by Jayne Rylon
Holden crawled to her. He paused to kiss her sloppy mound, then the tip of one breast and finally her lips. He didn’t shy away from the proof of any of the men who had possessed her. In fact, he seemed reverent. More so with each contact.
“I love you too, Holden.” She nuzzled into his embrace when he settled beside her and knew there was no other place in the world she should be right then.
“To our newest Hot Rod,” Eli proclaimed.
Everyone cheered.
Sabra had nearly dozed off in Holden’s arms when an enormous crash shook the foundation of the Hot Rods garage. “What was—?”
She hadn’t even finished her sleepy question when Meep flew over her. The fastest Hot Rod didn’t hesitate long enough to get dressed. He fled the room, shouting, “Roman!”
Shit, Barracuda was down there alone.
“You don’t think he would have tried to hoist that engine by himself, do you?” Bryce wondered. People rummaged for their clothes on the floor. Within seconds, the guys followed Carver to the garage.
“Sabster, you’d better go get Tom.” Alanso tagged her as he bolted past.
Holden kissed her forehead, then joined the rest of the gang, rushing to help Roman. The women took a few moments longer, needing to uncover bras and shirts instead of a simple pair of shorts or sweats in the commotion.
Sabra knew it was bad when a primal roar reached her ears. She hadn’t gotten halfway down the stairs when screams and cursing echoed off the building. Turns out, she didn’t need to get Tom. He raced across the lawn before she made it halfway there.
Surprisingly, Ms. Brown trailed after him.
Afraid of what she would find, Sabra ducked into the garage. The guys huddled around Roman, who writhed on the floor. Blood had soaked half of his T-shirt. It took her a second to realize that the white poking through the mess was actually the tip of his humerus.
Oh God.
She put out a hand to steady herself and found Sally doing the same. They hugged each other as the guys stabilized Roman. Carver was already on the phone calling 9-1-1. They needed an ambulance, quickly.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Barracuda snarled and cursed. “No. Not going to the hospital.”
“Sure, dude,” Nova yelled right back. “We’ll just let you walk around here like some jacked-up scarecrow until you bleed to death.”
Speaking of, Nola had approached with a section of rubber tubing. She wrapped it around Roman’s upper arm and handed the ends to the guys to tie off. They applied pressure, keeping Barracuda as still as possible.
He railed against them. His gaze latched onto Carver. “Don’t let them take me. Don’t let them—”
Struggling against the guys, he accidentally knocked Kaelyn in the face with his elbow. She plopped backward onto her ass, grabbing her cheekbone.
Horrified, Roman froze.
“It was an accident.” Carver instantly slid by his side. “She’s fine.”
Barracuda’s face was so pale it seemed gray.
Using his reluctance to hurt a woman, Sabra, Nola and Sally entered the fray. Roman calmed instantly to avoid flailing into them. Carver sat behind him and propped up his torso to keep the injury as far above his heart as possible.
They were effective, but when Ms. Brown joined the women, petting Roman’s hair and murmuring in his ear, he seemed transformed. His anger seeped out of him as surely as his blood. Almost worse, pain took its place.
He howled.
Tom took the hand of his uninjured arm and held tight. “I won’t let them run tests on you other than your arm. I promise, Roman. They’re not going to see. There won’t be endless questions. You’re an adult, not a child. We’ll get you back to work in no time. Nothing else.”
“That’s right,” Ms. Brown crooned. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. So will Carver. You’re not alone. No one here did this to you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Sabra raised her brows and looked to Holden.
Outside, he mouthed.
The rest of the gang had Roman under control. They went into the fresh air, free of the iron tang of the garage, to wait for the paramedics. Sirens rang faintly in the crisp night air.
“If they x-ray him, they’ll see how many times his bones have been broken.” Holden scrubbed his hands over his face.
Sabra enfolded him in a hug and refused to let go. He trembled in her hold.
“He was abused,” she stated.
Her boyfriend nodded, and the rapid bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed stabbed her in the heart. “So bad. Horrible things. No kid should ever have to go through that. He hates hospitals. Hates doctors. His mom never even went with him. She left him out front so she wouldn’t get in trouble, then took off for the next place. He kept finding her for a while. Trying to save her. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t have tried. All it got him was more trips to the hospital for his trouble.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Sabra went to her tiptoes to kiss Holden. He seemed to sink into her offering. “He survived before and he will again. He’s a tough son of a bitch. Ms. Brown is going to go with him. She won’t leave him for a second. Carver either. Us too. Let me drive, though.”
“Okay.” He leaned on her this time. It surprised her that he agreed. And filled her with joy. They could be there for each other. Would be. He trusted her, no matter what damage his mother had done.
If he could overcome his history. So could Roman.
“I love you, Holden,” she reminded him. “We’re going to get through this together.”
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later, the pilot aired on national television. By the first commercial break, Sabra had three offers she didn’t plan to take, the foundation had been flooded with donations and volunteers and the Hot Rods voicemail box had been blown to smithereens. If this kept up they’d have to think about opening that second location they’d discussed for the far, far future.
Maybe a separate motorcycle shop too.
