartoon characters on the television.

  Rachel grinned up at me. “Have a good time, but don’t let my fiancé have too much fun. He has to meet me at the altar tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. A man only has one bachelor party, you know.” At the drop of her jaw, I relented. “Of course I’ll watch out for him. He loves you too much to screw this up anyway.” I grabbed my keys and faced her. “Thanks for watching Ry so I can go. I really appreciate it.”

  “Absolutely. You have to be there. Jesse wouldn’t have it any other way. I already had my fun with the girls last weekend, so it’s my man’s turn. Plus, who can complain about spending a quiet night alone with their second favorite man?” She waved a hand to shoo me. “Now, go, get outta here. We have junk food to eat.”

  I wasted no time. I ducked out and locked the door behind me, breathing in the tang of the late summer air. Sliding into my ’55 Chevy, I took a moment to relish the simplicity of silence. These past seven years, my life had become all about my son. Protecting him. Teaching him. Loving him. My heart had taken the backburner, constantly reliving and marinating in my jaded memories.

  But tonight? Tonight, I was going to live it up and get back to the easy-going guy I used to be. The guy I used to like and respect, not the lonely stranger in the mirror.

  I cranked up the engine, the AC, and my long-buried determination, and took off for the Funky Monkey.

  Parking next to Micah’s black Jeep, I pocketed my keys and bounded for the door. There was a ton of fun just waiting to be squeezed into a few measly hours. Hell, if it wasn’t for my neighbor, Mrs. Callahan, who watched Ryder when he got home from school and occasionally at night, I’d never have a moment alone. The sweet older woman loved spoiling him with cookies and hugs since her own grandchildren didn’t live close by. I was happy to let her, he had so few women in his life.

  But, tonight, I had Rachel’s help and I was gonna take advantage.

  The loud music, bustle of people, and scent of beer greeted me as I pushed inside. Scouring the bar, I immediately spotted my friends at a table near the back. I made my way through the maze of people and snuck up behind the man of the hour, my buddy, Jesse Joyner.

  “Happy Ball ‘n Chain Day, man!” I smacked him on the back as he rounded on me, pure joy on his goofy-ass face.

  “Thanks, dude!” He stood and moved over so I could squeeze a chair in. “My lady doing all right at your place?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes. She’s watching one of Ryder’s shows and tanking him up on junk food.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Reaching for the pitcher of beer, I poured a glass and took a long pull. Tonight was about my friend and his wedding. And getting some free time out of the house. Couldn’t forget that.

  Blake leaned over and began talking shop with Jesse. Our other buddy, Micah, made his way back from the pool tables, a crisp new twenty dollar bill pinched between his fingers, a grin on his face. He slid into the chair next to mine. “Next round is on me,” he crowed.

  Pool shark.

  We laughed and drank and shot the shit as a few more of Jesse’s friends and family members trickled in. I’d given him hell for refusing the whole stripper thing, but I kinda got it when his dad and older brother, Dwayne, showed up. After spending five long years behind bars and two on parole, he was more interested in family time than a go
od time, and I couldn’t begrudge him that.

  Pitchers of Budweiser flowed freely and we were getting a tad loud and rowdy, but it was all in good fun. Jesse’s free laughter and infectious grin made it all worth it.

  “Care to dance?”

  I glanced up at the sultry voice to my right, letting my eyes focus on the dark-haired girl with huge, surgically-enhanced assets. “Uh . . .” I moved to stand, figuring why the hell not, but then I froze as my world came to a screeching halt.

  It was her.

  Her.

  The girl I’d been dreaming of for freakin’ months.

  My chair skidded behind me as I uncoiled to my full height. I gave the barfly in front of me a cursory once-over. “Maybe next time.”

  Her mouth sagged open in shock, but I pressed past and made my way across the bar, my eyes glued to my prey. She had disappeared without a trace several months ago and I’d been kicking myself ever since that I’d never made a move. The girl had a way of tying my tongue, that was for sure.

  The crowd parted as if by divine intervention and my eyes ate her up from head to toe. Plenty of long leg, encased in cowboy boots, showed beneath a short pink sundress that did amazing things for her breasts. Her normally short hair had grown out to her shoulders and I found myself disappointed that she didn’t have her normal bold streaks of color highlighting her honey blond. But, damn, she was still a goddess.

