Furious Rush

by S. C. Stephens

  What? No! The last thing I wanted to do was have another sick, twisted, erotic daydream about Hayden. I forced my eyes open, and did a double take when I saw the actual Hayden standing right there, staring at me. I was still sort of worked up, and had to take a deep, calming breath before I could speak to him. Even then, my voice came out strained. “What are you doing here, and why are you staring at me like that?”

  He glanced over his shoulder to where the reporters were catching up with other racers before returning his eyes to me. “Meditating?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Something like that.” My vision of kissing him had rekindled the memory of that heated moment between us outside the bar, when I’d been mentally begging him to put his lips on mine. Now all I could think about was his mouth. I needed out of here before I did something I regretted, like make that fantasy a reality.

  “Well, don’t psych yourself out about tomorrow,” he smoothly responded. “You’ll do fine.”

  His insight into the dark, doubt-filled part of me I hid from everyone was infuriating, but oddly, it only made me even more attracted to him. He gets me. “We can’t be seen together like this,” I said, walking away from him as quickly as I could. I wasn’t even sure where I was going, but I knew now was not a good time to be alone with him. Especially with all the potential witnesses around us. I needed to keep walking until the thought of his tongue brushing against mine completely left me. Bikes. I needed to think about bikes. Or the race. Or my father. Anything but Hayden. He has a girlfriend, he has a kid. Stop fantasizing about him.

  “Kenzie, wait.” Hayden jogged until he caught up with me, which only made me want to run. I didn’t, though. There was no point. History told me he would just follow until he’d said his piece. When we were more or less alone, he glanced around and said, “How’d you do with the reporters? Kill it, or get killed?”

  Why the hell did he care? “I don’t want to talk about it.” Darting into a break between two garage bays, I looked around for a food vendor. I needed water. And maybe a cold shower.

  Hayden, as always, didn’t listen to what I was saying. “Got killed, huh? Did you stick to team statements? That’s what you should do next time. The media loves crap like that. When a camera is on, just say stuff like, ‘I owe it all to my crew, I’d be nothing without their support, I couldn’t do what I do without the people behind me…’ Do it next time, you’ll see what I mean.”

  I had to wonder when he had become such an expert on all this. His one race in Daytona? Seriously, he was a freakin’ street racer who had walked into this world from nowhere while I'd been immersed in it my entire life. Stopping beside a camper, I dug my nails into my palms. “I didn’t ask for your advice. Go. Away.”

  He stared me down for a solid ten seconds before he said anything, and I swear, the air between us started smoking in the silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was that sensuous low tone that went straight to my libido. “When you get all fiery and defiant like that, it just makes me want to pinch you again.”

  My mind screamed at me to back up a step—this was quickly going somewhere I couldn’t let it go—but my body refused to listen. “You wouldn’t dare,” I seethed, inadvertently leaning forward.

  A small smile twitched his lips. “I love a good dare.”

  My breath picked up as we stared at each other, and I was rigid with tension, waiting for him to do…something. I wasn’t sure what I would do when he finally did. I also wasn’t sure what I would do if he didn’t. Good or bad, right or wrong, I needed something to happen. The waiting was going to make me implode.

  Hayden’s breath had quickened as well, and his hands twitched, like he was restraining himself from grabbing me and dragging me into the camper beside us. Some perverse part of me wanted him to cave into temptation and do it. Yes, take me in there, throw me down, and show me how well you handle a different set of curves.

  The back of his hand brushed my thigh, and I tensed. Was he actually going to do it? A gasp escaped me and his bedroom eyes grew even steamier. He wanted to do a lot more than pinch me, and I wanted to let him do it…and I felt horrible for feeling that way. He has a family.

  “Say it,” he murmured as his knuckle swept back and forth across my jeans. Every pass made me want him all the more.

  Like we were mentally connected, I knew exactly what he wanted me to say. I leaned forward until our chests were completely touching. “I dare you.” I elongated the words, made them low and sexy. My heart was pounding. What am I doing?

  Hayden’s eyes widened at the challenge. Desire clouded his features as he grabbed my ass and pulled me into his hips. A soft groan escaped me when I felt just how badly he wanted me. Screw the pinch, just take me.

  “Oh, Kenzie, good, there you are. Your father is looking for you.”

  At hearing Nikki’s voice, I shoved Hayden’s hand away from my backside and spun around to face my friend. Shit. Had she seen Hayden copping a feel? How could I possibly explain that? How could I explain being in this random, out-of-the-way place with him? We shouldn’t be together like this. We shouldn’t be together at all!

  Nikki was looking between Hayden and me with a baffled expression, like she was witnessing an impossibility that went against every law of nature. And it did. Bennetis and Coxes didn’t hang out by strange campers together. Not if they wanted to keep their jobs. Calm down, Kenzie. Act natural.

  Apparently, I didn’t seem natural enough, and Nikki rapidly came to the conclusion that Hayden’s attentions were unwanted. She wasn’t too far off the mark. “What the hell are you doing with my girl, Benneti? You better step off before I call an official down here and have you arrested for badgering a witness! Er, I mean rider.”

