No Place to Hide (Rocking Racers Book 2)

by Megan Lowe

  “Shit,” I curse. This guy has his sights set on finishing on the podium, and he’s not going to be happy if he doesn’t. Several times on that lap Robinson tries to get past Cole, but every time Cole shuts the door quickly. The bikes come across the start/finish line for the second last time, and you can cut the tension in the air with a knife. Liam is comfortably out in front still, his lead now ten seconds, fourteen seconds in front of Cole’s group. The rider who was in third before Cole has dropped back, so it’s just him and Robinson battling.

  “What are you doing?” I hear Reed yelling seconds before it happens. The bikes approach a right-hander and Robinson pulls around on the inside of Cole. It’s a risky and difficult manoeuvre to try, especially this late in the race on wearing tyres. It proves too much for Robinson, whose front end loses grip and sends the bike down, sparks flying, and into Cole. He’s flicked off the bike and hits the track hard on his back before he slides into the grass then gravel that line the track. White smoke bellows from his bike as Cole punches the ground in frustration. Heads drop in the garage but perk up in time to see Liam take the chequered flag. I stare at Cole on the monitor. He’s kicking at the gravel, his gloved hands clutching at his helmet. I’m devastated he crashed, but relieved he doesn’t appear to be hurt.

  “Stupid fucking cocksucker,” Reed mutters. “Sorry,” he says when he spots me.

  I give him a friendly smile. “I have been known to swear once or twice.”

  “This is what I hate about racing, guys who think they’re invincible, top shit. Not only can they not back it up, they take out other guys and put us down an engine.”

  “Is that what the white smoke was?”

  Reed nods. “The engine blew. We only have four for the season, so Cole’s going to have to be careful now.”

  Cole returns to the pits on the back of a moped and immediately throws his helmet against the wall.

  “That cocksucking motherfucker,” he seethes.

  I rush to him, my hand on his cheek. “Are you okay?” He gives me a look that says “of course I’m not, are you out of your fucking mind?”

  “I mean are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Tough break, man,” Reed says, clapping him on the back.

  “The engine.”

  Reed sighs. “It’s not great, but we’ll just have to be careful, not push too hard for something that’s not going to happen.”

  “Fuck, man,” Cole says, running his hands through his hair.

  Reed claps him on the back again. “I know, but racing is never easy. Wins aren’t handed out on a silver platter. You have to fight. It makes the celebrations that much sweeter, you know this.” Cole sighs, nods, and runs his hands through his hair again.

  “Come on, handsome,” I say, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the pits and into the caravan set up behind them. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

  He crowds me against the side of the vehicle, his arms at either side of my head. “I thought you liked me all hot and sweaty?”

  My breathing is shallow, my panties damp, and my nipples press against the cups of my bra. “I do,” I say breathlessly.

  He throws me a cocky smirk before taking my lips in a blistering kiss. My arms come around him but can’t get purchase on his leathers. I whine at the lack of contact, and Cole breaks away, chuckling.

  “Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me up the small steps to the caravan, “you can help me wash my back.”

  If I thought watching Cole crash was difficult, it’s nothing compared to the conversation between him and the Ryan boys at dinner. They’re swapping war stories, trying to outdo each other by comparing broken bones, snapped ligaments, and the number of stitches they needed for each horrific injury.

  “Whatever,” Jax scoffs, “you guys are pussies. You have all this protective gear. I roll down a fifteen-metre ramp with only the T-shirt on my back and a helmet.”

  “We can’t help the fact you’re stupid enough to do it,” Liam says.

  “Whatever, man, you’re just jealous I get to do totally awesome tricks,” Jax retorts.

  “Yeah, ’cause doing backflips is cooler than flying around a track at 300 km/h.”

  Jax has opened his mouth to reply when Bria interjects. “All right, children, you’re both fantastic and equally insane, so can we cut the shit talking and have a nice dinner?”

  “Sorry, mama-sis-boss,” Jax says. Bria rolls her eyes. Liam holds his hand up in apology. Beside me, Cole shifts uncomfortably.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, my back’s just a bit sore.”

  “Do you need to see a doctor? You did hit the track pretty hard.” I lift his shirt to find a massive bruise forming. He had a bit of one in the shower, but nothing like this.

  “Oh my God!”

  “What?”

  “You have a massive bruise here!”

  “That’s to be expected,” Park says, totally unconcerned for my boyfriend’s well-being.

  “That’s a good one,” Jax says, inspecting it and taking a photo. “That one’s going straight on Instagram and the pool room.” He actually high-fives Cole.

  “You’re insane,” I say. I can’t believe they’re all so blasé about this. Cole could’ve been seriously hurt.

  “Do you want me to have a look?” Mason, Liam’s very, very attractive boyfriend, asks.

  “Nah,” Cole says, at the same time I say “yes.”

  I look at him. “Mason will be having a look at your back.”

  He cups my cheek. “I’m fine, love.”

  “Then you won’t mind a paramedic confirming that.” He sighs then nods.

  Mason comes over, pokes around for a bit and asks Cole a few questions.