  I was within feet of her, my heart beating a wild tattoo, when her gray eyes, the same color as the stormy ocean, found mine. Recognition flared to life between us.

  Then she glanced away with a smile for the dorky guy on her left, taking his hand as they headed out to the dance floor.

  No. Way.

  I’d screwed up and lost her to a Waldo wannabe? Frowning, I stood on the periphery of the floor and studied them. She seemed . . . acquainted . . . with him. Nothing more.

  He seemed to be totally into her though, his eyes hooded as he stared down at her, his hand sliding down her back, hovering dangerously close to her ass.

  For a split second, I wrestled with what to do. But the caveman in me won out and I stalked toward them, pissing off a few couples that had to shuffle around me.

  I tapped Waldo on the shoulder. “Can I cut in?”

  Her big, surprised eyes flew to me as he let her loose to gape. “Uh . . .”

  “Great. Thanks.” I grabbed her from his hold and spun away.

  Good God, she fit into me like we’d been carved from the same mold, her sweet curves heavenly to hold. I inhaled a deep breath of her scent. Liquid gold was the only way to describe it. Sexy and dark, alluring as hell.

  “Um, excuse me.” She stopped us mid-spin, her mouth pinched, her shoulders tight.

  I met her pissed off eyes. Uh oh. “Hi,” I said, offering my most charming smile.

  She wasn’t buying it. “Are you always that rude? I was dancing with someone else.”

  “But you didn’t look very happy doing it.” My gaze flicked to the tiny diamond stud in her nose, down to her succulent lips, then back up. “I thought I’d save you.”

  “Save me?” Her brows thundered down as she drew away. “Did I look like I needed saving?”

  Fuck. I was screwing this up. What to do. I debated between laying on the charm and just telling her the truth. Something in her eyes told me I’d better go with truth. “Look, I’m sorry. I just . . . I’ve missed seeing you around here.” I glanced over toward the group of people she’d been with. Waldo was nursing a soda, giving me the evil eye. “I never thought I’d see you again and I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

  She softened before my eyes as she took me in. “Trace, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Trace Berringer.”

  She held out a dainty hand. “Tori Waters.”

  “I know.” I accepted her hand.

  Her laugh was smoky and rich and grabbed me by the balls. “So, can I ask why the sudden moves tonight? I worked here for months and you never . . .”

  The obvious interest in her gaze caught me off guard. I had never been able to tell if I had a shot in hell with her. “Yeah. I know. I’m slow I guess.” I chose to leave out the single fatherhood trust issues that I wore like a weighted chain around my neck.

  She laughed again. “Slow is one way to put it.”

  “Where have you been?” I asked.

  Somehow, we ended up back in each other’s arms as a new song came on. I swayed with her slowly, wondering what in the hell had taken me so long.

  “I was finishing up my degree and doing a work study.”

  “Ah. Good for you. So, are you back?”

  “In Baybridge, yes. At the bar, no.” She indicated the group around Waldo with a tip of her head. “Those are my new co-workers. We had a work function today and decided to go out for drinks to unwind.”

  Disappointment slid through me. I had gotten used to that form-fitting bar uniform on her. Shame to see it go.

  “Here with your friends?” she asked, and I would’ve sworn she cuddled in a hair closer.

  “Yeah.” I glanced over at my crowd, all of them oblivious to me. “Bachelor party tonight. My friend, Jesse’s getting married tomorrow.”

  Her eyes lit up. “To Rachel, right?”

  “Right.” I’d forgotten she knew the girls, too, since we all frequented the Funky Monkey, the only real entertainment in this tiny Texas town.

  “That’s great. She’s a sweet girl.”

  I nodded, thinking of that sweet girl back at my condo, babysitting my son. Angel was more like it. “You should come.” I cringed at my bull in the China shop tendency.

  Tori’s eyes flew to mine and I was struck again by the cool cloudy color. “I . . . thanks, but I can’t.”

  “Okay. No big deal.” Mentally kicking myself for pushing too hard, too fast, I swung her in a fancy twirl.

  “I wish I could.”