  Cringing, I shot Nikki a look. She watched way too many lawyer dramas. Hayden smirked at her as he casually ran a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure they won’t arrest me for talking…but I was just leaving anyway.”

  “Good,” Nikki said. Then she stepped between the two of us like she was my bodyguard. Hayden shook his head as he walked by; Nikki glared at him the entire time. Once he was gone, she turned to face me, and her expression was a picture of concern. “You okay? What did he do? What did he say? Did he give you anything? Something to eat, something to drink? Did he touch you? Any skin-to-skin contact?”

  Just thinking about the skin-to-skin contact I’d been hoping for had my cheeks hot. God, if she only knew, she’d flay me alive. “It was fine, Nikki. He was just giving me interview tips.”

  Nikki gave me an odd look and I instantly realized my mistake. I shouldn’t have defended him. “Tips? Any tip from that guy is probably the exact opposite of what you should be doing. And have you heard his interviews? No real competition for me out there, the only one I’m racing against is myself. Conceited jerk.”

  My eyes widened at hearing that. No real competition? Oh, we’ll see about that. Nikki nodded when she saw the heat flare in my eyes. “Yeah, and you know why he thinks that.”

  No, I wasn’t sure that I did. “No…why?”

  Nikki rolled her eyes at me. “Remember what Eli was talking about at the bull riding bar? The rumor floating around about Hayden? Well, what if it’s not just a rumor?”

  That night, it had seemed like Nikki hadn’t been entirely sold on Eli’s conspiracy theory. “I thought you didn’t buy into that.”

  “Well, I might have played it down.” She cringed. “I didn’t want the guys to know about the street racing stuff—which I’ve stopped doing, just like you asked, so you can quit giving me the stink eye. But I don’t know, Kenzie…there were some questionable crashes, some really odd malfunctions, and he was undefeated for a really long time. I just…I don’t know. All I do know is that he’s bad news. Be careful out there, okay?”

  I gave her a stiff nod in response. It was all I could do.

  Chapter 8

  It was a beautiful day in Wisconsin, perfect for racing. Road America, the historic track at Elkhart, was the longest o
ne in the series, with each lap coming in at just over four miles, but that meant we only had to do twelve laps to complete the almost fifty-mile sprint. It made the race feel even faster than it was.

  I was itching to go by the time the race was due to start. My father gave me his ever-practical words of wisdom about control, then said, “You’re building steam, but you need to maintain it to make it all the way up the mountain.” Basically, what he meant was Don’t fuck up today, okay?

  I nodded at him, then shoved my helmet down over my head. His words made a heavy weight settle in my stomach. I didn’t plan on fucking up, but things that were beyond my control happened in races…what if I didn’t handle them properly? Inhaling a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on one idea that was much more satisfying—kicking Hayden’s ass so hard he’d beg me for mercy.

  When we were all positioned in our grids, waiting for the light to change, my grin grew so large, I thought my cheeks might split open. I had qualified to start in the top ten—a fact that thrilled me—but I was still a few spots below Hayden. That didn’t please me so much. Even still, I had never been quite so pumped for a race before; the rush of being seconds away from racing Hayden again was rampaging through my veins like thousands of tiny charging bulls. I almost jumped the gun, I was so eager to start, but the light happened to turn at just the right instant, and I was free to be released. Hayden wasn’t taking away a second of my time this race.

  Excitement and energy ripped through me when I surged forward, and as I relaxed into my riding, only one thought pounded through my brain: Catch Hayden. The crowds in the stands morphed into an incoherent blur in my peripheral vision, and the other riders on the track became nothing more than numbered obstacles blocking my path to him. Where was he?

  When I spotted him a few places in front of me, I pushed my bike to its limits. Passing him was my only concern. The road seemed to rise up to meet me on the corners, giving me the illusion that I was standing still and the course was moving. The rhythm of my bike’s hum was perfect, my positioning as I hung low off the inside of the bike was flawless, and I was soaring with hope. As I shot past other riders like they were stationary, a tiny thought exploded to life. There’s no reason why I can’t win this.

  It wasn’t long until I was right on Hayden’s tail. As if he could feel me behind him, he miraculously found more speed. But lap by lap, I gained on him. And once I got past him, everything else would fall into place. This race was mine.

  As if the universe heard me, well over halfway through the race, one of the bikes in front of Hayden and me started spewing toxic black smoke. I looked over just in time to see the motorcycle shimmy and wobble, then the rider lost control; at the speed he was going, there was no way to get it back. The bike tumbled and flipped over and over down the center of the track, throwing the rider onto the concrete.

  A warning flag immediately popped up, but it was too late for those of us following just a few seconds behind him. I dodged debris the best I could and tried not to look at the carnage. I wasn’t sure which racer had fallen, but I hoped he was okay.

  The red flag went up next, and it was quickly changed to a checkered flag. They were calling the race. My jaw dropped as I slowed my bike. No! I was so close to taking Hayden, so close to beating him. As worried as I was about the rider who’d crashed, I couldn’t believe this was how today was going to end.

