Wet Work: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Carmen Faye

  "No. I don't think Darcy's fucking some sad old prick who can't even defend himself." Speed chose to disregard that as a throw away comment. He knew Larry was a bastard, hence the name. He only said the wrong things, though. He wasn't really such a terrible person, outside of business hours.

  Anyway, Speed was too caught up in staring at Steve hatefully. Mostly, his focus was being spent on trying not to hate. Everyone knew he could be an angry and violent man. That's one of the reasons he was in charge of the club in the first place. They weren't about to let some pussy who wasn't willing to swing a punch take charge of The Wild Cards. Keeping a cool head when it was required was another trait most good leaders needed, too.

  He wouldn't have admitted that to anyone else, but he was thinking about running over and pounding his head into the ground. Oh, the sheer joy he'd feel as his fist collided with his face. It wouldn't be joy in the conventional sense either. There was a darker side to pleasure and only those who had made a living doing bad things could understand why it gave them such a thrill. It was more than just being bad. If you didn't enjoy something, you wouldn't want to keep doing it for no good reason. Money was a great reason, but it wasn't enough to make someone follow a life of misdeeds thoroughly. Bad boys like to be bad because it made them feel good. The same thing went for bad girls.

  And he'd never forgive Steve for messing with Darcy. There would be the whole revenge factor there, too. If only he could just get that creep alone and find a way to stop anyone from finding out about the beating Speed would lay on him. That would finally get Steve back for being such a worthless person. But Speed was not about to make a scene and risk ruining this day for his girl — no fucking way. And to say how he was really feeling might entice his boys to do their leader a favor by roughing Steve up on their own initiative. Best to just keep it quiet and pretend like everything was o-fucking-kay.

  He had to get ahold of that anger, the thing that made him want to rip off Steve’s arm and beat him to death with it. But when such anger was an old acquaintance, even a lifelong friend, it was hard to ignore it. Usually that kind of feeling was what helped him out when the chips were down, and someone needed to take action. In the "real" world where people didn't go around breaking the law every day, those types of actions usually got a man thrown in jail for life, or maybe killed. Get it under control. Don't lose your cool and ruin this for her.

  “I guess it’s nothing…” Speed muttered.

  Darcy took the peace offering from Steve and started to unscrew the cap. Good girl, checking to make sure the safety seal was still intact. Maybe there was nothing to worry about there. If Steve was up to no good — and that was most definitely what the old prick was up to — it didn't have anything to do with that actual bottle of water. There was no conspiracy to poison anyone today. That kind of shit only happened back in the old days of castles and knights, right, when people didn't have guns and shit like that? Speed's head was really playing tricks on him now. He was starting to think like a crazy person. It was just all the stress probably, the tightening feelings that came along with caring for another person so deeply it almost hurt. Fuck, love was a hell of a thing.

  She took a drink, seemed refreshed and happy enough, then set the bottle down to the side of the road. But when Steve walked away from Darcy, he looked right at Speed at was grinning in a way that was all too familiar.

  He’d been so distracted watching Steve with hatred that he didn’t realize the race had just started. “Shit!” he said. But it was too late. The riders took off from their starting positions, Darcy pulling out ahead of the others already. Speed was thrilled at that; he wanted her to win so badly it almost hurt. As they took off up the track, into the canyon, he was getting more nervous by the second.

  Something was wrong, and he couldn’t make a proper judgment on exactly what he should do. There was a pretty big chance that Speed had just imagined it all, and everything was fine. He did things like that when he let his anger get the better of him, and he’d never been in love, yes love, with a woman before. It was all too much for him to handle, while keeping his head. The best thing to do was just let the race happen, and worry about that Steve prick later, find out what his deal is then. Yeah, maybe he'd let his temper get away from him once the race was underway. Everyone would be watching what was happening on the track. They wouldn't notice if Speed and his boys found a nice, quiet place to talk with Steve. They'd find out what was going on and exactly what that ex-army prick had going through his head.

  "Hey, boys," he said to Larry and the others. They crowded in closer to him, noticing the business-like tone in their president's voice. "We're going to find out just why that guy was talking to Darcy, but not until I give the word. If anyone makes a scene here and fucks up all this good publicity we've gathered up, I'm gonna have to cut their nuts off and feed them to the dogs. Got it?"

  They sure did. And they were looking forward to a chance to get their hands on Steve at last. Not one of them liked the guy, especially knowing Speed wasn't a fan of him.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  That was a great start! Darcy was so focused that she didn't even care about Steve coming to talk to her. She'd just taken his "peace offering," as he put it, and that was all there was to it. He was acting a little strange, but he'd always been hard to judge. Even when he was her coach, there was always something about him Darcy couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  And then there was Aubrey, who'd had the nerve to show up hanging off some biker. Darcy didn't recognize him, but she knew the colors and emblem of his jacket. It was a rival club and that could only mean trouble. The man didn't look like he would treat her well at all. Maybe she was just doing it to get back at her, make Speed jealous, or for some other reason that could be anyone's guess.