Carver couldn’t help but smile when he got sight of the Sabster practically skipping toward the garage after she exited her vehicle. A hell of a lot different than her approach after the pitch session with her old station. He might have been jealous of Holden if Swinger hadn’t so graciously included the guys in their relationship. Hell, he hadn’t seen his friend so blissed before—genuinely happy instead of merely encouraging everyone else to forget their troubles through an endless series of pranks. Finally.
“Yo, Swinger. Your girl is home.” He gave his friend time to untangle himself from the red leather he installed in their latest project.
Good thing too, because when she approached she picked up steam until she threw herself into his arms and wrapped her impressively limber legs around his waist.
Carver grinned as he watched them suck face.
“I take it that went well?” Holden rubbed their noses together as he absorbed the positive energy practically radiating from the Sabster.
“Yup.” She giggled, causing Swinger to groan. The guy had a serious thing for her laughter.
“Hey, everybody, come here!” Carver rounded up the gang.
They huddled around the pair, who refused to separate long enough to share the news in any dignified fashion. He liked this team meeting better than the one he couldn’t shake from his nightmares, where Roman had sat in a pool of his own blood, not far away. Thankfully, a minor surgery later, a couple pins and a cast for a long fucking time, and the guy would heal. After all, he had a lot of experience in mending broken bones.
Carver shook his head to clear the troubling thoughts.
“We’re the next big thing, right?” Kaige joked.
Except it seemed like it was true.
“Hell yes,” Sabra confirmed. “Not only did the initial ratings set records nationwide, but it set
off a major network bidding war. My old station canned Grills for letting the program slip through his fingers. He’s under investigation for a slew of sexual harassment charges. They offered me a ridiculous deal to come back there, but no way. I can stick it to those bastards by going with someone else. Someone bigger. Fuck them and all the shit they put me through. Denver and his station took a chance on me that night and I’m staying with him.”
Eli and Alanso high-fived as if her victory were their own. Because good shit for a Hot Rod was bonus for them all. There was no denying Sabra had become one of them in her own right and twice as much because of her relationship with Swinger.
They may not have formalized things yet, but they all knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
Hot Rods were loyal for life.
Sabra squirmed until Holden let her down slowly, as if considering celebrating right there on the brand-new backseat he’d finished upholstering an hour ago. When she peered around at them, they each granted her support through their nods, smiles and congratulations.
“I guess it’s up to you guys, though. If you’ll let me stay. Let me film the show. You know…for the next two years that they offered to contract.” She nibbled her lip as if any of them could deny her. Or wanted to.
“Two seasons? Seriously?” Holden grabbed her again and twirled her around. “You’re amazing.”
“Actually, more like three seasons. Seventy-five episodes. They’re going to run new content more than a single time a year. It’s a record offer for a new show, with options for add-on seasons.” She sniffled a little, threatening to throw the shop into chaos with feminine tears. None of them were immune to that.
“Holy shit, girl. Way to go.” Mustang Sally cheered from her place between Eli and Alanso.
Nola looked like she might pass out from excitement. “Do you know what this will do for the shop? Damn, Sabster!”
They all laughed when Nola took up Sabra’s unofficial-official nickname while rubbing her own belly. Carver thought of their bright future and how their family had grown. He couldn’t wait to be part of that. With Roman.
Where was the guy, anyway?
Meep looked around, sudden dread eating through the rapture that had suffused him moments ago. Last time he’d gone missing hadn’t ended so well.
In the distance he heard the rest of the Hot Rods negotiating to keep Sabra in the garage. Convincing her to let her lease expire when it came up for renewal the next month. A big step, though one they were ready for.
“It means you won’t be able to get rid of me anytime soon,” she tentatively offered with a rare hesitation in her voice.
“Exactly,” Holden reassured her. “Where do I sign?”
He whipped a pen from the pocket of his coveralls and snatched her briefcase up, rummaging for the papers, making Sabra laugh.
“Wait. One more thing.” She stayed him with a soft hand on his wrist. “There’s a lot of money involved in this deal. What do you think about paying me a fair salary, then splitting the rest between the garage and the shelter? I’d like to fund as many adoption grants as possible with the proceeds.”
Kaelyn cut in this time. As the office manager, she had their finances in better order than ever before. “The advertising is enough to support the shop. Put all the extra toward helping the kids.”
She looked around, silently asking for everyone’s agreement. With a nod, Carver gave his, edging from worry toward pissed that Barracuda was missing such a pivotal moment in their history.
Ms. Brown and Tom strolled in about that time. They seemed on better terms this past week, though the hints of their fledgling romance had all but disappeared. Carver planned to ask his dad what was up with that. Soon. As soon as he kicked Roman’s ass for whatever trouble he was getting himself into instead of being in the garage. Despite his broken arm, there were things he could do to help. Or keep Meep company.
“Do you hear that, Tom?” Bryce shouted to the guy. “Sabster scored big time. Three seasons of Hot Rods are coming to a TV near you.”
“You’re going to be a star, Mom,” Nola added.