  By the time we were all ushered into pit lane, I was steaming. I wanted the officials to help the rider, then clean up the track and let us go again. The race was unfinished, and I felt unsettled. But I knew they wouldn’t let us compete any more today. The race had been past the magic 80 percent mark—too close to the end to restart.

  After hopping off my bike, I stormed into the cold pits. “I almost had him! A lap and a half! That was all I needed!” I violently chucked my helmet across the room. Thankfully, one of the nimbler crew members caught it; my dad hated it when equipment was damaged due to temper tantrums. Actually, he wasn’t a big fan of temper tantrums altogether. Keep it together, Kenzie.

  I was about to apologize for chucking my stuff when I noticed the tension in the air…and I didn’t think it was because of my outburst. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up, made my gut feel like I’d swallowed a handful of marbles. The fallen rider. He must be hurt pretty bad for everyone to be on pins and needles.

  Everyone was focused on the TVs that showed various areas of the track, so I turned to look at them as well. An emergency vehicle was on the field, and three or four medics were surrounding a body lying on the ground. I couldn’t tell who it was.

  Over my shoulder, I spotted Nikki gnawing on her knuckle. Working my way back to her, I asked, “Who was it? Who crashed?” I’d been so focused on Hayden during the race, I had no clue who had gone down.

  When Nikki turned her head my way, I saw that her eyes were watery. She looked on the verge of a complete meltdown. The discomfort in my stomach instantly shifted into sharp spears of pain. Don’t say it.

  Nikki swallowed before she spoke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “Myles,” she whispered.

  No. It couldn’t have been Myles who wrecked—he never wrecked. Not like that. But now that I was revisiting the moment without Hayden foremost in my mind, I could see the blue-and-white jersey, see the number 12 on his bike as it toppled out of control. Shit…it had been Myles, and I hadn’t even noticed. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Panic and fear tightened my chest. “Is he…okay? What’s going on?”

  Nikki shook her head. “Don’t know. Your dad is heading over there now. John is on the headset, listening for news…We just don’t know anything yet, though. But…congratulations on your finish, Kenzie,” she said, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Eighth place is amazing. And you tied the record for a female finish on this track.”

  I’d been so preoccupied with the race being called that I hadn’t checked my placement. I felt a little light-headed, like I should lie down. “Eighth? Tied the…” I was sure there was some coherent sentence I should be forming, I just couldn’t get the words out.

  Nikki let out a soft chuckle, then gave me a hug. When her arms wrapped around me, she started sobbing, and I instantly remembered how I’d ended up eighth. Myles. Please let him be okay.

  Unable to just sit around and wait for news anymore, Nikki and I decided to go to the first aid station, where the ARRC kept a couple of doctors on staff. If they were going to take Myles anywhere once he left the track, it would be there. Unless it was his back or his neck—then an ambulance would take him straight to the hospital. I fervently hoped he came here first. Please don't let it be serious.

  The garage bay being used as a makeshift doctor’s office was pretty busy when we got there. Staff were treating dehydration, a nasty road rash, and even a gushing gash that was definitely going to need stitches. Every single one of the riders being cared for looked annoyed to be there. Riders preferred the walk-it-off treatment, but crew chiefs tended to disagree.

  We heard Myles’s name being spoken by a guy on a cell phone and we followed him to the corner of the room, where an exam table was being prepared. When Myles arrived on a stretcher, I breathed a sigh of relief—Thank God, not a spinal injury. There was a flurry of activity as he was brought into the garage, and my chest constricted at seeing my friend in pain. His neck might not be broken, but something was definitely wrong.

  “Myles! Are you okay?” I surged forward to help, but staff members held me back.

  A woman in a pristine white jacket folded her arms over her chest as she blocked our path. “I’m sorry, but unless you need treatment for something, you’ll have to wait outside.”

  For a moment, I considered pretending that I’d reinjured my ankle, but then I thought better of it. Dad might actually believe me and make me stay off it for the next few days. “I just want to know what’s happening with Myles Kelley, the Cox
Racing rider who went down at the track. Can you tell me what you know?” I could hear Myles grunting and groaning in pain as he was moved to the exam table. The sound tore my heart, and it killed me that I couldn’t do anything to help him.

  The lady looked over her shoulder, where Myles was being helped out of his racing leathers. Turning back to us, she said, “When we know something, you’ll know something. Until then, please wait outside.”

  I was about to argue when I happened to spot Dad. He was one of the people helping Myles undress. Stern-faced, he indicated with a jerk of his head that Nikki and I should leave, then he pulled a curtain around Myles’s bed, shrouding them in privacy.

  With a sigh, I started pulling Nikki out the garage door. If the nurse wouldn’t tell us anything now, Dad certainly would later, and being in the way wouldn’t really help anybody. Nikki was frazzled when we got outside, though, restless. Her manic energy was starting to infect me too. Watching her pace made me feel like a legion of ants were scurrying under my skin. “Hey, if you want to go work off some steam, I’ll text you info as soon as I get it.”

  Nikki paused in her pacing to look at me. “Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go back to the garage…see if Kevin has heard anything about Myles’s bike.” We both knew the officials would be examining the bike first—for hours, probably—but Nikki needed something to do, so I gave her a hug, then let her go on her way.