  Everything was a distraction. Darcy knew all the other aspects of her life were important. They made her the person she was and the top rider she was on the way to becoming. But they had no place in her mind during a race, especially one as important as this. She pushed them back, made those thoughts shut the hell up and let her think about what really mattered.

  Race. Win. Be the best.

  You've been working for this.

  Don't waste the opportunity you've been given, Darcy.

  And they were off before she knew it. That was the biggest relief of her life. It was almost orgasmic, only different. Instead of a buildup of pleasure that was finished with a final peak of enjoyment, it was tension and horrible emotions that were let go. Darcy was ahead already, and it was just the very first step toward winning this race. She had it covered.

  Out beyond the roaring crowd, all the eyes watching and wondering who was going to be the best that day, Darcy felt more at peace. There was never anything that centered her in the same way as riding did. Training was one thing, a daily ritual that made her life have meaning, something to test her. But actually competing, that was when she felt truly alive. But competing wasn’t enough, giving your best effort, if you never won. That was how she’d always lived her life; it would all culminate in this race. What position Darcy was in when she crossed that finish line meant everything. Losing would leave her with nothing at all.

  Push everything away. Don't let the world get to you while you're out here, Darcy.

  You will win.

  No one can stop you now.

  She was feeling very Zen under the pressure once she was out there racing. It also felt like she was completely alone, though there was a whole pack of other riders just behind her. They made sounds as they followed her, but that was easy to ignore, the whirring of their pedals blending in with her own. Their grunts of breathing and exertion were also easy enough to ignore. They moved like one big organism, only the individual parts of this gigantic cycling creature were at war with one another. They were in competition and only one part, one individual unit, could come out triumphant.

  Things started to come together in a way like never before, almost slowing down so sh
e could really take time to react to each bend of the track, each little gust of wind that pushed or pulled her and the cycle. Monks who spent years sitting in silence and trying to figure out how to become truly "one" with all of creation couldn't attain the kind of state Darcy was in.

  Don't let anyone catch up. No one is going to take this away from you.

  Her mind was playing odd tricks on her. The sides of the road were blending together with the blue up above. It was also like she really couldn't hear any other riders behind her. Darcy desperately wanted to look behind her to see if there was anyone still right on her tail. Doing that was like giving up, admitting someone else was going to catch up and overtake her, take away the glory of winning this race. There wasn't a chance in hell she was going to give another rider the satisfaction. Especially not Aubrey, after the way she'd been acting lately. If she were to win, Darcy didn't think she would ever be able to get over it and forgive her for everything. So now she was riding for the future chances of rekindling their friendship, as well as for herself.

  It was strange, really, like being on some kind of wonderful drug. Streaks of light and color washed past, and made her laugh. It was like being drunk, or maybe on drugs, not that she’d ever tried anything a doctor hadn’t prescribed. This was probably the same kind of thing. Her life had been leading up to this race, so her brain was spinning out of control because of all the excitement. That was a reasonable explanation, right?

  Her legs were burning but in a good way. Her strong back was welded onto the frame of the bike, supporting her arms and hands and legs, everything.

  So much weight on her chest, breathing becoming funny. Fluid funny. Swimming through water. Riding through water anyway. The sky was beautiful. The whirring grew louder again. Someone was catching up and she knew should look behind her to see who it was.

  “Oh, shit,” she said, and the words came out all funny. Had Steve put something in that water? Of course he did, thinking any better of him after what’d happened was naïve. She’d been suckered in for real this time. Now it was all flowing through her body and working to bring her down. That whirring sound got louder and louder. The race was over for Darcy. Maybe the sound was all just in her head, though; she was still moving too fast to be falling back into the pack.

  Something approached her and Darcy turned her head to see what it was, the shadow crossing over into her field of vision. It collided with her from behind but didn't connect fully. Darcy kept on riding and she heard a person laughing. The sound made her skin crawl and the sensation worked with her already altered state of mind to a frightening result. That maniacal laughter was terrifying, as though she would certainly die if it didn't stop.

  "Aubrey?!" she shouted as she turned and saw who it was trying to run her off the road. Her friend rammed her again, making her rear tire grind and stutter to a brief stop. It started to spin out on the asphalt.

  Darcy didn’t have time to do much, couldn’t react beyond basic survival instincts. She just held on and tried to keep riding. Bringing her bike to a sudden stop would have been too much for her to handle with her foggy mind. The tips of her fingers were going numb and a tingling feeling was working around her body like some kind of muddy lightning.

  "You're going to kill us!" she called out to the oncoming blur at the side of her vision. They were moving so fast Darcy was sure she'd crack her head open if she crashed the cycle.

