by Erin Noelle
Thankfully, tonight’s shindig is at the hotel we’re staying at, so our trip to the festivities is only an elevator ride away. Gunner and Emmy Sue are already having a drink at the hotel bar—always our designated meeting spot—waiting for me and Dakota so that we can all go in together. I know I’ll most likely be pulled in a hundred different directions the second we’re inside, and I don’t want Dakota left alone. I don’t trust ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the people in this industry.
“Dude, what up? You’re never late.” Gunner glances down at his watch as we saunter up, giving me our typical bro hug before shifting his attention to Dakota. “Oh, Sunshine, don’t you look even more gorgeous than usual.”
Ever since I said something about him not calling her by my nickname, he uses it every opportunity he gets. Like the cocksucker he is. Scooping her up in a hug so big he lifts her off the floor, he purposely glances over at me to see my reaction. Make that a fucking cocksucker.
She squeaks when he sets her down, straightening her shirt and skirt with a laugh. “Thanks, but I think I’m the reason he’s late. This makeup and hair stuff takes forever.”
Emmy Sue, also more fixed up than usual, pushes her husband out of the way and kisses Dakota’s cheek. “You do look amazing, sweets. But, then again, you always do. Now let’s go get our party on. I need food!”
Several of the major sponsors rented out one of the hotel restaurants for the night as a welcome party for all the athletes and their families arriving in town, to celebrate the start of the X-Games tomorrow. I don’t compete until Saturday night, but Gunner has qualifiers tomorrow afternoon, and then semifinals and finals Friday evening. Either way, most everyone is already here, having come into town either yesterday or today.
The inside of the expansive room has been cleared out, for the most part, the open space in the center filled with mingling bodies, while all tables and chairs have been scooted up against the walls. A live band playing popular covers is set up in the corner, and the wall-length bar on one side of the restaurant has no less than twenty people waiting for a drink.
Looks like a typical corporate event, where everyone plasters on a fake smile and behaves themselves. I’m giving it two hours. Tops. Then, I’m taking Dakota upstairs to have my dirty way with her.
“Levi!” A familiar, irritating-as-fuck voice calls out my name from off to the side seconds before I see the just as irritating-as-fuck face of Lance Foss, my number one rival in the sport. He and I have volleyed back and forth between gold and silver in every major competition over the last three years, and my top goal this year is to knock him off the throne of the World Championships, which he stole from me last year.
“Foss.” I tip my chin up at him, not pretending to like him any more than I do.
“So glad to see you made it. It’s not a party until Mr. 501 himself shows up.” Bullshit pours out of his mouth every time he opens it, and right now is no different.
Shifting his beady eyes from me to Dakota—who is standing slightly off to the side and behind me chatting with Emmy Sue—his mouth tilts up in an arrogant grin. “You still got the same little piece with you from New Mexico? Damn, that was what . . . a week ago? She must be a fucking champ in bed to keep the likes of you interested that long. When are you plannin’ on sharing that, bro?”
My entire body constricts, pulled tight like a rubber band cocked to snap, as I get up in his face. “First off, I’m not your fucking bro,” I snarl, piercing him with my menacing stare. “And second, you stay the fuck away from her. If I see you anywhere near her, I will make sure that you physically are unable to get on your bike come Saturday. Do you understand me?”
Fear flashes briefly in his eyes, but like the stubborn prick he is, he doesn’t back down. “I don’t answer to you, fucker, and if you want to keep your pretty pet all to yourself, you better keep her on a leash. I’m not promising anything.”
Gunner steps up at that exact moment, and it’s a damn good thing, because I’m about one more word away from laying this douchebag out . . . fuck the consequences. “Everything good over here, guys?” he asks, his eyes volleying back and forth between the two of us.
“Yeah, I was just welcoming your cousin to the party. He’s got a serious fucking attitude problem.” Foss sneers, pivoting on his heel. “See you pussies later.”
My jaw aches from clenching it, and I wouldn’t be surprised if smoke is actually coming out of my ears. I’ve never liked that dude, but now . . . now, I want to kill him with my bare hands.