  “He’s fine,” he says, “just a bad bruise.”

  “See, love, I told you I’m fine.”

  “I know, I just wanted to be sure. Hearing you guys talk before, a bone could be sticking out of your leg and you’d say it’s just a scratch.”

  “But it would be,” Jax says.

  “Idiots, the lot of you,” I say, shaking my head.

  Cole runs his nose along my cheek before nipping my earlobe. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

  I do love Cole, with everything I have, but as I fall asleep that night all I can see is Cole coming off the bike. Add to that his tales of “war wounds,” as he calls them, and I sleep a little less easy than I used to.

  Coley Split?

  Have our prayers been answered, Mongers? Sources tell us there’s been a noticeable increase in tension between our girl McKnley Rhodes and racer boyquaintance Cole Matthews since their return from Europe three months ago. Since then the two have only been seen together twice.

  While it could be argued that both are busy with their respective careers, for a couple as much in love as Coley are purported to be, it seems strange more effort hasn’t been made in order to spend time together.

  Stay tuned, Mongers, we’ve got a feeling there will be more developments on this story.

  Flop or Fluke?

  From Rocking Racing Rumours

  Flop or fluke? That’s the question everyone’s asking about Supermoto champ and new Ryan Racing signee Cole Matthews. Matthews has been a shadow of the rider he was when he took the title last year, leading many to ask was it a fluke, or can he simply not hack the pace and pressure of the NRS?

  While a solid rider in Supermoto, Matthews never set the series on fire, until last year that is, and has us here at Rocking Racing Rumours wondering if Reed Ryan was a bit premature in expanding the Ryan Racing team with his childhood friend. I’m sure he’s probably wondering the same thing. What first looked like a coup for the powerhouse family is quickly becoming a nightmare, especially given Matthews has blown two engines in two weeks, leaving him to limp home on the two remaining in his quota and seven races left to run. With two DNFs from three starts, we can’t see him being able to salvage much of the season. Perhaps the
Ryans should consider cutting their losses before it gets too much worse.

  Chapter Twenty

  Cole

  The season is in full swing and things are... well, things aren’t going as well as I’d hoped. Last weekend was the second race of the season. I managed to finish sixth, which sucks because I really should’ve been pushing for a podium finish, but my back seized up, making it really fucking uncomfortable to crouch on a bike.

  Today was race three and it was a shitshow, to be perfectly honest. First off, all weekend we struggled to get the set-up right and only managed eleventh in qualifying. Then, out of the blue, after a perfectly fine Friday and Saturday, we wake this morning to rain. Not small droplets either, big fucking monsters. Of course we’re scrambling to get the right set-up during warm-up and the twenty minutes goes by in a flash. But that’s racing, right? Shit happens, we know this. So the race starts and the bike isn’t perfect, but how can it be when we only had twenty minutes to sort everything out? I’m a professional though, so I roll with it. Besides, everyone’s in the same boat, so it should be fine. Things are going okay; I’d gotten up to seventh with the five-way battle for second in my sights, then bam! I hit a patch of standing water wrong and down she goes, white smoke billowing out of my engine once again, meaning I now have two engines to last seven races, which is less than ideal.

  My father was quick to remind me how much of a fuck up I am and how Knley is to blame for my run of bad luck. I’m not sure how he came to that conclusion, but I’m pretty sure he was three or four bourbons in at the time. I’m not worried about the engines though. This is what racing is all about, overcoming the odds. I don’t like it, but after years of racing professionally I’ve come to accept it. One thing I don’t want to accept is not seeing Knley. I haven’t seen her since the first race. I know she’s on tour, but they only do two, sometimes three shows a week. She has time to come see me. There’s two weeks until my next race, so I’m on my way to see her. Places played the Gold Coast last night and are heading south on the last run of their tour.

  On landing at Coolangatta, I’m immediately hit with warm winter air. Twenty-four degrees and sunny. Definitely makes a change from fourteen degrees and rainy.

  I text Quinn to find out where they are. When I get to their hotel, they’re relaxing by the pool just as Quinn said they would be. Knley looks like a dream in a red bikini, the sight enough to push all thoughts of my shitty weekend out of my head.

  “You’re an absolute sight, love,” I say as I approach the lounger she’s on.

  “Cole?” she squeaks as she bolts upright.

  “Hi,” I say as I take a seat. “Quinn.” I nod to the younger Rhodes.

  “Good to see you again, Cole.”

  “You too, I see you’re working hard.”

  “It’s a tough life we lead,” she says as she readjusts her sunnies.

  “What are you doing here?” Knley asks.

  “I have a few days before I’m needed, so I thought, why not spend them at my favourite place?”

  “I didn’t know the coast is one of your favourite places.”

  “It’s not. Wherever you are is,” I say, and lean down to kiss her.

  “So how’d it go this weekend?” she asks when we break apart.

  “You didn’t watch?” I admit I’m disappointed. Her boyfriend is racing in a nationally televised race, at a time when she’s not doing anything—even on show days—and she can’t be bothered to see how I did? Forget disappointed, I’m fucking pissed.