  Her words, combined with the sweet flush on her cheeks, made me stumble. She giggled and I found myself wanting to kiss her so bad it hurt. Other than the sporadic friendly date, I’d pretty much steered clear of women ever since Kristi had burned me. But something about this girl called out to every part of me, and damned if I knew why. She was just so fucking sweet and spunky and perfect. Not to mention gorgeous.

  “Hey, Trace!” Blake yelled, cutting into the moment. “Get your ass back over here. Our groom has challenged us to a drinking game.”

  I wavered. I should get back to the celebration, but I finally had Tori in my arms and I hated to let her go. She made the decision for me, stepping back. “You should get back to your friends. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” She pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Thanks for the dance.” Then, with a soft smile, she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

  Feeling like I’d bumbled it again, I turned back to my friends, pasting on a fake smile.

  After a few drinks, and smoking Jesse at his own game, I looked again, unable to help myself, but Tori and her friends were gone.

  I tossed back another shot, wondering if I’d fucked up my last chance to know the woman who haunted all my fantasies.

  Tori

  WTF.

  My heart was still thundering beneath my ribs as I tossed one last peek over my shoulder and followed Everett and the others out of the Funky Monkey. Trace stood with his profile to me, making my mouth water. He’d let his dark chocolate colored hair grow out a bit and it brushed his nape, looking so soft I was dying to run my fingers through it. Taller and leaner than his friends, he literally stood head and shoulders above the crowd.

  And those eyes.

  A misty olive green, they were so much deeper than hazel. They reminded me of the Buffalo River by my grandparent’s home in Arkansas, where I’d spent many summers while my mom worked. The happiest times in my life.

  I silently pleaded with him to look at me once more, to reassure me that what I was feeling— what I had felt since the first time I laid eyes on him—wasn’t one-sided. H
e’d never given an inkling that he’d noticed me as anything other than his waitress until tonight, and I found myself stupidly full of self-doubt.

  “Tori? You coming?”

  I tore my gaze away and focused on Everett, whose watery brown eyes were frowning at me from behind his glasses. “Uh . . .” I glanced at Trace, but his back was to me. I faced Everett again. “Sure.”

  I followed the group out of the bar where I’d worked for over a year as I finished up my studies. It still felt like home in a lot of ways and I knew every last worn nook and scarred cranny in that place. But it was time to move on.

  My fellow Baybridge Elementary co-workers murmured around me about the new school year and some policy changes, but my mind was trapped back inside the Funky Monkey. What was wrong with me? How had one man thrown me so thoroughly? Guys like him—hotter than hot—were usually trouble and I’d do well to remember that.

  Gusts of wind that tasted of the ocean buffeted the hair around my face as I made my way to my car. Everyone else spread out to head home, but Everett followed me, either attempting to be a gentleman or because he’d read too much into our dance. It was hard to tell.

  I offered him a weak smile. “Goodnight.”

  He paused as if considering his next move, then tipped his head and stepped back. Message delivered. “Drive carefully, Tori. See you at school next week.”

  I huddled into my ancient Honda and cranked the engine. I loved this car. I saw past its chipped, rusting paint and tired engine, to the sturdy, reliable workhorse underneath. Betsy had gotten me through college when she was the best I could afford, and had yet to let me down. I might be able to afford something better soon, but I was reluctant to let her go.

  As I puttered out of the parking lot, I idly wondered what Trace and his mechanic buddies would think of my Betsy. Not much, I imagined. Not that it mattered. I was starting my new career and wouldn’t have much time for the Funky Monkey anymore . . . my days of ogling the town mancandy were numbered.

  At home, I indulged in a hot shower before bed. As I brushed out my wet hair, I studied my reflection, unable to shake thoughts of Trace. What did he see when he looked at me? Best I could tell, I was fairly average. Not too big, not too small. Not too short or too tall. Just an average girl whose looks had never caught the boys’ attention, but a brain that the teachers always noticed. That brain had gotten me into school and out of the poverty-stricken side of Houston that most people ignored. My mom had scraped by most of the time, working three jobs, but that didn’t leave much of her for me and my two sisters. She wasn’t a bad mother. She loved us the best she knew how and provided what she could after our dad left, but I couldn’t remember one time she’d gotten down on the floor to play or indulged in teatime or dress-up with us, or heck, even read us a bedtime story. Our circumstances had sucked the life from her, making that stuff the frills she couldn’t afford.