“Levi, calm down, man,” Gunner grits through his teeth. “He’s just trying to get under your skin, fuck with your head. It’s his M.O., you know that.”
“He was talking shit about Kota,” I grumble.
Twisting to the side to get her in my sights, my heart stops when I find she’s not standing where she was. I hiss in a deep breath as my eyes begin to dart around the room, searching for the color yellow. “Where the fuck is she?”
“She and Emmy went to the bathroom. Chill the fuck out. Nothing is going to happen to her.” Gunner grabs my arm and yanks me in the direction of the bar. “Come on, let’s get some drinks. You need something to help you relax, and I just saw Rhino’s hair up at the bar.”
I follow his lead, weaving through the mass of bodies, politely smiling, and saying hello to recognizable faces. I don’t remember most of their names, but I know they’re usually at these things. A few minutes later, I’m holding my beer in one hand and a glass of wine for Dakota in the other, waiting for her and Emmy Sue to return, while Rhino hits on some chick and Gunner bullshits with some old dude about the difference in single and double barrel scotches.
“Levi, love, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a raspy, female voice mewls in my ear as her arms slide around my waist from behind.
Startled, and well aware it’s not Dakota touching me, I turn around to come face-to-face with Mercedes Donovan, my agent-slash-manager-slash-regular-hookup. Oh, fuck me.
As always, she’s dressed to kill with her mile-long-legs and sleek, jet-black hair. Working a room like this is what she gets off on, a mixture of hot-blooded talented guys searching for sponsors and loaded corporate executives looking to invest in the next big thing. I can smell the arousal from between her legs.
“Hey, Mercedes.” I toss her my signature flirtatious smile as I lean in to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.”
As shitty as it sounds, I have to play the game with her. She’s the reason I tour in a pimp-ass bus, own an even more pimp-ass house on the lake, and have a garage full of cars, dirt bikes, and other toys most men only dream about. And if I want to continue to live the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to, I have to stay in her good graces. I just wish I would’ve warned Dakota about her beforehand.
“Oh, this old rag,” she jokes, peering down at her red dress that highlights all her assets quite nicely. “I’m sure I could use some help getting out of it later.”
Leaning into me, she clutches onto my arm and giggles then lifts her hungry gaze to my lips, staring at them like she’s going to kiss me right here. I clear my throat and take a small step back, praying to God, Allah, Buddha, and any other higher being I can think of that Dakota doesn’t choose this moment to walk up.
But, like most of my prayers, my silent pleas fall of deaf ears.
Just as I turn to set the glass of wine I’m holding down on the bar, Dakota appears on the opposite side of me from Mercedes, her jawline tight as her eyes narrow in on where the other woman is holding on to me.
“There you are.” She forces a smile up at me. “I was looking for you over by the door where I left you.”
Chuckling nervously, I nod. “Yeah, Gunner and I came over here to find Rhino and grab some drinks.” I extend the glass of wine in her direction, fully expecting it to be thrown back in my face. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted. I hope this is okay.”
She accepts the glass without incident, but the tension continues to mult
iply by the second. I don’t know how the fuck to handle this situation. Either way, it’s not going to end pretty.
“Uh, Dakota,” I begin, feeling like I need to make introductions or say something to fill the awkward silence. “This is Mercedes Donovan with the Donavan Group. She’s my agent and manager.” Swinging my attention over to Mercedes, I repeat the spiel. “Mercedes, this is Dakota Shavell, my massage therapist.”
Fuck!
The moment the words massage therapist tumble from my mouth, I want to catch them and stuff them back inside. That wasn’t the right thing to say. I fucked up.
A stone-cold mask covers Dakota’s face, revealing absolutely no emotion. She’s shut down. In a matter of seconds. Right in front of me. Because of me.
I’m not sure what she says after, but it’s something in the effect of excusing herself, because the next thing I know, I’m watching her walk away. As far away from me as she can get.