  “I was busy,” she says vaguely, without a hint of remorse.

  “Working on your tan? I can see how that might be more important.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what’s it about?” I snap.

  She looks around. While not packed, there are a few people around. Damn the Gold Coast and it’s not-at-all-like-winter weather. “How about we take this inside?” I gesture for her to lead the way.

  The elevator ride is tense. Finally it reaches her floor, and she swipes her key in front of the scanner to open the door. She swings around to face me once she’s inside, her arms folded against her chest.

  “Want to tell me what that was about downstairs?” she asks.

  “What it was about is I’m killing myself trying to prove myself in a new racing division, a new team, and I need the people I love to support me, but it seems you’re too busy working on your tan to turn on the fucking TV or check your fucking phone. Forget about flying a few hours to actually be with me,” I seethe.

  “I’m on tour!”

  “You have two, sometimes three shows a week. What do you do the rest of the week? My schedule is packed solid. I’ve had back to back to back races, with another just under two weeks from now, and promo commitments coming out of my arse, but I told Bria to shove it so I could come to you, and you can’t even be bothered to watch a forty-minute race?” She shifts uncomfortably. “Do you know what kind of pressure I’m under? The press are starting to talk, saying I’m a has-been, that my win in Supermoto was a fluke, that Reed is a fool for signing me. It’s taking everything Bria’s got and then some to try and contain this, not to mention she’s trying to be a mother to her five-month-old daughter. Oh, and to top things off, I blew another engine yesterday. That’s two in two weeks, if you were keeping track.”

  “I’m so sorry, Cole.”

  “Yeah? For what?”

  “For everything.”

  “Do you really mean that, or are you just saying it because you’re supposed to?” I’m being harsh but I don’t care. I came here to forget about all the shit that’s going on in my life, to be with the one person who makes everything a little less bleak, but it’s like she doesn’t give a shit.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to want us as much as I do.”

  “I do,” she says, pressing herself against me.

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “My mother—” she begins.

  I storm away from her and stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Enough about your mother. You’re twenty-seven years old, Knley. It’s time you took control of your own life.”

  “I’m with you, aren’t I?”

  I shrug. “I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t feel like it.”

  “Screw you, Cole Matthews,” she fumes. “Do you have any idea what it did to me to watch you crash the other day? I was terrified.”

  “I was barely hurt.”

  “This time, but what about next time?”

  “It’s one of the risks of the job.”

  “Yeah well, it fucking sucks.”

  “So does knowing you don’t have the support of your loved ones.” She at least has the decency to hang her head. I go over and grab her shoulders.

  “Look, I love you, but I can’t do this, the constant back and forth. You knew who I was when we got together. I’m sorry that’s too much for you now.” I thought I could be the one to break through her walls, get her to come out into the light and be who she really is, but it’s abundantly clear to me now that it’s not going to happen. Maybe I was stupid in thinking I ever could, that I had the ability to crack open Australia’s bad girl of rock ’n’ roll, but fuck did I want to. I wanted everyone to see what I saw, a beautiful girl trapped by the media and her mother, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe she isn’t trapped, maybe she’s there by choice.

  “What?” she asks, looking up at me, her brown eyes glassy with unshed tears.

  “I’m never going to fit into the McKnley fucking Rhodes mould. I live my life fast, and at that speed there’s no hiding, and that’s what you’re doing, Knley. You’re hiding from me, hiding from your mother, hell, you’re hiding from yourself. I thought maybe I could coax you out, but I was wrong.” I kiss her forehead. “Good luck with everything, McKnley. I hope you find your place in the world.”

  With that I turn and leave. I can already hear my father telling me he told me so.

  Knle
y Back in Place

  Mongers rejoice! It seems our prayers have been answered and Coley is no more. While we hate to revel in anyone’s sadness, we can’t help but make this the exception to the rule. After what can only be described as a tumultuous seven-month relationship, Cole Matthews and McKnley Rhodes are no longer together, despite claims from the rocker’s mother refuting the relationship in the first place.

  Regardless, you can all rest easy knowing McKnley is back in the loving embrace of those who truly care for her.

  We spoke to a very happy Helen Rhodes, who was rejoicing in the fact her middle daughter was back to her old self again.

  “McKnley was going through a phase, as we all do, and realised, as we all do, that they never last. While I tried to give her the space to fully explore this new attitude, it was clear to everyone that she was far from where she belonged, that her new friends were not a good fit, and the ideas they filled her head with were never going to work. No, McKnley’s had her fun, her time away from what she perceived as the ‘shackles’ of everyday life, has realised the error of her ways and the pettiness of her juvenile attempt at rebelling. I knew it was only a matter of time. It was just a case of waiting for it to happen. She’s now back where she should be and is committed to her family and her band.”

  So breathe easy, Mongers! On behalf of everyone at Rocking Rumours, we’d like to express our relief and look forward to her bad girl attitude returning and keeping us entertained with her witty comebacks. Perhaps even some snarky Taylor Swift-esque break-up tunes.