  With a final thud, Aubrey managed to get her bicycle to tip the balance of Darcy's, and they both shot to the edge of the track. It was probably fortunate that they were coming up to a sharp corner, because there was a safety barricade set up for riders whose breaks had failed, or were having trouble stopping for some other reason. Darcy was thankful when she saw their two fighting bikes were about to collide with it.

  Her cycle careened into a safety barricade on an upcoming corner, probably saving her life. She rolled over and over, caught under her bicycle and praying nothing would get broken. It was hard to feel any of the pain, which was for the best. Aubrey clattered to a halt nearby. With a clear mind and all of her reaction speed still with her, Aubrey didn't crash. She brought herself to a stop and threw her cycle down hard. Then, she ran over to where Darcy was among the knocked down safety barrier, and the bales of hay that had been strategically placed for cushioning. There was soft sand underneath, which prevented her from getting any cuts broken bones. At least, she didn't feel like she'd seriously hurt anything in the crash.

  “Speed was supposed to be mine!” screamed Aubrey as she jumped on top of Darcy and started to rip and her hair and slap her in the face.

  "No, please!" said Darcy. She couldn't get all the thoughts floating around her head to come out, though. Aubrey had been given an unfair deal, that much was true. Darcy hadn't thought about her feelings when she'd walked out of that restaurant and gone to the hotel with Speed. She'd ditched her best friend right in the middle of their celebratory lunch, and didn't even give her a good explanation. To add insult to injury, she'd gone off with the man Aubrey had been crushing hard over. And then this was all just swept under the rug, like her feelings didn't matter?

  "I'm just as good as you are!" screamed Aubrey. But it wasn't her. No, it wasn't really the good friend Darcy had known since they were just kids. "Why did you do this to me?!"

  If she had to give an answer, Darcy wouldn't have been able to.

  You did me wrong. You need to be punished severely. But those were the thoughts of a lunatic, not a sane and rational person. These were the actions of someone who desperately needed help, not a person who genuinely wanted to cause pain and misery.

  "I love you," Darcy managed to say, but the words didn’t seem to form properly.

  Aubrey just kept hitting her in the face, with open hands and not actual fists. It was as though she couldn't bring herself to really hurt Darcy, or she was just trying to work herself up to cause more serious damage. As her grunts and sobs grew louder and closer together, the strikes were harder and harder. Soon, she was punching Darcy in the face and around the chest and shoulders, holding her victim with the weight of her own body.

  And then Darcy was being strangled, choking under the weight of Aubrey and her hard, slender fingers. Any chance she had of getting some words out were gone. Maybe there was something she could have said that would have reminded her about the friendship they'd shared all these years. They had always been in competition with each other, but that had never stood in the way before. Letting a guy get between them was crazy.

  The way Aubrey looked down at her told Darcy there was nothing she could have said now anyway. The time was gone for talk. Now it was time to go to sleep and dream about how things might have been different in another reality.

  "No," she tried to say. The word was subvocalized at the back of her throat, but it couldn't escape the crushing force. She raised her knees up to hoist the crazed woman off, but they were made of Jell-O and couldn’t do much to help. With all of her will and power coming from those hard muscles, she tried and tried again to push Aubrey off of her. Even if her body weren’t too heavy, the grip of those hard fingers around Darcy's throat would have been too difficult to pry free. It was pointless.

  Darcy's hands were much the same, noodles that wouldn’t cooperate to pry Aubrey’s fingers from her throat. Her body was in pain now as the numbing sensation took a cruel twist. That made the pain from being strangled seem much less than it was. But the hurt of being treated that way by a friend was still unbearable. Their eyes met and for a brief instant it seemed as though Aubrey felt sorry for what she was doing. The grip loosened around Darcy's throat and she was ready to try and get up.

  Then, that cold, heartless intensity returned to her eyes and Darcy prepared herself to be strangled once again, until she could no longer breathe this time. She managed to get two pointless words out before that happened.

  “Why, Aubrey?” she tried to ask, but that only brought on another bout of hateful screams and sobs.

 
; It was clear Darcy was going to die out there, on what was meant to be the best day. This was going to take her to the Tour, at long, long last. Instead, killed by her best friend. At least she wouldn't be left to die from the poison Steve had given her, and this was surely better than dying all alone in a nursing home someday…

  Just as that final thought crossed her mind, the ground began to shake and the skies thundered, maybe sounding her passage into an afterlife that was hopefully better than this one. She’d miss her family, and Speed, who she had only just started to share her life with. That sexy man, tough as nails, big hog between his legs, on the road and between the sheets.

  Motorcycles! That’s what the rumbling was — there were roaring bikes heading her way. Could it be Speed had really come to save her? If anyone could bring her back from the dead, it'd be him. She was surely going to slip away forever if he didn't get there in time. So melodramatic, but she couldn't control the spinning vibration as black slashed away at her already failing vision. It was hard to remember if she'd been standing up or on the ground. Aubrey was there, too, but she forgot what they were doing and what had happened. Darcy finally gave up and lost consciousness under the weight that was on top of her.