Several minutes pass, and neither Mercedes nor I say anything. I’m frozen stupid.
“Well, she was a little strange,” Mercedes murmurs as she scoots closer, rubbing her boobs against my arm.
I can’t even deal with her right now. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll catch up later,” I say as I take off in the direction Dakota went. I’m freaking the fuck out. I just took a step off that edge, and I’m fallin’.
Free fuckin’ fallin’.
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27
I KNEW BETTER. GODDAMN IT, I fucking knew better! Right when I started to think there might be something special about this guy, that maybe he was someone worth bending my rules for, he shows me how wrong I am. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Fleeing the party, I shoulder check a handful of people, but I don’t bother to stop and apologize. Right now, I don’t give a shit about anything except getting the fuck out of this room as quickly as possible, but I was so flustered when I made my getaway from Levi and his rich bitch cling-on I think I may have taken off in the wrong direction. Pride won’t let me turn around now, just in case he’s chasing after me.
Which he probably isn’t . . . fucker.
Finally, I see a glass door along the back wall that appears to lead outside. Thank God. It’s not the way I came in, but all I care about right now is it’s the way I’m getting out. Plus, I could really use some fresh air right now. I’ll figure out my next move once I can stop and weigh my options. First, I need to make my escape.
Thankfully, the door is unlocked, and as I explode into the muggy June night, I exhale a huge sigh of relief, like a kid playing Tag, who just reached base. Stumbling forward to the black iron gate in front of me, I grab hold of the bar to steady myself then perform a quick scan of the immediate area, discovering I’m on a small, dimly lit patio in the back of the hotel property. Either no one else knows about this somewhat hidden place, or no one else dares to brave the oppressive humidity.
“It’s pretty fucking awful in there, isn’t it? A bunch of people seeing who can out-bullshit the other.”
Okay, maybe someone else does know about this place.
Swinging around to the direction of the guy’s voice, I’m greeted with the sight of a somewhat familiar face. Lance Foss, the guy who’s always going up against Levi, emerges from the shadows with an arrogant smirk and an overconfident swagger, retrieving a cigarette and popping it between his lips. I’ve seen him a couple of times at the tracks, first in Albuquerque, and then again in Dallas. He struts around like a cock-a-doodle-doo . . . heavy on the cock. Getting too close to guys like him usually makes my skin itch. I think I’m allergic to that breed of sleaze.
“Want one, beautiful?” He extends the pack in my direction, but I shake him off.
“Nah, thanks. I just needed a breather. It’s getting kinda stuffy in there.”
He leans up against the rail, never taking his tainted gaze off me, and tips his chin up. “Is that code for Levi’s being a dick? What? Did you find him in a dark corner with his hand up Mercedes’ skirt?
I snap my eyes to meet his. “What?!”
“Don’t get all defensive, baby doll.” Ugh, even his words sound greasy. “I was actually surprised to see he brought you here, knowing she’d be here too. I noticed he purposely kept you away from her in Dallas.”
“In Dallas?” I spat, my stomach clenching with dread. “What are you talking about? Who is she?”
Excitement shines bright in his eyes when he realizes I had no idea about who Mercedes was until tonight. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he pushes off the gate and begins to pace the length of the small, concreted area. He’s purposely making me wait for the answer, building my desperation as he establishes his dominance in the situation. Circling me like a predator playing with his wounded prey, he wants me to need him . . . wants me to know I need him.
He has no idea who he’s fucking with, but I’ll play his game until I get what I want.
“Who is she?” I repeat my question, gritting my teeth.
Barking out an evil laugh, he stops pacing and turns to me, cocking his head with a look of pity. “Mercedes Donovan is everything Levi wants her to be. Officially, Jag, her brother and owner of The Donovan Group, is his manager, and she’s supposed to handle his PR, but she’s pretty much taken over all aspects of his life—both on and off the track.”