As if whatever had happened between them disappeared for a moment, Tom and Ms. Brown turned to each other and shared a warm embrace. He whispered something in her ear and kissed her cheek, which led to catcalls, whoops and shouts of encouragement from the gang.
Blushing, Ms. Brown broke away.
“Better yet,” Kaige added, “we’re going to make a lot of people happy. Sabra is setting up adoption grants. The program should be named after her, don’t you think?”
“Would you mind if we named it after my parents instead?” she asked.
Tom jogged across the concrete floor and stole Sabra from Holden for just a moment. He practically crushed her in a bear hug at the news. “That’s perfect. You’re a special kid, Sabster.”
“Not you too,” she laughed as she dropped her forehead on Tom’s chest.
He ruffled her hair, then held her out to Holden, who reclaimed her as if he might wither if he didn’t touch her again. Constantly.
Carver knew that craving. He had it himself.
Except the guy he’d like to think of as his lifeline had apparently vanished.
While the rest of the gang celebrated, Meep went on a search-and-rescue mission. What he found wouldn’t be pretty. He braced himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen Barracuda wrecked. But he’d thought him long past those days.
Why now?
What was bugging him? It had to be more than a broken bone—or even some quality time in the hospital complete with flashbacks to a childhood of abuse—hurting the man to regress him to these bad habits. Carver tried to understand, but it was tough.
It hurt to think that his love for Roman wasn’t enough to heal the man.
Once he turned the corner out of the garage, he jogged up the stairs to their apartment. After checking their room and the main living areas, he gave up and scouted the roof deck. No luck there either. His car had been in the lot, so he couldn’t have gone far.
Carver stomped down the stairs, heading for the only other likely place.
Sure enough, when he burst into the gardens behind Tom’s house, Barracuda perched on a stone bench, listing to one side. His arm must have been killing him to affect him so much.
As relieved as Meep was, annoyance flashed out in its place.
“What are you doing out here? Couldn’t you hear the shouting? Sabra’s back. They offered her a three-season deal.” Carver talked as quickly as he was known for running in an attempt to pretend shit wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
“So go celebrate with them. You know Swinger will want you to nail her while he watches.” Roman shrugged, the black cast on his arm barely moving as he nursed the injury.
“Since when is that a problem?” There were so many things going haywire, Carver didn’t know where to start.
“Since never. It’s fine. Not a peep outta me ’bout it.” The other guy refused to meet his stare. What was this? Jealousy? “Go fuck ’er. Have fun. Not like you need me anyway. Someone else would be glad to pound your ass, I’m sure.”
Carver might have thrown a punch then, if he hadn’t realized how much Roman slurred his words. Not out of anger, but something…chemical. He peered at Barracuda and noticed a cloudiness to his dilated eyes.
When Holden spotted an empty, broken bottle in the weeds a few feet away, he charged for the largest shard of it.
“What the fuck is this?” He held up the demolished absinthe. No doubt Roman had polished off the liquor before smashing the container. “You’re drinking and taking pain medicine? Barracuda, that shit is strong. Both of them. Are you stupid?”
The thought of what might have happened, with Roman out here alone—trashed—made his heart race.
Barracuda didn’t bother to respond. Hell, he might not have heard
Carver’s tirade. He zoned out, his gaze unfocused in the direction of the koi pond and the mesmerizing flashes of orange that zipped by from time to time.
An easy target in his altered state, Roman didn’t know what was coming until it was too late. Carver lunged for the bench and forced his hand in Barracuda’s pocket. The guy grunted, probably hoping for a better sort of screwing than he was about to receive.
Meep wrested the bottle, which had caused the bulge he’d noticed, from Roman’s pants. Not hard considering the loopy stare the other guy sported. He zipped away when Barracuda tried to grab him. Both of them knew he could outrun his roommate even when he was sober, so neither of them continued with pointless efforts.
Roman groaned and put his face in his good hand.
Carver shook the amber bottle. He could tell it wasn’t as full as it should be. Still, he peeked inside and did a quick count. “Jesus, Roman. I just filled this prescription for you yesterday. How can you only have eight pills left?”
“Would you believe they fell down the drain?” His monotone didn’t lend the lie much oomph.
“Fuck no.” He plopped onto the bench, terrified when Roman seemed like he might fall off the other side. His arm snuck around his roommate’s waist instinctively. “This is bullshit, Barracuda. Whatever’s going on, this isn’t how to solve your problems.”
“I thought I could count on you to be with me instead of against me, Meep.” Roman didn’t beg for anything. That was about as close as he’d ever gotten.
“I’ve always got your back. And that’s why I won’t stand by while you do this to yourself.” Carver squashed the urge to wrap his arms fully around Roman and take the easy way out, offering him physical comfort against emotional pain.
Meep loosely held his roommate, the man he loved more than anyone else on Earth. He wondered where he would find the strength to see them through this. Again. And what about next time?
Could he keep picking Roman up when he crashed?
What about the cost to himself? He didn’t know if he was strong enough to bear the disappointment each time Barracuda stumbled into this dark abyss. Some days it felt like the blackness sucked the life out of him too, though he tried to be the light for his friend—and lover—to follow home.