The blazing inferno his words spark inside me has nothing to do with lust or sexual arousal, but everything to do with desire. Desire to rip James Levi’s dick off his body and stick it in Lance Foss’ asshole. Fuck both of them. Between Levi telling me he’s not involved with anyone and Foss insinuating they’re practically engaged, the truth is somewhere in the middle, but they’re both fucking liars.
Before either of us says another word, the door flies open and Levi storms the patio, his fierce, penetrating stare landing on Lance first. “Get the fuck out of here, Foss,” he grumbles.
“Fuck off, Levi.” Lance scowls, flicking his cigarette out in the grass. “I already told you once tonight that I answer to no one, asshole. Especially not you. It’s not my fault you didn’t tell your pretty little pet about Mercedes. You should’ve known how that was going to play out.” With a smug grin, he steps over to me and slides his arm around my hips, giving me a squeeze. “But don’t you worry about Goldilocks here. I’ll make sure she isn’t heartbroken for long.”
Levi’s eyes nearly bulge straight out of his head when Lance touches me. Clenching his hands into tight fists, his enraged stare cuts over to me. Get the fuck away from him.
Fuck you, Hulk.
Dakota, don’t fucking test me.
Realizing that no one is saying anything out loud as Lance watches Levi and me throw daggers back and forth, I break the silence. “Yeah, I’m totally okay out here. I was just telling Foss about the services I offer.” Reaching over to cup Lance’s dick outside his pants, I paint on a demure smile and wink at Levi. “He’s interested in the special I’ve got going on dick massages.”
A loud noise erupts from Levi’s chest that sounds something like a mix of a bear growl and the wailing of a wolf. Holy fucking shit! With superhero speed and strength, he charges us and picks Lance up off the ground by the neck, holding him backward hanging over the pointy fence.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from her! I fucking warned you what would happen if you got near her! Did you think I was lying, you stupid fucking prick?” Levi is close to foaming at the mouth as he screams in Lance’s beet-red face.
“That’s enough, Levi. Let him go.” I tug on his arm, urging him to stop. It’s time I just pack my bags and go home. There’s no need for any of this ridiculousness.
He tightens his grip, eliciting a squawk of pain from Lance. “No! He fucking knew what would happen if he got near you, and he did it anyway. Fucker needs to be taught a lesson.”
“It doesn’t matter! Just stop! Let him go!” Curling my fingers into his biceps, I dig my nails into the smooth flesh and yank harder. “Think about everything you’ll lose if you seriously hurt him. You’ll be
suspended or kicked off the tour at least; not to mention, he can press charges. This is stupid. You’re fighting over me—someone you won’t give a second thought to next week! It’s not worth it! I’m not worth it!”
Abruptly pulling Lance back over into the enclosed area, he slings him toward the door, finally releasing the death grip on his throat. “Get the fuck out of here. You tell no one about what happened out here, or I’ll make sure your sweet fiancée back home learns all about Stacy and her little situation,” he threatens.
Lance gets to his feet, brushing himself off and straightening his clothes, the deep scowl never leaving his face. “You’re a fucking cocksucker, Levi. I’ll be cheering the day you break your neck on the track.” His eyes flit over to me. “Don’t believe a word he says, baby doll. You can come find me about that dick massage later.”
He disappears back inside without another word, leaving only the two of us on the patio. I can’t decide if I want to beat the shit out of him or take off running to cry as I pack. Or maybe I should beat the shit out of him and then take off running.
“Sunshine,” he rasps, striding toward me.
My arms jut straight out from my sides to stop him. I don’t want him anywhere near me. “No!” I roar. “And my fucking name is Dakota!”
“Dakota, please.” His voice softens substantially as he stops short and holds his hands up in surrender, not wanting to push me. “Please listen to me. Give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain?! Explain what? That you have a girlfriend you failed to tell me about before asking me to live with you for two weeks? The only explanation for that is that you’re a fucking piece of shit. So, there. I did it for you. Now we can go our separate ways.”
Shuffling to the side, I make a move to pass him, but he reacts too quickly and cuts me off. “Dakota, stop. Mercedes is not my girlfriend. She’s my—”